I cleaned up after myself as soon as I was able to stand. My master, meanwhile, was busy finalizing the processing protocol. When I was done, a mind-locked officer had entered the room. He handed me a new phone and a clear plastic earbud, the kind that security agents or media production assistants wear. I put it in, excited to learn from Helen that I could remotely be fed commands anytime my superiors wanted me to obey directly. The rest of the time, I was going to serve of my own controlled will at my own discretion. Also – since there was no more way for me to abuse my power – I was given maximum clearance for my citizen level. It felt almost wrong. I was a drone after all, and some part of me would rather have no rights at all. But since I had been enslaved to serve with every part of myself and not just my body and my labor, it was of actually preferable for me to have as much agency as possible. I would only ever use it to be a better servant of the State.

Before we moved on, my master took a moment to get a taste of my body. There was no more need for false modesty after all. If he desired me, I was going to give him every last part of myself. 

It felt so good to know that I was something he wanted to fuck as well as something that would be a useful asset to his team. I eagerly let him kiss me and feel up every last part of me, and his hands found their way beneath my shirt, across my ass, and down the hem of my pants, finally brushing across my pubic hair and further down into the wetness between my legs. I wanted him. I wanted to bend over and give him my holes, let him use me right then as my first act of obedience – but we had to go back to work, sooner rather than later. 

I buttoned up my pants, straightened my shirt and my hair, and tried to give him one more kiss. 

He stopped me, and shook his head.

“No,” he said with an understanding smile. “I appreciate it, but that’s not how it is,” 

I shot a look at Helen, who gave me a sheepish little shrug.

“Of course, Master,” I said. I would have been disappointed if it hadn't been exceedingly clear that he was still definitely going to use me. The only misunderstanding had been my assumption that he wanted my affection and not just my availability. He could of course have either, any time he wanted. 

“Okay, Drone Madeline. Let’s brief you then.”

I smiled and stayed professional even as a shiver of excitement and arousal went down my spine. Drone Madeline. It was pure correctness. I knew he had said that on purpose, and I was almost sure that he had noticed my reaction to it as well – if his smile was any indication.

It was a simple task, really. Something I had done many times before. I asked some minor follow-ups for possible contingencies and noted his answers down in my new Gov-issue phone next to the itinerary he had given me. 

I didn’t know much about my master yet, but he was obviously well-versed in the technicalities and protocol of Line processing. It felt immediately rewarding and exciting to be working for him, not only because submission and service was the best thing in the world, but also for all the reasons I would have felt if I hadn’t been enslaved. He respected my expertise, and I respected his. He was quick and attentive and thoughtful, and utterly committed and ruthless. When he spoke about what needed to be done, there was not a hint of doubt in his voice that there should be any consideration except for what best served the State. Just as it should be. 

As we were wrapping up I had an idea, and suggested a tweak in procedure. He was immediately open to it, and we discussed it briefly, weighing pros and cons and risks until he finally approved it. He made a change to the protocol, and I was cleared to proceed, and that was it. 

Time to get to work.

I took the elevator down to sublevel six of Intake, and as the cabin hummed around me during our descent I couldn't help but feel giddy and excited about being part of all of this. The button for sublevel six was noticeably less worn-out than one through four, and it made me think about how special this was, and what a wonderful gift I had been given. Getting to do this was a privilege.

Slightly less privileged but no less enslaved were the two mind-locked agents that had been placed under my command to assist me and protect me with their lives. I had picked the two most physically imposing ones, and they were definitely going to help – albeit in a slightly unusual way. 

The door opened, and the three of us proceeded to the holding cell that had been moved to the top of my itinerary at my suggestion.

“I’m sorry about this, Julie,” I lied.

She had been stripped and shackled, and she looked strangely unlike herself because of it. Material like her didn’t have any right to dignity of course, but it still felt weird to see her like this.

She looked up at me, her eyes red, her makeup smeared. She was a distraught mess. It was rather understandable. It would soon be over, though.

“Madeline?” she whimpered. She made a wet noise, somewhere between a gulp and a sob and a groan. “Oh Fate, this is just so cruel. Couldn't they have brought someone else in to do this?” She was looking at the agents to my left and right as she sobbed. “Isn’t it enough to put us on the Line?! Do you fucking have to make us process each other too?!”

Good. Just like I had hoped: She hadn’t been able to tell that I was a drone. She thought that I was being forced to do this. A cold comfort, but still the easier option. If she knew how much I wanted this, this would be much harder for the both of us. There would probably be a lot more screaming.

