DISCLAIMER: This book is fiction. Every name, place, character, and event are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is pure coincidence. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

* * *

At 0500 hours, Melissa Sanderson, 45, went to the private ladies’ room in the Sanderson home along with her daughters Maria, 23, and Bella, 21. They began each morning by kneeling and reading a portion of the District Nine rules for feminine behavior out loud. This morning, it was Maria, red-haired, chubby, and curvy, who read from what the women of District Nine, in a world that had lost a lot of its religion, considered to be almost a holy book, smiling at a part she knew her mother had helped write. This was an important week in the Sanderson home, and both daughters lamented that they could not join their mother on the trip she would be taking to another district.

After this reading, which took about 20 minutes, each woman remaining kneeling in their own quiet prayer. Melissa was grateful for her wonderful husband Brett, 46, and the beautiful, dutiful, daughters born very early in their marriage. As the Sandersons pushed towards their 23rd anniversary, the blonde, a genetically engineered near white, woman, as chubby and curvy as her daughters, wife, mother, and slave could not have felt any more content with her life and the choices she had made.

Their district, ninth of nine, had risen as their country broke up. Various districts across the country had broken society into various philosophical worlds. As people flocked to their own sorts, morals also changed. Sexuality became more open and people brought their values to the surface. Advances in technology had cured disease, ended war, and, most importantly to the Sandersons, changed the roles of men and women.

Both had considered themselves pretty progressive people. They believed in a certain hierarchy of dominance and submission. A few election cycles before the war, the progressive candidate had defeated a fundamentalist candidate. Celebrations were short-lived because the government that formed had been split almost 50/50, which meant a lot of negotiating and red tape would be involved.

The brave, grand orator, who had been elected, began to cave to his opponents and financial backers almost immediately. Despite the country having just gotten out of a war, he began another war based on pretty shoddy evidence of aggression. As a “compromise” with fundamentalists in the government, various rights for women to privacy and eventually speech were eroded. The final straw had been the murder of a woman who interrupted a speech during the reelection debate campaign.

After the numerous protests of this grievous action, the government came down hard on dissension. The already tense situation was shattered further by a whistleblower, who proved the evidence for war had been doctored. In the unrest that followed, the formerly supposedly united country splintered into various districts across the land, each with a different set of values.

Brett and Melissa had been together for a few years when this happened. Early in their relationship, he had begun to dominate her and announced that she would be staying the weekend to begin being trained. The busty, then raven haired, submissive acquiesced without a hint of resistance and, in fact, encouraged him to not comprise or relent with her even in those early hours and days.

The first weekend, he began to lay down some ground rules, which Melissa cheerfully and passively accepted. Both of them realized as they lay in bed the first night that they had found their perfect mate. Brett wanted a real-time relationship that existed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, not just in the bedroom or for some mundane kink or game. He was strict and handed out cruel punishment for disobedience. He was also gentle, encouraging, and very caring to his property.

Brett had also begun to modify her appearance to his liking. His slave got her nails done each week and adhered to a strict dress and behavior code. With his permission, she cut her work week by one day so she could be home more. Melissa was a feminist, a pretty radical one, and Brett shared her views, but they mutually agreed they would try their best to allow her to be a stay at home wife in the future. She began dying her hair a curly platinum blonde that, along with some other minor changes, made her into a big, beautiful, doll.

Melissa also had a strong desire for a real-time relationship. She scoffed at the hilarious “Masters” she found on Internet sites who played the role of the badass Dominant while having no experience or any desire for a relationship that did not allow them to refer to her as a slut or cunt. The slave wanted a real man, who believed as she did and wanted to protect, dominate, and love her for eternity. Given the unpleasant political situation these days, Melissa found it important to find a strong man to love and care for her. She longed for strong masculine protection from the more disgusting aspects of the public sphere.

For them, a Master/slave relationship was the only way each truly felt alive. As all the turmoil in the country happened around them, Brett and Melissa quickly, after being tipped off by their friend Chip, traveled to their new district.

This district had a non-religious based belief in more traditional gender roles, where a man ran the home and the wife served him. For some, it was a more general belief; for many, its primary drive came from sex. Citizens of this district respected other people’s views, whether more sexual or vanilla. This was celebrated by the district; there was a decided lack of misogyny and talks of the inferiority of women. They just had a different role than men. This role was no worse or better than any other.

Their district was filled with people of varying philosophical persuasions. The leaders of the district, two brothers, one more traditional and conservative than the other, had decided to check out of the problems of the other districts. They had little to no interest in religion, military conquest, or many of the other problems that hindered the other districts. They wanted to give citizens the chance to live their lives happily with the values they shared with others. Respect and familial agency was critical.

Melissa never worried about mistreatment, or misuse, and was always eager to please the men of the district. She had turned over everything to Brett. The beautiful busty female was sent for a week to a training center for training. At the end of the week, the now platinum blonde woman and Brett were married in a, at their request, small ceremony. A black collar with the words “Mrs. Brett Sanderson 0685594” was snapped around her neck by Brett. There were two chips inside the collar, one that fed new information to her and generally kept her in line, and another useful for reprogramming by her husband.

Melissa quickly accepted her place as Mrs. Sanderson, having been trained at her own request to take a special pride in her new name. She relished in her role as wife and property. Brett treated her like an angel, and her life became even more devoted to his will. Soon enough, she was pregnant, and they settled into a happy domestic life.

After their morning prayer ending nearing 0600; Maria, named after the wife of Brett’s friend, and Bella returned to their rooms to shower; perform their morning ablutions; and prepare meals for the day. Melissa returned to the bedroom to find her husband Brett going through sports scores from the previous night on a three-dimensional display before him. Mr. Sanderson looked up as Melissa stood in the door, her nightie slightly disheveled enough that a massive amount of her large bust hung out. She smiled at him and swayed into the room.

At the side of the bed, Melissa knelt down before her husband. She left him when their alarm went off with a hard erection after a solid night of sleep, and had run a white-tipped nail over his cock before going off for morning prayers. When she returned to his side, he kissed her on the head gently before she undid his pajama pants and moved forward to pleasure him. Melissa loved oral sex and enjoyed the feeling of submission and happiness that came over her when her husband came in her mouth, which she swallowed down obediently.

