Second Lieutenant Sarah Johnson walked uncertainly down the road at Nellis Air Force base. She had volunteered for a field trial -- part of getting the experience needed to advance through the ranks. The description said only that it had to do with gynecological issues in a field setting. That certainly seemed like one way to get an edge over her male colleagues. It also perhaps explained why she had been instructed to wear a dress for the occasion. She wondered when she would receive further instructions.
She became aware of a rhythmic whooshing noise behind her, and turned in time to see approaching a drone of a kind she'd never seen before. Perhaps it was a medical drone? The payload portion looked more or less the size of a motorcycle -- under a motorcycle-sized car port. She saw a tube much like a gun barrel point in her direction, and an instant later felt an impact in her stomach, followed by a sting. What the hell? She felt faint and crumpled to the ground, but she didn't lose consciousness. She tried to roll onto her side, but her muscles first felt very weak and then she realized they weren't responding at all. Panic rose in her, though she calmed herself by remembering this was a program of her own government -- the good guys.
She saw the drone land right over her, two mechanical legs visible from where she lay. The rotor engines cut out. Now she heard the whirring of servo motors and felt blunt things brushing against her. One robotic arm just below her field of vision inserted itself underneath her at chest height. It lifted and rolled her onto her back. Now she could see a whole array of six robot arms, and as she watched the arms whir into their positions, she felt a mechanical hand take each of her forearms and lift it out to the side and up, at full extension. Down below robotic hands were clumsily grabbing her dress and trying to lift it around her middle. They succeeded after a fashion, though the dress was still wedged under her bottom. Two other mechanical hands grabbed the inside of her thighs and lifted, also spreading them apart. A slender appendage with what looked like blunt-ended scissors nudged between her panties and upper thigh and moved from right to left. The sudden coolness told her that her vulva was now exposed. Below she was now in a reasonable approximation of the position she would assume for a pelvic exam. Her upper half resembled Jesus on the cross. She wondered at the high-tech waste of it all. Wasn't it a lot easier to just ask women to get into such a position?
Suddenly her perceptions of the situation changed. What emerged from the underside of the drone's body was still very obviously a robot, but it looked very much like a man's torso and legs, and where the head should be a convex dark screen. Between the legs emerged a very realistic looking robotic penis, an unnatural dark red, but pulsing brighter at the approximate rate of a man's heartbeat.
She felt a sharp prick in her left thigh where the robotic arm was holding her, followed by a burning that indicated an injection. Within a few seconds she could feel her skin tingling and a warmth in her muscles, and found she could move again.
"Wha ... uuhhhhh ... uuuuuu" came out as she tried to speak. A few seconds later it came out as she intended: "What the fuck is going on!" She struggled, but the robotic arms held her firmly. She could move her head and twist her upper torso from side to side or up and down. She could flex her knees, clutch her fists and flex her feet -- but that was about all.
Suddenly the convex screen came to life.
"Like this?" said a man's voice, as she saw the image of a man's ear.
"Yes -- you're on!" said a voice in the background.
"Oh, yeah!" said the face as it turned to face her. He was a young man with a couple days growth of beard.
"Shit! Experiment over! Let me go! I didn't volunteer for this! I want out right now!"
The convex screen with the man's head projected onto it looked remarkably like a head. The face looked at her -- sort of. The eyes seemed focused on a point inside her skull.
"Yeah, they told me you'd pretend to be upset. Let me warm you up -- here."
Down below she felt a blunt object cover the area of her clitoris, then start vibrating. The pleasure was intense -- but unnatural and obscene. She felt her entire crotch area engorge with the blood of arousal and felt her vagina lengthen. Then the vibration stopped.
Control of the torso now evidently shifted because it no longer moved like a robot -- it moved like a man. The man's head looked down, so the screen in front of her showed the top of his head. She looked down too.
"This sure is hot!" exclaimed the man as the robotic thighs descended onto hers, the red penis closing in on her opening.
"This is not funny!" she shouted, squirming with all her might.
But the penis made contact with her opening and pressed hard against her soft tissues. It forced its way inward, backing and thrusting, irregularly, chafing and uncomfortable. But as it dipped inside it made contact with her sexual wetness and spread it outward on the backstrokes. Soon the penetration was well lubricated and it no longer hurt. The penis was much warmer than any man's organ -- not uncomfortably hot by any means, just a very erotic heat -- and all the more horrible for that.