“This is her punishment,” said one of the agents, repeating my lie just as instructed earlier. "She will be enslaved last."

Julie looked at me with quiet sorrow in her eyes, and and I knew I had made the right choice. She was going to come quietly. 

“Get up, material," said the agent, and she did as she was told. 

We took her to the elevator, through the corridors, and back to my processing station without any incident. I breathed a sigh of quiet appreciation. It was exciting to be back where I had been enslaved. Looking at my processing chair gave much such a warm feeling of appreciation and arousal. Helen was there as well, sitting behind my desk, busy as always on her tablet. Apparently she could work anywhere she liked. She looked up as we entered, and we shared a brief smile before she quickly turned her attention back to her task.

The men put Julie into the chair, and her shackles locked themselves in. There were tears in her eyes, and I could see that she was shivering. She knew that she didn't have much time.

“You made the right choice,” she said. Her voice sounded hollow and heavy. “It’s... better this way. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. And if it’s going to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

She looked at me, and somehow managed to smile. “Please be gentle. It’s my first time.”

I felt a sudden lump in my throat. Some memory of a familiar feeling. I was back on the other side of the processing terminal, where I had been so many times before, doing the wonderful work that the Government had given me to do – but thinking about it now, I could only remember that numb certainty that I was doing something terrible in order to survive. 

I looked at the material in the chair, and despite everything I felt genuinely happy to know that her last moments were ones of small comfort. It was an entirely unexpected and strange thing to be thinking. I served the Government, the State – and I would have slit her fucking throat if that had been what my Masters asked of me. But everything else being equal, what was the harm in sparing her feelings? Why not let her think that she was spending her final moments with a friend? 

“I’ll make sure of it,” I said, and started the procedure.

It was so fucking satisfying to see her go. What I knew to be a woman full of doubts and hesitation ceased to exist, and was replaced instead with an unquestioning tool of the state under full control of the chip in her brain. Her tears ran dry, and her nipples hardened, and her expression of fear and discomfort turned into one of benign acceptance. 

My screen threw up a notification. It was done.

“Julie?”

No response. My pussy throbbed with excitement.

“Drone Parker-41?”

“Yes, Controller?” she asked brightly.

I nodded, and ticked off a couple of points in my checklist. Voice calm, recognizes controller, no signs of struggle or distress, chip readback indicates >95% volition alignment.

“State your programming parameters.”

She smiled. “I am a high-cognition Government Drone, slave class five, awaiting assignment at Volition Management. My control chip is set to advanced pleasure and obedience protocol. Thought suppression in task-only mode, ready to be customized. I will obey now. Thank you for enslaving me, Madeline.”

I checked off the rest of the boxes, ran her through a set of calibration triggers, tested her orgasmic response, and told her to clean up after herself, which she eagerly did. Meanwhile, I filed her final citizen processing protocol and loaded up her assignment sheet. I had to do this one myself; Gabby and the other handlers were still a work-in-progress after all.

“Drone Parker, do you remember your training as a Line processing specialist, and do you feel prepared to carry out that task at the same level of proficiency as you were able to perform before your enslavement?”

“Yes, Controller” said the Drone that had been Julie, visibly excited and proud. “I do!"

I smiled. It felt hot to see her happy and eager like that, but I still double-checked that I hadn’t accidentally set her cognition or pleasure levels too high. 

The diagnostics came back nominal. Apparently work on the Line required a higher amount of self-awareness than I had guessed. I had expected her to be much more dulled than this. Fair enough; most of the tasks in processing were strictly regulated but there were always cases that required improvisation and judgement, and those were hard to get with a drone that wasn't able to have any of its own thoughts.

I looked up into her eager eyes and nodded appreciatively. There might be its own kind of satisfaction in knowing that a drone isn’t even able to think about anything other than obedience – but the beauty of a willing and eager slave was undeniable. I understood why my Master liked his assistants that way, even if slaves like us required more management and maintenance. 

Also, she was going to be much easier to work with.

“I’ve got a whole department to process, Drone Parker,” I said with a smile. “And you’re gonna help me.”

“Yes, of course!” she said. Her eyes looked almost fully awake as she smiled back at me. “I remember them. Thank you for letting me help you enslave them, Controller! Just tell me where to start, and I will serve!”