By 0630, husband and wife were heading into the shower. Melissa went first so she could join their daughters downstairs while Brett also got ready for the day. Their maid, a programmed Domestic Doll they had purchased a few months before, one of a series they had adopted and then married off over the years, had prepared their outfits for the day, so all each had to do was perform their morning ablutions and then dress before coming downstairs. Melissa showered quickly and then, as Brett entered the shower, did her makeup and began dressing for this important day.

By 0700 when Brett came downstairs, looking nice in a sweater with a shirt underneath it and nice pants, his graying beard coming in a bit thicker than usual after a comment from his wife, his daughters and wife were busy portioning out breakfast while their Domestic Doll maid announced their schedules for the day. When the Sanderson women saw Brett at the bottom of the stairs, his daughters came over to greet him with a hug, Maria looking stunning in a purple skirt and sweater; Bella in a form-fitting tan dress; Melissa, behind them, gave him a little wave with her manicured hands.

They sat down and began eating their meals. All the focus of conversation was on Melissa, whose trip to District Six fascinated their daughters. “Well,” she began, “We have friends in District Six, from before the war, and I go visit them every year. Maria,” she looked over at her daughter, “she was my best friend. I am so glad you have been chatting with her occasionally when Chip allows it.” Their daughters had been raised very traditionally by their stay at home mother, but neither had taken much interest in the other districts until this summer as both began to interview potential suitors.

The young women had many interested men, but both were overwhelmed by the attention they drew and had begun thinking about the larger world around them. Maria and...Maria...had begun having video chats after six months before, with her taking a profound interest in how women were treated in District Six. She was a natural submissive and found the rules of that district, which her mother would visit today, fascinating.

* * *

Maria looked at me and smiled. “I do wish I could come with you.” She bit down on another pancake. I have always been so proud of how both my daughters have embraced the natural curves of being Sanderson women. After the war, when many people were just trying to survive, nonsense like fad diets went away pretty quickly. People were happy to be alive and, of course, people did care about their appearance, but obsessing over what those outside your home thought was something the majority did not bother with. That made me happy.

“I know,” I began to respond, “but we set rules for this courtship in the fall. He does not get to officially meet you until the end of the summer, when you visit with him in a neutral district.”

Maria bit her lip in this way that must drive men absolutely crazy. “I just wish this could go quicker. I want to do what you are doing this week.”

Brett and I shared a glance. We knew exactly what she meant: The chip. Gods, our daughter was such a submissive. Brett began walking to the sink with his dish and gave me a “I think I know where it came from” look that made me want to tear his clothes off right then and there. I am so proud of my submission and thrilled I passed it on to them in their adulthood.

After placing the dish in our washer, Brett came over to Maria and put a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time. I like my namesake in the Witwicky family, who is courting you as well, but be patient.” He hugged her gently and kissed her hair as she placed a pink nailed hand on his. “I understand you know what you want, but I do not want you,” he turned and looked at Bella as well, “either of you, to rush into a relationship. That is why we made these rules.” He faced both of them. “Both of you are worth waiting for and maintaining your purity until then.”

Soon, I thought with a sigh, mostly a happy sigh, they would belong to another home. That Sanderson collar they wore around their necks would be replaced with the name of their future husbands.

My mother was so mad when I took Brett’s name when we got married. I believe in women’s rights, despite being in a deeply submissive relationship, but I also believe, as Brett used to joke, in a “united front” against the world. We were The Sandersons and would take on all comers together. That mentality got us through the hard first few years during, and after, the war. Giving birth to Maria nearly killed me. My pregnancy with Bella ended up being fine, but we spent nine months waiting for the worst that never came. The bond between us as husband and wife, Master and slave, and human beings is something so strong that even thinking about it right now made me have to excuse myself to wipe away some smeared, tear stained, eye makeup.

When I came back into the room, Sarah, our Domestic Doll, had come back and announced that Brett’s ride was here to pick him up. The corporation that Brett worked at had a hover car come pick him and a few others up each morning as a courtesy. Brett thanked Sarah and told her to announce to them that he would be out in a few minutes.

“Sarah will be in charge while I am at work. I should be on time each day besides today.” He looked over at the chores chart on the wall. We had an old-fashioned chart, they went off alongside Sarah and me. “Today I see you will be sorting your dressers and washing bedroom sheets. Do not make Sarah do everything.” He was so firm, but also so fair. I wish all women could submit to such a man.

They had grown into such lovely women. Neither were ever a problem regarding behavior nor attitude. We set clear boundaries and were always honest and open with them, which seemed to work out fine.

He looked over at Sarah. “You have chores and then your lessons. I have to stay late for meetings today, but should be home by 1600. Now go,” Brett began, looking down at me, “I need to speak to my wife before she leaves.”

Maria and Bella said their goodbyes to me before heading to another part of the house to begin their morning duties. Brett leaned down and pulled me upwards. He stared at me for a few seconds. “Have I mentioned ever how sexy you are?”

I nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

He leaned in and kissed me hard on the mouth. “Please tell Chip and Maria I said hello. I spoke to him last week and promised I would come next time.” He kissed me again. “Okay, both of us have to leave.”

At that moment, Sarah swayed past us in her tight maid uniform and headed back to the kitchen to do something. Her empty, green, eyes were always focused on the task at hand. I turned to Brett and grinned. “You are so definitely going to fuck her, aren’t you?”

Brett bit down on his lip. “Maybe. Once. Twice. Yes.”

I laughed and pulled him into a tight hug. “I love you so much, Master. I promise to be well-behaved while visiting District Six.”

Brett put his head next to mine. “I believe they make sure of that.”

We walked outside together, holding hands, and I gave him a little wave as he got into the waiting hover car. My own would arrive in a few minutes and at that moment, a message came to my phone from my daughter’s friend Karen Larmer, 22, who, along with her husband, was also going to District Six to visit loved ones of his. Karen was newly married to a very nice man named Timothy. She had never been to District Six, so I timed my trip there to coincide with theirs so we could travel together. Karen was a very sweet lady who had really begun looking up to me after befriending our daughters at an event for unmarried women in the area.