"Wow, it feels just right!" said the head, still looking down to where the red prong had disappeared. "When I hump it feels just like a pussy!"
"Right," said the voice in the background. "The prong on the drone picks up the sensations exactly and transmits them to the vagina in the sex doll."
"Shit!" said Sarah. "Get that out of me! Let me out of here!" She shook her head from side to side violently and strained against the robotic restraints that held her forearms and thighs.
"Good acting," said the head, which now turned to face her again. Down below, the penis pumped in and out with the unmistakable rhythm of a man fully aroused and fucking his woman. The face matched, eyes slightly unfocused, with a slack grin, breathing picking up with the exertion down below.
"Oh, unnnh, unnnh, ahhhhh, mmmmm, unnnnh," muttered the man. The blunt object against her clitoris began vibrating again.
"Oh yeah, oh yeah, that's it, mmmmm, oooooooohhh, nnnnnnh, nnnnnnnh, OOOOOOOHHHHHH!" said the man.
The head of the penis inside her swelled far more than any man's could, and suddenly became even warmer, though not painful. The tip swelled and subsided in what she sickeningly realized was the rhythm of pulses in a man's ejaculation. Meanwhile, the strip on her clitoris vibrated rapidly and her body had an unnaturally intense orgasm, horrible pure pleasure and release.
The penis slid out of her, the man's face with a stupid grin fading out and sound fading out just as he said, "You're one hot babe!
Sarah sighed. At least it was over!
But the screen came up again and there was a different man.
"Yeah, I can feel it," he said. "I'm working it now ... There she is!"
Sarah looked at the freckled, lopsided face, which looked below and watched the penis plunge up into her body again, this time without resistance.
"You asshole! Fuck head!" she shouted.
"Wow! That's really hot! Say that again!" said the man, fucking away in his own entirely human but slightly different rhythm. He was pressed in deep, taking small but rapid strokes.
Sarah said nothing, tears running down her cheeks.
His breathing got quicker, but he said nothing. She felt the tip inside her grow and become hot, and just as his face relaxed it began the same pulsing swelling and subsiding.
She became aware of real men in the real world, dressed in khaki, two on her left and two on her right, all doing slightly different things. One was kneeling with video camera focused down where the fucking was taking place, another was squatting and peering at her face intently, while on the other side one stood taking video of the entire scene, and the other just stood with arms folded.
The penis withdrew from her pussy, but seconds later the screen came to life again and another man forced the same organ up into her. She lay expressionless as man after man operated the robotic organ, all ending with that obscene heat and the pulsing, expanding tip.
She lost track around the sixth man, but it kept going. Only occasionally was one of those robotic orgasms administered to her.
She felt a sting in her thigh again, and a burning, and seconds later realized she couldn't move. Meanwhile, the screen went blank, the torso and attached erection quickly lifted away from her and the protective housing slid into place to hide both. The rotors started, all of the robotic arms released her and retracted, and with an energetic whirring, the drone lifted off and rapidly disappeared.
The men remained, watching her. Within a few seconds her motor function began returning, she tested her arms and legs, and slowly sat up, smoothing the dress down over her.
"So, Lieutenant Johnson, how do you feel?" asked the man who had been peering at her, clinical.
Sarah just sat there, staring into space.
It was a highly classified program. Before entering the room they had all been carefully checked for electronic devices of any kind. This was George Smith's big chance.
The general in charge of the meeting looked at George and said, "Our first speaker is Mr. Paul Wilson, a civilian consultant." He wasn't to be known by his real name, of course.
"Thank you for the opportunity to make this presentation today," he said to the general, then turned to face the others around the table. He was not at all surprised but also very glad that no token women had been appointed to this project.
"As you know, drone attacks on terrorist targets have generated negative publicity. The political pressure to sharply curtail their use is known to all of us. Aside from the reaction of the general public, there are also sound strategic reasons to look for more selective techniques with less collateral damage. Also, a serious limitation of the lethal drone strikes is that the targets are seen as martyrs and their martyrdom becomes an aid to recruitment. We kill one high-value target but on average generate 2.6 more recruits.