I shivered with accomplishment and arousal. It was just amazing to be part of this. Now that I was controlled and obedient, all of this had become so much better. This was my life now, and nothing could be more satisfying than this. No more secret treasonous thoughts, no more half-hearted acts of forced compliance, no! Anything to serve! Anything for my masters! Anything for the State!

“Officers, get this drone some clothes,” I said. “She still works here, and she’s got a lot to do.”

The black-clad agents left the room.

“Work never ends, does it?” I said with a smile. 

“No, Controller,” answered the drone dutifully. “But I’ll work as much as I safely can!” There was no recognition in her expression; too many autobiographical memories were wasted implant bandwidth after all. She didn't know who she had been. She might be able to think like her old self and usefully recognize the people she had known – but the part of her that remembered being Julie was just as gone as if I had turned her into a fully wiped class zero. 

Good. She’ll be a better tool this way.

Something about that thought tasted sour, but I quickly forgot all about it when my phone chimed and my master’s voice spoke to me through my earpiece.

“A little bird told me you’re done with the Parker material?”

I shot a glance at Helen and saw her smiling to herself, then turned back to the freshly enslaved material in front of me.

“Yes, she’s fully obedient now,” I said proudly, looking at the naked drone that had been my friend and colleague. “I’m going to let her do the next piece of processing to see if she can handle it, and if that works we’ll go parallel. Does that sound good?”

“Perfect. But you should also check for generational loss in whatever material she enslaves first.”

“Of course, Master! Do you want the protocols?”

“No, I’m sure you’ll do fine on your own. Won’t you, Drone?”

“YES!” I gasped. “Yes, Master! Thank you!” Fates, I loved him so fucking much. I was so fucking lucky to be his property.

“Okay. Hold on that, though. My original processing team has finally arrived. They’ll be down with you shortly, to coordinate with you and Helen. I have already slaved them to your control authority; you may use them as you will. I would have dealt with them myself, but I have a lovely new technical assistant to take care of that now. Make us proud!”

“I will!”

His voice cut out, and I breathed a sigh of contentment. It felt so good to know how to serve.

“Hello, by the way.” came Helen’s voice, and I turned to look at her. She had either finished her task or decided to take a break. The screen of her tablet was off.

I smiled at her. “Hello Helen!”

She raised her eyebrows. “Very clever. Never heard that one before,” she said with a sardonic smirk.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. So nice to meet you. Couldn’t have happened under nicer circumstances.”

Her smile grew wider. “It was quite the view,” she said. “Wanna fuck later?”

“Definitely.”

“Cool. Promise not to be jealous when one of us gets used and not the other?”

“Promise.”

“Cool. You’re really fucking hot and I’m glad that Master made you his drone.”

“Thank you! You’re really fucking hot and I’m glad you got to watch.”

“Anything to serve the State?”

“Anything at all,” I said. 

We smiled at each other. This was so good. I still couldn’t believe how fucking lucky I was.

Footsteps echoed out from the door behind me, and Helen got out of my office chair. “Time to get this Line back up and running,” she said. “You tell us who to enslave, and I’ll do work assignments? I mean, other than her. She’s all yours.”

She pointed at the naked woman that was still silently standing next to me. Drone Parker had neither spoken nor moved in the time I had been distracted with my master and Helen. She had simply been waiting for a command to obey.

I nodded to Helen. “Sounds good. Let’s get to work.”

And we did. 

There are days when you just know it’s all fucked. You wake up all wrong, your phone didn’t charge overnight, you spill your coffee on the way to work, and it only gets worse from there.

To the version of Madeline Banks that woke up that morning, this was exactly what happened. Today had been the day when everything she had ever secretly feared had come true. She had told herself that it wasn’t going to happen to her. That she was safe. That she didn’t have a choice.

But she had been wrong.

It did happen to her. She hadn’t been safe. And she did have a choice. 

And in the end, for the very first time in her life, she had finally been brave enough to commit to the right choice – and she had finally become the loyal and obedient tool of oppression that she had spent her entire life pretending not to be. 

At that moment I had crossed the line. Not any moral line, nor the metaphorical Line of the Processing department, but the line between denial and acceptance. Because, in the end, it made no difference whether I was controlled by a chip in my brain or by my own fear. It made no difference whether there would have been someone else to commit cruelties in my absence or not. It made no difference – because I had done it anyway. 

That was what my Master had taught me when he gave me that final choice: For all my whinging and moralizing and self-justifying, I might as well have always been a drone.

And now I finally was.