My hover car arrived as scheduled, and I got in to join a few other women traveling to doctors near the trains. The driver was a female Domestic Doll with a collar that just said “Driver,” which meant she was owned by the district. Most of the time, when I traveled alone, I did so in these female-driven hover cars. They had existed when I was growing up and always gave me great ease. Today they were as normal as a woman only gym.

In post-war District Nine, many women felt uncomfortable traveling alone if men were there. The horrors of war had turned so many women inward. In fact, some families forbid the women in the family to travel in hover cars driven by men. Within the District, there were severe penalties for bothering or harassing women, but the sentiment was still there. Personally, as much as I love Brett, I have always felt so much more comfortable when I am with other women. The cars were definitely very safe, with cameras, bulletproof glass, and mandatory microchip check-ins for women, which I happily snapped into a sensor on the front of my collar, and there had only been one accident in the past four years. The Dolls that drove the hover cars were programmed for precision driving and obedience to all laws.

I spent the first part of the trip, which would be about 30 minutes in morning traffic, writing in my journal. All women in District Nine were required to write in a mandatory journal to give them space to be thoughtful and creative. Some husbands expected access to their wives’ journal, but Brett never even alluded to mine. I would show my beloved Master anything I wrote, but he had literally never mentioned it to me.

The news played in front of my seat on a projector. It showed a loop of information about women’s events in the area, local marriage and pregnancy announcements, and information catered towards women. I used to care deeply about the news, I can even remember when newspapers existed, but after the war a “Women’s Council,” was founded, I was an inaugural member, and a decision was made to publicly censor the news for women. The argument was made that many women suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, and what another district referred to as “Independent Female Syndrome,” after the war. There was a sharp rise in suicides and mental illness.

Keeping this information out of a woman’s hands, at least in public, made sense to me. I certainly did not need stories about war and politics constantly pounded into my brain. So many women also retreated into domestic life as well and towards a lack of interest in more worldly concerns. Brett still told me about important issues, of course, but many husbands kept their wives pretty out of the loop. Our daughters showed no real interest in any of it. They loved writing letters and reading romances. Nothing much mattered to them outside the home.

I made small talk with the other women in the car. One was going to find out if she was pregnant, another was going in for routine checkups. I had just had mine a few weeks before, so we chatted briefly about it. Since being pregnant with Maria and Bella, I had been in relatively good health. Both pregnancies had been littered with complications, but I was glad to have had them both when I did.

Once we arrived at the station, I said goodbye to the women in the hover car. She replied to me that “all shall be well,” which made me smile. Outside the car, I tapped a button on my collar, which would “ping” my whereabouts to my husband. Years ago, we had a program installed in my collar that could record and announce where I was to Brett at his whim. I did it automatically; I knew it had been conditioned into me at some point, but it felt so good that Brett would always know where I was at any time.

To someone who lived before the war, that may sound like a drastic invasion of privacy, but for us, it was about safety and then became about trust. The program also records my contacts, video and text conversations, and anywhere I go on the internet. Brett trusts me in all things, but I also consent to trust in allowing him into my private life. It really was for my own protection, and I embraced that. A moment passed before a message came up from Brett, telling me that he loved me and that we would speak during the week. That will certainly be interesting was all I thought as I began walking towards the station, so I could meet up with Karen and her husband.

As I walked out of the hover car and onto the main street that the station was on, I looked around at the busy street. Many people were traveling to other districts this morning, and some military were arriving. I stopped and shook a few of their hands, thanking them for their service, and said a silent prayer that an obedient wife was waiting for them as reward for their hard work to protect our district. Brett had instilled in me a deep respect for the military, and I loved supporting them.

I stopped in front of the station to gain access to the station. A beautiful pink haired drone, wearing a latex station uniform and high heels, scanned my collar and then nodded to me. She was lovely, and I felt a twinge of desire for her. There was something alluring about the...emptiness...of drones. Her vacant eyes existed only for obedience, which was also the stated priority on a small sticker on her collar, which offered a number to call if the drone malfunctions. I had never seen reason to complain about a drone.

When I entered the station, I looked around at the different train slots for each station. A high-speed train traveled between each district a few times a day. I found the one for District Six a bit down the path and walked down to it. As I walked, I saw the Larmers, Karen and Timothy, waiting near the big SIX sign. Another sign next to it advertised the values of District Six: “Women can find happiness in obedience, appreciation in service, and love in all things.” I gave them a wave and hurried a little bit, but the high-heeled boots I wore, one of my favorite pairs, slowed me down.

I offered Karen a hug and then curtsied slightly for her husband. “Hello, Mr. Larmer.” I always addressed men as “Mr. __” unless specifically told otherwise by them. I have to be honest, a long time ago it was a sexual fantasy of mine that Brett pushed me about. Nowadays, it is just a standard part of my life.

Mr. Larmer nodded and motioned to his wife. “We just got here, so it’s good to see you arrived right after us. We still have a little bit of time before our train arrives.” We talked for a few minutes, mostly about Mr. Larmer’s work and Karen attempting to get pregnant. She asked about Maria, who had not spoken to her in a few weeks, and I expressed gratitude for allowing me to travel along with them.

Our train arrived shortly after Mr. Larmer promised to make sure I arrived at my destination without harm. I really liked him. Karen had come to me seeking guidance during their courtship and I had met with him a few times when I found him to be kind, gentle, and an ideal husband for her. I had mentored her and remained close with her mother as well, who was a bit older than me and did not travel much outside the district because her husband’s injuries from the war prevented it.

We boarded the train and passed by a drone, who scanned both of our collars and Mr. Larmer’s district ID. We went through all under Larmer because of how District Six considered women as property of men.

I took Karen’s hand, and we walked up the stairs with Mr. Larmer in front of us. He asked Karen what room we had been given on the train, and she announced the number happily as he looked for it. After a moment, we found the number and were escorted to the room, where both Karen and I sat down while Mr. Larmer announced that he would be heading to the front cars to meet with a client while we traveled. Men never stopped trying to have meetings and do business; it was endless and tiring, but so it went for them. Brett could not stand people like that at his work, and I could not imagine enjoying it either.

