He had risen in his Mistress’s ranks- from boyfriend to sex toy to henchman to slave. With each step, he had given more and more of himself over to her and her cause. Now he was to be given one final gift for his loyalty- a chance to be converted into one of Mistress’s mindless automatons. 

Not every potential convert took to the process. Some were too weak- their neurons and nerves unable to stand Mistress’s strong current. Some showed themselves as cowards- backing out at the last moment and being summarily jailed for their disloyalty.

He knew instinctually that he would never shame Mistress like that. Since she had first introduced the automatous models, he knew he wanted to be like them. He longed for it all- their blank faces, their stiffness, and their perfect mindless obedience to every one of Mistress’s commands. They were her will made flesh- exactly what he always strived to be. 

On the day of his conversion,  two of her already-converted soldiers escorted him to MIstress’s lab. A huge, buzzing machine towered over one of the corners of the room. It was magnificent.  Lights pulsed and danced hypnotically over different components as the machine itself made a soft whirring sound.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” said a seductive, familiar voice in his ear. He knelt instinctively as she walked in front of him. “It took me years to develop. So much trial and error to learn how to separate the will from the consciousness without harming the body. So much time learning how to combine organic matter and machine in a way that could survive. And now- here it is. A perfect conversion machine, freeing the body from the self once and for all.”

“You’re brilliant, Mistress,” he said in awe.

She smiled, tenderly. Then she tilted his head up to look at her.  “Once you go through this machine, you will be nothing but mine. No will or thoughts or desires or anything to stand between us. Are you sure you want that, my love?”

“Yes mistress,” he replied. Then added, “Please”

She stared at him intensely. “Tell me you want to be erased.”

He replied- “I want to be erased.”

“Tell me you want to be annihilated.”

“I want to be annihilated. “

“You want to be nothing but an instrument of my will”

“I want to be nothing but an instrument of your will.”

“Good.,” she softened. Then, business-like, she continued “You know the procedure. We’ll convert your head first. That way you won’t have to  feel pain from the..trickier parts later.”

She took his hand, gently guiding him up off his knees. She squeezed it, comfortingly.  Then, she led him over to the chair attached to her giant, awesome machine.  

She strapped him into the chair with rubber restraints. (”It’s not that I don’t trust you sweetie, it’s just that everyone jumps.”) Then she slowly lowered a giant helmet over his head. It looked like a big, golden bubble- like part of a kid’s spaceman costume. It rested heavy on his chest and shoulders and smelled a bit like toast. Once on, he could hear the helmet’s light mechanical buzz.

She stood in front of him again and  explained that in a moment, the machine would send a shock through the helmet directly into his brain and body. This electricity was directly calibrated to disengage parts of his prefrontal cortex associated with a sense of identity or distinction from the world around him. His inner monologue would die, replaced by whatever words that she would choose to speak directly into his mind. His automatic functions would continue, but any sense of consciousness would be tied to the commands of her voice. 

She asked him one more time for his consent.

He nodded his approval. 

As the machine turned on, he heard a louder whirr. A sense of not-unpleasant tingling started to run through his body. He was full of nervous, excited energy.

She flipped a switch,

Suddenly a huge, electric sensation jolted through his mind and his body. Everything seemed/felt/was a big white light.  It felt powerful. Blinding. Religious, even- like old paintings of people lowering their eyes from the face of God. 

There was the smell of burning as his body started to convulse. It felt a bit uncanny but also good.  So good. So so so so good good good then all of his muscles went stiff suddenly as jolts of energy flowed through him, tensing his whole body. Then it felt orgasmic! Then it felt rapturous! Then it felt..

Then it felt nothing.

It felt nothing. 

It was nothing

Blankness.

For some time. 

She lifted the helmet and quickly implanted an antennae to the back of its head. It held still, unaware. Staring. Uncommanded.  She calibrated the antennae wiring to her microphone and raised the microphone to her lips. 

Suddenly, a voice spoke its consciousness through it like a burst of light and charge. “Stand up”

It stood. Everything was standing up. 

“Arms up!”

The voice animated it like electricity itself. Arms stiffly raised in front of it, zombie-style.

It distantly felt a kick. It did not react. It did not even really register. It did not have instructions for this to  register so it did not.

“Laugh!”, the voice commanded.

A loud, mechanical laughing sound emerged from its lips. It continued for several empty minutes until the command “stop” instantly silenced the noise. 

She smiled, proudly. “Look at you, my perfect zombie slave. I knew you’d  be beautiful like this. You’re going to be such a useful foot soldier.” She kissed its’ cheek, a gesture of affection she had not shown for the longest time. 

In response, it felt nothing.

It was nothing to feel.

It awaited commands.