Chapter 1: I failed
Caution: This Science Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, ft/ft, Fa/ft, boy, gi, Rape, Mind Control, Lesbian, TransGender, Science Fiction, Extra Sensory Perception, Space, Furry, non-anthro, Spanking, Humiliation, Violent, Transformation, Nudism, Military, .
Desc: Science Fiction Story: Chapter 1: I failed - Nolan was the Special Security Officer aboard the HoChaRa Cosmic Armada Intruder Futile Gesture--but now he is a captive of the Paxlyn Domain.
They let me regain consciousness. It looked like a hospital. The place had to be a prison. I am a dangerous enemy alien, after all. They caught me sneaking into their system and snooping where I wasn't welcome.
"Nolan, you're going home," someone announced as my eyelids fluttered open. The world was too bright and very fuzzy, a result of having my eyes shut for a long time—not that much different from suspended animation, really. Something else happened to me. "I'm your new mommy."
"That seems congruent," I muttered, my voice raspy from disuse—or perhaps from screaming my head off under intense interrogation. Can't call it 'torture' because only the enemy does that. "When I return to base they are going to put me on trial, I'm going to confess my guilt, and then I will be slowly and painfully executed for my treason. Why assign someone to nurture me?"
"Oh you silly!" the voice said. "You are going to my home. You'll have a mother and me and three sisters to take care of you until you're ready to become an adult again."
That made absolutely no sense to me, but I didn't argue. No point. I welcomed death. The horrifying alternative was a long, slow, humiliating death. I didn't know what was really going on, and I wouldn't have believed the incredible truth.
Something brought me upright and then my feet touched the floor. Someone took my right hand and someone took my left and I was wobbly but standing. Three people. The ones left and right were about my size and weight. Someone considerably larger was behind me, hands around my waist as I got my land legs back.
"Easy, Nolan," the person behind me said. "You have to learn to walk all over again."
"It won't take so long this time," the person on the right said.
I was a large man, 100 kilos and 2 meters. The person behind me was perhaps 50% larger. Was I in a sim? I could buy the two flanking me. The hard physics of the cube square law made it unlikely that the person behind me was three meters tall and 150 kilos. See how my mind works? Anyway, we stopped at the end of a corridor. Some sort of light swept over me.
CITIZEN BECKY AND CITIZEN BABS MOVE FORWARD, a voice said. The wall in front of us opened up and the two moved forward. As the door slid shut I realized that they were naked. So was I. They had red hair and something about their butts was sexy. When my penis went stiff, I realized that I was also naked. This sim was just getting better and better.
CITIZEN NOLAN MOVE FORWARD the voice seemed to be inside my head. The wall opened up again and I walked forward. I felt the wall seal behind me and the wall in front opened up again. CITIZEN NOLAN MOVE FORWARD. Becky and Babs were in front of me. I complied, turned to watch the wall. It seemed to iris shut. When the wall opened again, much like one of the wipes from an old vid, there was a large, well-proportioned nude woman with brown hair standing in front of me.
"Get in," the woman pointed behind me.
When I turned around, I felt really stupid. I wasn't myself. I hadn't noticed the vehicle. The two others were sitting on one side. I got in, and the large woman got in behind me—and the vehicle closed clam shell doors behind us. The vehicle was roomy and I didn't notice movement. Good inertial compensation makes it nearly impossible to detect if the vehicle is in motion.
"My name is Mandy," the woman told me. "Sit on my lap. I'm your mommy. You are going to grow up all over again as a citizen. Babs and Becky are your sisters and they will grow up with you."
"Ma'am," I asked, "am I under sedation? I feel detached."
"Mild," Mommy Mandy told me as I sat on her lap. "You are in for a series of shocks. The meds will cushion the blows. I told you that you were going to grow up all over again. Right now you are a little boy."
My philosophy in sims is to treat them as reality—as fully-instrumented reality. The Service frequently tests us operatives. Little boy, eh? Okay, I would play along. Mommy Mandy, the woman, explained that a machine would regress people back to childhood.
"Never mind the details," she explained. "Everybody becomes a little girl again—except you didn't. The machine didn't make you a girl, refused to make you a girl. You are supposed to grow up as a boy. Look at your hand."
There was a silver mark on the backs of both hands, a trident or a Saguaro cactus or a three-candle holder—or perhaps it was the letter Psi. The girls showed me their hands—they had what appeared to be a snake wrapped around a winged staff. Mommy Mandy didn't have anything on the backs of her hands. Only 'children' had marks—because even though 'children' were Citizens, they had limited rights.