* * *

We both gave him a wave and said hello to the woman that was accompanying us in the car. She was pretty plain in a long ankle-length dress and minimal makeup. The woman did have her nails done in a complex design, which looked so odd among her lack of feminine frivolity.

The woman stood up and put a hand out. “Hello, my name is Gianna. I see you are stuck going to the chauvinism district like me.” She smirked at us, which made Karen look over at me.

I took a breath and nodded. “Yes, well, we are going to District Six as well. My name,” I waved to myself, “is Melissa Sanderson and this,” I waved towards Karen, “is Karen Larmer.”

Gianna smiled. “Oh, I hear they make you call each Mrs. His Name in District Six. Can’t wait.”

Karen stared at Gianna for a long moment before speaking. “Why are you going to District Six?”

Gianna scoffed a bit. “My husband wants to look at some real estate there. He buys lands and helps people to build on it. There is apparently some prime land in District Six that has not been used yet. He insisted I came along, even though I can’t stand it.”

This time I asked the question. “You don’t like the rules of District Six?”

Gianna sighed. “They are fine for these people, but not for me. If women want to be things, that is their problem. I am going to make it clear to them that I am not interested. I will not be participating.”

“I don’t see a problem,” Karen began, almost immediately regretting the outburst, but continuing, “because women should be given a choice and others should respect those choices.”

“What do you do?” Gianna asked, pushing back some strands of her blonde hair. She was gorgeous. In some other circumstances, I would flirt with her.

“I am newly married, a few months ago, and going to be a housewife. We are visiting family here.” Karen answered. “Hopefully, a mother soon enough.” She added after a moment’s hesitation.

“I had a career in women’s health before the war, but after I met my husband, I got pregnant so we married, and I settled in as a stay at home mother. I had my second daughter a few years later,” I added.

I was about to explain the complications with both childbirths, but Gianna cut in. “Oh, he made you give up your career?”

I shook my head. “No, I made that decision. We talked it over while I recovered from a pregnancy and decided it would be best for me to be at home with them.” Brett had always been my biggest cheerleader. He had encouraged me to go back to school, so I could move into an administrative role at my job, but I decided, after the first rough pregnancy, to focus on motherhood. I had always wanted to move up to administration, where I could affect more change on a larger scale in the district by using the connections I had made on the women’s council. He stood by me and did not stop me when I never did quite go back to work after Bella was born a few years later.

“I love how men deny women even the most basic things. I would never let my husband force me to stay home.” Gianna was so obnoxious. I mean, who cares what others do. Women should support each other no matter their choices! “Does he make your other choices too? Like this silly ‘Family Voting’ thing in District Nine?”

“Family Voting,” as Gianna put it, was a law in District Nine that gave one vote to each family. Originally, this was because of the chaos of how the post-war districts were created, but it has become a way of creating compromise and measured responses to things. “My husband and I always discuss the issues he feels are important that I know about, and we make an informed decision.”

“Do you always agree?” This woman was beginning to annoy me. She reminded me of those women in the old days that claimed you could not be a feminist if you were submissive.

“Not always,” I slowly nodded, “because my husband always takes my thoughts into consideration and then decides. I comply to it because I trust his judgment.”

“He probably never takes your view seriously,” Gianna commented with a scoff. “My husband only sometimes does.” Karen gave me a look, so I did not explode on this woman. Who did she think she was?

“Sometimes my husband changes his view,” I explained, in measured tones, but sometimes I change mine. We talk things through and come to a consensus. Both of us believe the other deserves that.

Karen interjected after I stopped speaking. “I always vote how my husband says. I hate politics. In my marriage vows, I announced that I would always conform to his views on political issues. That is the place of men and is rather distasteful to me.” Having seen the corruption of pre-war politics, I tended to agree, but especially where women were concerned. The women who succeed in politics were often sexualized or just acted like men. Why bother? I never saw the point of it if that was going to be your behavior. It did not feel like a win for women when you were just as much of a jerk as male politicians.

Gianna scoffed. “Don’t you ever feel empty? You are just a housewife. I bet you could be much more.”

Karen opened her mouth to reply, but I interrupted her. “I also do volunteer work in the community, mentor women like Karen, and am an officer on the District Nine Women’s Council.”

These days, just as much as the time before the war, there seems to be animosity between career women and homemakers. Back in the old days, it was often fabricated by the media, but the resentment was real to an extent. The bottom-line for me was that some “career women” resented women like me and Karen because they were, frankly, envious of our ability to work hard with our families but also do meaningful things for our families and communities. “I also perform my family’s required charity hours with my daughters, which, I think, are a valuable part of District Nine.” When we established citizenship in District Nine, part of the process agreed to do a certain number of charitable hours per year. These can be broken up by a household member. My collar, while having our family name on the front, had the District Nine crest on the back in the background of a plugin interface. I was proud of my district and felt very patriotic.

“Well,” Gianna began, “I don’t need a council. I am going to speak my mind, even in such a place like District Six, where women are treated like objects. I will not wear——”

“Well,” I cut in, “you don’t literally have to wear the chip. It’s not totally mandatory, just strongly suggested because of the local customs.” I respected the ways of other districts. District Three was basically a woman dominated district, and I was fine while being there.

“I am going to refuse to wear it, of course,” Gianna argued back, “because I am an individual and can think for myself. I don’t need a man to tell me what to do.”

“I have never minded it when I went there. It was like a vacation where I didn’t have to do anything. My best friend has lived there for years, and she is happy.” I sighed heavily at this point.

“Yeah, I bet they make her think that. She might really hate it and never even know. Or you might too. Ever think your husband just had you brainwashed? But maybe not because you seem to get off on it.” Gianna was bemused by all of this. She was not exactly wrong about the getting off part, though, in all honesty.

Suddenly, my eyes drifted to Gianna’s acrylic nails, which seemed to be a sharp contrast with the more plain dress and light makeup she wore.

“Gianna, those are gorgeous nails.” They honestly were: Her nails were silver with a pretty butterfly design on them. I wore similar ones with doves on them sometimes.

“Oh,” Gianna began, waving them at Karen and me, “thank you. My husband loves them.” For the first time, she smiled at me.

I had a sudden realization. There was something I needed to prove first, though. “Gianna, why do you get your nails done? It seems so improper with the rest of how you dress.”

Gianna’s bright smile, she had wonderfully white teeth, gleamed as she responded to my query. “Well, it is what my husband wants.” The beautiful blonde blinked a few times and continued to smile.

I exchanged a look with Karen. “What our husbands want is what truly matters, isn’t it?”

Gianna nodded. “Yes! A good wife obeys her husband in all things.” She blinked again and returned to her usual look of pity for me and Karen.

I looked over at Karen again. She was drawing the same conclusion that I had come to after questioning Gianna. Gianna’s sudden behavior change was a clear indication her husband had begun conditioning his wife without her knowing.

A further realization dawned on me, and I smiled back at Gianna. Her husband was probably going to keep her in District Six. That was their business, but this bitch had mocked my values. I was going to make sure she was humiliated before her husband has his way with her mind.

I pulled my phone out and sent a message to Brett. I wish you were here. I did. He would probably talk me out of this, but I was mad. While Karen engaged Gianna in conversation about her attempts to get pregnant, I pulled up an app that had been added to my phone the last time I traveled to District Six. I had completely forgotten about it until, likely some kind of post hypnotic suggestion, and tapped out a brief message with the tips of my nails. A reply came a moment later, and I excused myself to use the restroom, but not before giving Karen a trust me look.

In the corridor, I walked down the hall and saw my first resident of District Six. A husband and wife sat in a car, the wife staring straight ahead with a happy, brainwashed, smile on her face. As an offshoot of one of the government’s secret mind control programs before the war, they had discovered a way to infuse nano-fibers with tiny chips that could control a person. The chip snapped into the collar, which already had pinchers that entered the skin for programming needs, and put the resident of the chip into a deeply programmable state where their personality is merged with the default values of District Six’s ideal woman. The woman looked so happy as she responded to a question from her husband.

I made my way into the bathroom, which had cleared out beside a drone, a redhead. I quickly told my story to the drone. She nodded and smiled along to encourage me to speak about Gianna. The drone paused when I finished, her eyes going distant and blank for a minute while the information I had given her was uploaded and then sent to the train station administrator for District Six, who I had met a few times before. Suddenly, the drone came back to life and instructed me to return to my seat and to wait for orders.

I smiled and gave her a wave, and then began moving back through the corridor again. I saw Mr Larmer talking to a few other men in a car. One of them had a drone, this one pink haired and dark skinned, sitting on their lap. He gave me an everything okay look and I nodded, but grinned to myself when I passed the room.

As I passed each room, I tried to figure out who Gianna’s husband was. Of course, that was probably silly, but still, this game helped keep me calm. I knew the administrator would side with me, and surely, her husband would as well, so I was less nervous and more...excited. I was excited to see an independent woman turned into the brainwashed plaything of her husband. I had no idea how to feel about that. If only Brett was here to tell me what to think!

Kidding.

Maybe.

When we arrived in District Six, all “participating” women were asked to leave their rooms and follow drones that had come into the halls of the train. Karen and I followed a blue-haired drone, with Gianna saying goodbye to us so she could find her husband.

As we began down the hall, however, another drone came up to her with a security officer. They arrested her on sight for “attempts at instigating feminine chaos.” Karen looked at me as Gianna struggled, but was held tightly by the strong drone. Another man approached us alongside Mr. Larmer and asked that we join him in a meeting room. He looked at me, and then at Karen, and we both shrugged.

* * *

Being naturally submissive, nothing about District Six really bothered me. If women decide they want to be programmed into dutiful obedience, that is their choice. Gianna wanted to have the choice to do as she would, but did not want to give it to others if they chose something else. It was so unfathomable today and, since her husband seemed to be pushing her towards submission anyway, which was only their business, I thought I would push her a little bit further.

We arrived at the administrator’s office. Mr. Anderson was a man a little older than Brett and me. He wore glasses, preferring them to the eye surgeries of the time, and was tall, but kind and soft-spoken in nature. He stood up when we entered the room and I curtsied and then bowed as was the custom for women in this district. After a moment, and a look towards her husband, Karen did the same.

“Mrs. Sanderson! I am so happy you have come to visit our district again.” He turned towards the Larmers. “I met Mr. Larmer a moment ago, but I assume this is his wife, Karen?”

Karen stood up, “yes, Sir.”

“Great!” He took a few steps towards me. “Your visit to this district is always welcome, Mrs. Sanderson, but this one seems to have come with some issues.”

I looked up and then stood straight again. “Yes, Sir, but issues easily correctable.” I smiled at him, which he returned after staring at me for a moment. I need to remember to make it clearer to the world that they should not mess with me.

Mr. Anderson nodded. “I agree, and so does Mr. Pirloti.” He pushed a button on his desk and in walked both Mr. Pirloti, and accompanied by Mr. Anderson’s chipped assistant and the security officer from before, Gianna, who looked furious and kept trying to resist the man, but he held her tight. The drone snapped to attention in front of Mr. Anderson, but he told it to leave, which it did obediently.

“I am saddened by what I heard here,” Mr. Pirloti began, “but this just proves that I have made the right decision, transferring my job to District Six. It will do good for my wife.”

“You pig!” Gianna screamed, but the security officer jabbed her with an inhibitor, which calmed her down enough so he could hold her steady. I watched while Mr. Pirloti walked over and snapped a collar around his wife’s neck. The black collar read “Pirloti” on the front, which made me smile, and she gasped as it not only became snug around her neck, but the probes inside it entered the skin. After a moment, mouth open, she looked ahead, eyes shifting quickly, but not moving.

“I am your husband,” Mr. Pirloti said quietly, “you will obey me. Remain quiet.” Gianna looked like she was trying to say something, probably nasty, or some kind of verbal sparring she was accustomed to volleying back at him, but no words other than “I will obey” came out of her mouth. I gave Karen a look, and so did her husband, after she let out a loud giggle.

Mr. Anderson took a few steps towards Gianna. “If you are going to stay in District Six, you will need to learn the customs of our district.” He waved a hand towards me. “Mrs. Sanderson here does not even live in the district, but she is fine with following our customs.” He looked at me. “Why is that?”