"Now I don't want you harming yourself, Nolan," Mommy Mandy commanded. "You are a wonderful person. The Council determined that you were innocent of wrong-doing, but you need to learn our ways."
"What of the rest of the crew?" I asked.
"They're criminals," Mommy Mandy explained. "You have been conditioned. You were a puppet. Your free will was compromised."
"Criminals," I mused. "I can't claim that I'm fond of them, ma'am--"
"The honorific is 'mum, ' and you'll have to get rid of the 'sir, ' you males are a minority here," Mommy Mandy enlightened me. "There is only one male for every thousand females. Female is the norm here."
Something clicked in my foggy brain,
"You mentioned a machine," I said. "How do you handle criminals here?"
"We regress them and they grow up again under close supervision," Mommy Mandy declared. "All the rest of your crew are little girls. You can't see them right now. It isn't good for you. You might hurt them."
"May I record an apology?" I asked. "My priority duty was preventing their capture."
The three females exhibited distress when I explained my priority duty, my secret mission aboard the Futility-class Intruder, the Futile Gesture, one of thirteen stealth starships designed to sneek into a system and harvest its secrets. I was designated Navigator and Second Officer, third out of eight men in the crew. Futility-class Intruders could have crews as large as 16 or as small as 3; for this mission there were 8 of us and the ship's mascot, Silvia. One crew position was Special Security Officer—and there could be several of us on board. I was there to prevent the ship and crew from being captured.
"I detected the surveillance," I said, "but couldn't prove it to Captain Barnes or First Officer Rogers, so we continued collecting information. I programmed the Futile Gesture for rapid hyperspace insertion—even if we were within a gravity well and would suffer a navigation error, it was an acceptable risk to avoid capture. I began evasion and locked down our signature so that we were invisible—but your people saw us and trapped us."
We force professionals share the nightmare of nothing working. I lived the nightmare. The hyperspace drive shut down. The power supply went off-line, and with it the artificial gravity and inertial compensation. We couldn't maneuver. We became visible to the naked eye. It got worse—the automatic computer memory dump wouldn't work without power. I tried the self-destruct, and even Captain Barnes required a second officer to destroy the Futile Gesture: the First Officer or the Engineer or myself. Or I could authorize automatic self-destruct using an expedient procedure. Normal self-destruct would give a five minute count-down, long enough to get in the launch and escape the resulting explosion. My special code would immediately implode the Futile Gesture.
"That failed," I continued my lecture. "and I was forced to do manual self-destruct. Priority was the computer core. I don't remember reaching it. I failed. My mission encompassed termination of the crew. I want to apologize to them. When HoChaRa sends the Cosmic Armada, we eight have special traitor status. That means we will be punished as an example and warning to the rest of HoChaRa. Your interrogation was very thorough. You wrung everything you asked for out of us."
"How do you know?" the girls were twins and I couldn't tell Babs from Becky. It was one of them.
"Nolan is a lucid dreamer," Mommy Mandy explained. "He remembers his dreams. Shutting his awareness off is difficult."
At the moment I had the awareness of a rock!
"You want to apologize for them being alive?" the other girl was appalled. I guess my function is appalling. I am appalling. I nodded.
"He was trained to kill himself," Mommy Mandy hugged me. "Nolan would be called 'assassin, ' and he was very good. We had trouble keeping him alive. Nolan, suck my breast, baby."
Perhaps it was a post-hypnotic command, or perhaps Mommy Mandy just triggered my nursing reflex. I took one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked. She sighed, and then she told them about my last two suicide sims. I thought them real at the time. I was rated acceptable—in simulations I 'successfully' killed myself and my ship mates. I would do so upon coded command from Cosmic Armada Admiralty or when specific events occurred. Captain Barnes wasn't trusted to perform the Futile Gesture's self-destruction procedures when he had to. My responding to conditioning had been tested repeatedly in sims. Oh, I did know I was in a sim, but still, when the chips were down I tried to kill as I had been trained to do. There was no thinking it over—I just acted. As Mommy Mandy said, when it was time for my suicide mission I had no free will.
I was zoned out, the taste of human milk on my tongue. HoChaRa wasn't the only civilization that practiced mind control, obviously. Even dozing off I was aware of the three others talking. Surprisingly, in my semi-conscious state I was aware of vehicle motion relative to our origin in spite of the inertial compensator. We were moving rapidly—not quite as fast as a star ship in orbit, but several hundred kilometers per hour—and slowing rapidly. We were in some sort of tunnel, propelled by MagLev, and the tunnel was in a vacuum. Elegant.