I stepped forward a step, the heels of my boots echoing off the hard floor. “I conform to the customs of the district because that is how my husband has taught me, Sir.” I bit down for a second and then looked over at the men. “May I show Mrs. Pirloti, Sir?”

The men all looked at each other. Mr. Anderson pulled a circular chip out of his desk and walked it over to me. I pulled my hair up and turned it until the chip was in sync with the interface on the back of my collar. As I snapped it into place and had my personality reprogrammed for my stay in District Six, I looked up and glared a hole through Mrs. Pirloti’s head.

* * *

Mrs. Sanderson let out a loud gasp as new programming entered her collar, which then added temporary reprogramming to her personality. Her body was filled with nano-probes which interfaced with the collar and internal, and external, conditioning. She blinked a few times, eyes wide and filled with submission, and then extended her voluptuous body in an extended bow. The big, beautiful, slave wife did not speak as was custom in District Six.

This time it was Mr. Larmer who stepped forward. “Mrs. Sanderson, what is your purpose while in District Six?”

Mrs. Sanderson moved gracefully from her bow and curtsied. “Master, it is Mrs. Sanderson’s duty as a visitor to District Six to obey.” She smiled happily.

Mr. Larmer gestured towards Karen. She looked over to Mrs. Sanderson, who smiled at her. Her friend had informed the busty dark-haired wife that this would probably be how they would enter District Six, minus all the issues with Gianna, with Mrs. Sanderson being programmed first and then Karen following suite. Despite accepting this, after all, her and her husband had done some hypnotic play beforehand at the suggestion of the Sandersons, she was still nervous.

When Mr. Anderson handed Mr. Larmer another disc though, Karen stepped forward proudly, heels clicking on the floor, took the disc from her husband, and brushed her long, dark hair, aside enough to snap the disc into place on her collar.

After the same machinations that Mrs. Sanderson went through, Mrs. Larmer curtsied, bowed, and proclaimed her duty to obey while in District Six. She felt deep happiness at the clarity the disc had given her. Her entire purpose was the men in the room, with her husband being first and foremost always. Taking advantage of another man’s wife was a death penalty offense in District Six.

Mrs. Sanderson was still in a curtsy, a happy smile on her brainwashed face, when the men turned back to her. Mr. Anderson was the first to speak. “Mrs. Sanderson, you did the right thing in reporting Mrs. Pirloti to us. I know in our previous conversations, you have expressed discomfort with women who do not follow the customs of the various districts.”

Mrs. Sanderson nodded cheerfully. “Yes, Master, Mrs. Sanderson believes strongly that all customs should be followed to not offend the residents of those districts. Mrs. Sanderson even followed customs in District Three.” District Three was run as a matriarchy led by an all-woman high council. She had visited there a few years ago to see friends from university who were now on the high council. It had been quite the illuminating trip for her; she had been required to command not only men, but women as well. At first, she had been uncomfortable, but grew to be fine with it to fit in with her dear old friends, who were bemused by the conflicts with her submissive nature.

Mr. Pirloti scoffed at the matriarchal society, but Mr. Anderson put up a hand, and he ceased with mockery. “All the districts have their own ways, and we respect that, so long as they do ours.” He turned and waved a hand at Gianna. “Mrs. Pirloti needs to learn that respect, don’t you agree?” Mrs. Sanderson nodded in the affirmative. Behind her, Mrs. Larmer beamed with a proud smile. Her mentor was such an incredible, obedient, woman.

Mr. Anderson handed a third and final disc to Mrs. Sanderson. “Please show her how to begin learning that respect.”

“Yes, Master,” Mrs. Sanderson answered with a curtsy and walked over to where Mrs. Pirloti was being held. While the security officer held the blonde in place, she picked up her hair and slid the disc into the new collar. Mrs. Pirloti gasped as new conditioning was forced into her body and, more importantly, her mind.

For a moment, she showed signs of struggle, but Mrs. Pirloti acquiesced to her new programming. While the men discussed what would happen to her, Mrs. Sanderson and Mrs. Larmer waited patiently, content in their inaction as there was no direct command for them to obey. Mrs. Larmer especially was proud of how Mrs. Sanderson had helped that other rude woman. She shuddered at the idea of ever being that unruly, especially to her wonderful husband who she, with a force even stronger than her normal adoration for him, saw pleasing as her only purpose. Mrs. Larmer had always been obedient because it was how she was with him, but now she saw the clarity in it being her complete and absolute purpose.

A few more minutes passed before Mrs. Pirloti’s initial conditioning was complete. She stood up from the chair and curtsied slowly, with a bit of awkwardness, and then bowed forward. The men patted each other on the back. She had totally accepted the first round of new programming. Mrs. Sanderson also shared a happy glance at Mrs. Larmer to note the successful endeavor. The big, beautiful, slave had thought she had sufficiently explained the process to her friend before they arrived in District Six, but maybe it just had to be seen to be understood. These nice men, she was confident, would be helpful.

Mr. Pirloti stood before his wife. “What is your purpose?”

Mrs. Pirloti straightened and smiled softly with submissive passion. “Master, you are Mrs. Pirloti’s purpose.” The fiery eyed woman from the train trip to District Six had been replaced by a doe eyed beauty that existed only for her husband. Those eyes never left him as she waited for further instruction.

Mr. Anderson came forward and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Andre, it is time for you and your wife to head to the clinic.” The drone from earlier came back into the room and stood next to Mrs. Pirloti. “Please follow this drone to the private taxi we have gotten as part of your wife’s retraining package. It will give some privacy while you travel.”

Mrs. Pirloti moved to stand with her husband, who leaned down, with the sensible shoes she wore the slave was nearly a foot shorter than him, and kissed her. “We will be away at the clinic for a week.” A thrill went through him as her passive eyes never left him. “When we return, we can visit with your new friends over here before they return to District Nine.”

He turned and motioned to Mrs. Sanderson and Mrs. Larmer, with the former moving forward to obey and the latter following her a moment later. “Mrs. Sanderson and Mrs. Larmer are fine women who would not need a week in the clinic.” Mr. Pirloti took his wife’s small hands in his own. “There is a lot you can learn from them, Gianna.”

His wife blinked a few times. She turned and smiled at both women. “Master, these new friends are women she can learn much from.” Her smile turned to Mrs. Sanderson. “Mrs. Sanderson is especially important to Mrs. Pirloti; she is a role model for how women should behave.”

Mrs. Sanderson smiled back. What a nice thing for her to say! She realized that Mrs. Pirloti was, after all, her friend. She would try to help her as much as possible. “Mrs. Sanderson’s husband is responsible for her behavior, sis.” Yes, Gianna was like a sister to her. All women, she professed silently, could be if they were more respectful of the choices of others. She turned and faced Mr. Pirloti. “Your husband can teach you his behavior expectations.”

Mrs. Pirloti gasped and clapped her manicured hands together. She turned to her husband. “Master, you can teach your wife how to be the best wife.”

His took her in his arms, and they left with the drone. Mrs. Sanderson watched the blue-haired drone sway away as dirty thoughts went through her mind.

Before she could continue the naughty line of thinking, Mrs. Larmer put her hand on the woman who had helped her become the woman she was today. Her blue eyes showed a submissive docility that made her smile. “We have to go. Master will drop you off at Mr. Witwiky’s home.”

Mrs. Sanderson smiled, took her friend’s hand, and they left for their own taxi. On the way to the Witwicky residence on the other side of District Six, the Larmers discussed the situation with Mrs. Sanderson. All parties felt Mrs. Pirloti would be way better off.

* * *

A week later, Mrs. Sanderson was traveling back to the train station via a supply ship. She stood at attention in the back car alongside some drones and Domestic Dolls. After a wonderful week of domestic service and visiting with her wonderful friend, it was time to return home. She stared blankly ahead, pouty mouth slightly ajar, like the brainwashed, big, beautiful, slave wife she really was. Her body was adorned in a cleavage baring pink dress, white stockings, and black high heels. Upon arrival at the station, the entire room came back to life and all inside it entered the station in an orderly manner.

Mrs. Sanderson immediately walked, wide hips swaying, to her destination, which was the same building where Mrs. Pirloti had been arrested. She was supposed to reconvene with her the Larmers before they returned to District Nine. It would be nice to see the wonderful woman she had mentored for the past few years who had grown into such a wonderful, obedient, dutiful, wife for her husband.

The tranquil woman entered the building after having her collar scanned by a latex wearing drone at the door. “Report to room seven,” the drone chirped at her in an up-pitched voice fitting the doll-titted blonde’s bimbo look. Mrs. Sanderson nodded and entered the building to immediately follow the instruction.

After knocking on the door to room seven with feminine gentleness, it swooshed open after a moment. Inside the room, she found Mr. Anderson from earlier. in the week As she curtsied, knelt, bowed, and then returned to a kneeling position, he told the same joke about their names being similar, which got a giggle out of the brainwashed woman.

After a moment, the Larmers entered the room. Mrs. Larmer looked absolutely glowing in a long skirt and high-heeled sandals. Her manicured hands ran over the tight sweater she wore, which showed off her curves quite nicely. She gave a tiny wave to her mentor and then knelt next to the older woman.

After a moment, she turned and smiled blissfully. “Mrs. Sanderson, Master, has such wonderful news about Mrs. Larmer.” The young wife looked so content and absolutely drowning in her femininity.

Mr. Larmer stepped forward and asked both women to stand up. “Mrs. Sanderson,” he began, rather formally, “there have been many developments for the Larmers while you were visiting your friend.” He motioned towards his wife to announce the most important news.

“Mrs. Larmer is pregnant!” She exclaimed quite loudly. The women hugged and Mrs. Sanderson offered congratulations, tears dropping her face, due to her proud she was of her mentoree.

After allowing them to celebrate for a moment, Mr. Larmer put up a hand and both women immediately ceased their joyful embracing. “There is further news.” He stood in front of Mrs. Sanderson and ran a hand over her face, which made his wife’s mentor blush. “We will be forever grateful to you and Mr. Sanderson for all of your help. My wife speaks so highly of you and looks to you as a role model, which I find very pleasing. Your husband has been a helpful teacher for me as well.”

Mr. Larmer paused for a moment and then continued. “We will be moving to District Six permanently.” He looked over at his smiling wife. “I have been offered and accepted a job here.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Sanderson began with glee, “that is so wonderful to hear, Master.” She turned and faced Mrs. Larmer. “Mrs. Sanderson will truly miss you.” They hugged again. “Mrs. Sanderson will ask her husband for permission to correspond with you.”

Mr. Larmer nodded. “He has already approved it. Your friend Mrs. Pirloti will be a good friend for us as well. She is absolutely dying to be mentored by you.”

At this point, everyone said their goodbyes. Mr. Anderson escorted Mrs. Sanderson to where Brett was waiting for her. The dutiful wife’s last memory before her chip was deactivated was the glare her lovely husband gave Mr. Anderson when he tried the “our names are similar” joke on him.

* * *

It is really challenging to describe what it is like when you “wake up” after leaving District Six. There is this...rush of awareness of who you are. Your thoughts, the random nonsense and bullshit that dances around in your head all day, come flooding back like a river overflowing when a levee breaks. There is a certain amount of pain, and I was so happy to find myself in Brett’s arms when I woke up, as always. Everyone else had left the room to allow us some time alone. I held on to him for dear life, like I always did.

I have to admit, there is always a part of me that will miss the chipping process in District Six after it is turned off. When it is on, not only are you under control, but there are no doubts or concerns about anything other than obedience. There is a sense of tranquility.

An odd thing that happens too is that your memories may trick you. I could remember performing tasks, doing things, saying words, but many moments were fuzzy and out of context. I will remember being told to do something, and doing it, but nothing else about the moment. On one hand, it was rather off-putting, to say the least, but it was also a sign of a complete personality break to make submission a woman’s only purpose.

I can admit how hot that is to me. Being my own personal unreliable narrator.

“Sssh, don’t talk,” he whispered gently into my ear. “Not until we are on the train.” We walked hand in hand through the station and onto the train. I kept my eyes lowered and followed his lead. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we sat down in our private car and I let out a relieved sigh.

Brett examined me carefully. “I know I always ask this question, but what do you remember?”