"Wake up, sleepy head," Mommy Mandy commanded. "Time to meet the rest of the family."
We left the vehicle station and got on some sort of moving sidewalk. I noticed that the smaller people were all nude. Some of the big people wore clothing. Babs on one side and Becky on the other helped me stand up, stay up. I hate being sedated. Makes me feel tired. I don't intoxicate myself because I don't like that buzzed feeling. It was a short eternity—a short time covering perhaps three kilometers on the moving sidewalk and another forty meters walking to my new home—but it felt like forever because the sedation kept me in NOW rather than letting my mind wander. I had to concentrate on each step. Like Mommy Mandy and the twins said, I had to learn to walk again—new body?
"We're home!" Mommy Mandy announced.
The first person to greet us was Princess Silvia, former mascot of the Futile Gesture. I was the only one to address her as "princess." The rest of the crew regarded the small mammal as a dumb beast, but she (I think Silvia was 'she') was forty kilos of furry intellect. Silvia knocked me down and crawled all over me—I was now her size! Silvia trilled and purred, seeming to scold the others while trying to comfort me.
"I'm okay, Princess," I stroked her fur just above the tail, that sweet spot all mammals seem to have just above the hips. "They promised to take good care of me. How did you recognize me?"
"You talk to her?" the speaker was a blonde woman a bit shorter and more slender than Mommy Mandy. Like me, she was naked.
"Introduce yourself, Fawn," a sixth person ordered.
"I'm Fawn," the blonde said. "That is Mother Regina."
Explaining that Silvia was an intelligent person, just like the rest of us, may have been wasted effort. Or not. We humans tend to be bigots and if an alien doesn't look like us, we tend to regard the alien as sub-human. Mother Regina was stacked—I don't know how else to put it—with shoulder-length silver hair. She looked ageless. I got an eyeful because she was also naked. I guessed that nudity was normal in this civilization, and made a note to ask later. There was so much to learn!
Starting with house rules. I was the low person on the totem pole. I took that to mean that the former ship's mascot, Princess Silvia, could give me orders. Chain of command could be established later.
"He wants to record an apology, Mum," Mommy Mandy told Mother Regina. "He wants to apologize to the rest of the crew for failing to kill them."
Silvia scolded me, then licked my face to show that she forgave me. I loved that little alien as if she were my daughter. The Service discourages permanent personal relationships—nothing may stand in the way of absolute loyalty to the Service. Silvia was below the radar.
"Later," Mother Regina said. "There's a lot you need to know, first. The other seven are okay."
"Thank you for letting Silvia stay with us, Mum," I said. "How did you know?"
"We asked you," Mother Regina explained. "What do you remember about being questioned?"
"A lot," I admitted. "I know that I wasn't able to resist, that everything your people asked I gave up. I witnessed the others' interrogation, too."
"You couldn't have!" Fawn exclaimed.
"Oh, yes he could have," Mommy Mandy said. "It's one reason that he is not classified as a criminal—unlike the rest of the crew."
"Mommy Mandy," I asked, "is Silvia a citizen, too?"
"No, she's just a pet." Silvia growled in disapproval. "On the other hand, we don't spank pets, only children."
"Spank?" I asked.
"Yes," Mother Regina said. "Here in Paxlyn Domain, we don't spare the rod. You are going to be an exception. You won't be spanked as punishment. That would be counter-productive with you because of your mental conditioning. You WILL be spanked, but only so that you know what it feels like. You'll be spanking Babs and Becky regularly—and sometimes you'll spank Fawn."
"Silvia, the good news is I won't be spanking you," I said. "I'm going to use whatever resources I can to learn your language. I get impressions--"
"You still believe Silvia is more than an animal?" Mother Regina asked.
"Yes, Mum," I replied. "She was a stowaway. Silvia understands me better than I understand her."
Silvia took my face between her paws and pressed her nose against mine, staring into my eyes. Suddenly I knew that Silvia's vocalizations were mere expressions of emotions—that speech wasn't used by her people for communicating ideas. Suddenly I realized how to talk with Silvia--
"First rule is that this is a naked household," Mother Regina said. "Normally someone of my status would be clothed in public. I chose to give up clothes for you, Nolan. We're going to be permanently naked unless we need clothing for protection. Paxlyn Domain has perfect environmental control, so except for space suits, nobody in this family will wear anything except jewelry and body paint. We're doing it for you, Nolan. You need that to grow up as a man."
I saw a long journey ahead of me.