I took a deep breath. “Well, I got on the train with Karen and her husband...” What was his name? I now thought of him as “Mr. Larmer,” which did not bother me. “We settled in and there was this woman—”

“Her name is Gianna,” Brett confirmed to me with a reassuring nod.

“Right...” I thought for a second. “...she was really aggressive and made me mad. She mocked Karen a lot. I hated how rude she was...and then we realized Mr. Pirloti had been conditioning her already, so I decided to...” I stopped and grinned mischievously. “...accelerate the process a bit.”

Brett was quiet for a moment. “In the future, I would really like you to discuss that...sort...of thing with me first. I am not mad at you, but there could have been problems.” He ran a hand over my face, which I gently kissed. “I just don’t want you in danger...that woman...she is obviously very weak-minded.” He paused while one of his fingers slid into my mouth and I sucked on it like a cock. “What else do you remember?”

“After that,” I began, “everything is fuzzy...I think I remember Karen being chipped...and then some stuff when I visited the Witwickys…”

“I can then remember finding out the Larmers were staying in District Six. I felt so happy for her.” I paused while a few tears went down my face. “Brett, I am so happy for them. All Karen has wanted was to be a good wife and mom...but my feelings...they feel so pure.” I broke down crying at the shock of the emotional residuals of my time in District Six. Brett held me close and whispered that I should just let it out, and I did. I curled up against him for most of our journey home. I cleaned myself up afterward, and we exited the car and into District Nine’s station.

We held hands as we walked through the station until I came to a hard stop when I saw Maria, Bella, and our Domestic Doll waited for us in the station. I ran as fast as my heels would allow and jumped into their arms. I was so happy to see my daughters again. After our happy reunion, Bella dragged Brett over and pulled him into the hug as well.

I will miss Karen a lot, but I have such a wonderful life in District Nine. I would not want to live as a chipped slave for my husband forever. I do not need a chip to submit to him. I want to be an obedient wife, a devoted mother, and to promote proper gender roles because I love him. I do not need to be brainwashed to do that and because we have taught them so well, both of our daughters are ready to take their place in the world, will unless they decide it is right for them.

I like taking a trip to District Six, but I could never leave District Nine.

* * *

Mrs. Larmer and Mrs. Pirloti walked into a classroom, holding hands, for their morning lesson. They had been taking weekly classes for months now to learn the laws and regulations of District Six to become citizens of the district. As her new best friend and other women helped Mrs. Larmer to sit down on the pink couches they sat on during their lesson, it was clear how much both ladies had been changed by their experience in District Six.

Karen’s body had begun to really show her pregnancy. Her already large breasts were swollen and plump, as were her hips. The beautiful housewife looked lovely in her heavy makeup. She had begun to slow down her day-to-day activities since Mr. Larmer had bought them a Domestic Doll for use in the home.

The formerly headstrong and angry Gianna was now all smiles and cheer as she sat down as well. Her husband had cut his wife off from the rest of the districts and immediately began changing Mrs. Pirloti, as she now proudly thought of herself, to fit his desires. She was now a bottle blonde with pink streaks through her hair that matched the tips of her nails. Massive breast implants and genetically enhanced pouty lips made sure no one would think of her as anything but a trophy wife. The plaid skirt and high heels she wore right now certainly played into that. Thinking was something Gianna did on a limited basis and only with her husband’s permission.

As the women in the room conversed, primarily about the progress of Karen’s pregnancy, almost every woman in the room was already trying or scheduled to begin trying to get pregnant, the door to the room opened up and a mini-skirted woman came into the room on a leash followed by a handsome man in a sweater vest and stylish jeans. All speaking ceased as he entered and motioned for his wife and kneel on the floor next to him. Peppermint had been a protester in another district who was “lost” after an arrest and turned into the leather-loving bimbo wife now at her Master’s feet.

“Okay, class,” the man began with a generous smile. “It is time for you to focus on your citizenship lesson.” This trigger phrase put every woman in the room into a deep trance. Each one of them stared straight ahead, mouths slightly open, with minds open and ready to be programmed. “Today we are going to have a bit of a review session before your exam next week.”

“Yes, Master,” replied every woman in the room.

“Good girls...first...Mrs. Pirloti...what is the most important job for a wife in District Six?”

The simple-minded trophy wife raised her hand despite already being called on. The teacher found this bit of bimbo behavior to be quite a turn on, so he required it of them. “A wife loves, honors, and obeys her husband. It is more important than anything besides having being pregnant,” she answered in a sing songy, up pitched, voice.

“Superb!” The teacher commended Gianna for her well conditioned answer. “Now...Mrs. Larmer...can you name five qualities of a housewife in District Six?”

Karen smiled proudly as she rose her hand. Most of these she had known before even coming to District Six, but they were even clearer now. “Five qualities of a housewife in District Six are always putting pregnancy first and foremost, needing to have as many for him as possible, conforming to the values of District Six, obeying him at all times, and always being pleasing in body and attitude.”

All of these things she had known beforehand because of the mentoring of Mrs. Sanderson. Her friend had taught her all of this over the past few years. She took pride in her submission, in the wide hipped, busty, body that pleased Mr. Larmer so much, and soaking herself in her femininity because of that teaching. As others around the room answered questions, she could not wait for what came next.

The End

* * *

Please email me your thoughts on this and my other stories available in this archive.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

District Six explores my interest in a society where the women are not only brainwashed into obedience, but happy and enthusiastic about it. The society has rules and regulations to ensure there is no abuse or advantages taken against owned property. Seems only fair to me.

Gianna’s rebellion is referenced in my Feminine Obedience Academy series in the story Feminine Obedience Academy: April when April visits District Six with her advisor and lover Dr. Shrewsbury some months after this story. Will Gianna reappear at some point? Maybe? I can confirm that Brett and Melissa’s daughter Bella will be in a future Feminine Obedience Academy story.

Finally: I am so happy to write a story where the protagonist bounces between narrating in the first person to being narrated about in the third person. I find this to be very erotic and was inspired by this in a feminist novel I read back at university a few decades ago where the protagonist goes back and forth in sections of the book between narrating her story and then losing that first person narration, and then gaining it back finally before the end. I have wanted to write a story like this for so long and am delighted you get to read it now.