"The current proposal involves equipment known as GID, for 'gynecological insertion device'. It has as its proximate target women. Of course, the status of women is not high among the groups that are of greatest concern to us at this moment in history. However, the fate of women is still of great interest to men. Of even greater interest to us is how conflicts over women can give rise to profound rifts among men.
"The GID is a payload of the new drone airframe known to us by the codename Voldemort. The GID involves some of the latest robotic techniques. The basic protocol is as follows: A dart immobilizes and sedates the woman. The drone lands over her, and robotic arms deploy to position her limbs for sexual access and to restrain her and hold her in this position. She is also given a common memory disruption agent so that she will not even remember the approach of the drone. A selective cutting device removes obstacles posed by any garments. The GID then deploys a device which is inserted into the vagina. Semen can be ejected from the end of the device. Once the vaginal injection is complete, the restraints are removed and the Voldemort lifts off and flies away.
"The main purpose of the GID is to impregnate women. One of the lesser-known advances in our biochemistry unit is the ability to monitor female hormone levels from up to two klicks away -- a truly remarkable achievement. The expected mode of operation is to identify a female who is fertile, wait until she is alone, and fertilize her with the GID. Any questions?"
There were none.
The general rose and said, "Thank you, Mr. Wilson. Next I'd like to introduce Colonel Farnswood to explain our most exciting potential application of the GID."
"Thank you, General Gilchrist. As many of you know, Mullah Ali Maghukhti is of great interest to us. He is charismatic, fiercely anti-American, a politically astute coalition builder, and has the potential to become a new Osama Bin Laden. He is known for his moral uprightness and his respectful and fair dealings with all around him. He has just one wife.
"He also has a rather distinctive facial shape..." Here the Colonel produced an old-fashioned 8 x 10 color print and passed it around. "We were also able through our undercover assets to obtain a DNA sample from the Mullah. Using technology which may be unfamiliar to you, as it has rarely influenced our work before, we are able to grow spermatogenic tissue from arbitrary male DNA, which in turn produces sperm that are indistinguishable from those produced by the man himself.
"Our plan is to find the wives and daughters of prominent men who are ever in close geographic proximity to the Mullah, and impregnate them with the Mullah's sperm. We hope the resulting babies will resemble the Mullah to a sufficient degree to arouse suspicion, and if suspicious parties bring to bear sophisticated DNA testing, it will show that indeed he is the father. This could lead to an outright killing of the Mullah as a matter of honor, but should in any event seriously tarnish his reputation and cause deep schisms within a movement which has shown an unfortunate tendency in recent years to heal past divisions. The woman will have no memory of her experience. She will be aware of a torn undergarment, if she was wearing one, and quite likely an awareness that something entered her vagina. However, we doubt such girls or women are likely to share such intimate matters with men. Any questions?"
There were none.
The general said, "And now Mr. Wilson will give the final portion of the presentation."
"Thank you. This second part of my presentation deals with the enhanced mode of GID operation as a psychological warfare tool. In this case, we give only a short-acting immobilizing agent so that the woman is aware of what she is experiencing. The seminal injector robotic system resembles a man in many respects, including torso, thighs and penis. We are also able to project the head of a real man onto the convex imaging surface. At a nearby secure facility, one of our agents can be outfitted with a haptic sensor and stimulation array. As he interacts with a high tech sex doll, his motions will then control the thighs and pelvis of this humanoid robot which has mounted the female. In particular, every sensation a human penis would feel if it were in that position will be relayed by the robotic penis and reproduced with high fidelity in the artificial vagina to produce the same sensations in the controlling man's own penis. The woman will feel very much like a man is having intercourse with her, including his facial expressions and any vocalizations he makes. If he achieves orgasm, this can be conveyed to the robot and semen injected into the woman."
A few men had faint, knowing smiles. "A mechanical raper," murmured one.
"Now, of course we can link any number of stations to this device, so as soon as one man has finished, we can switch control to another station where another man will repeat the procedure. We can simulate with reasonable fidelity a gang rape experience.
"Hostile women who undergo this will likely experience distress. Pregnancy from such an experience will be additionally demoralizing. The hostile men will also become demoralized as they realize they are powerless to protect their wives and daughters.
"On the other hand, certain American agents will have the opportunity to provide semen, and some may find a morale boost in the opportunity for forced sexual relations with hostile women, especially if they father a child."
There were nods.
There were none.
George's personal opinion was that operation in that mode would be a disaster. Talk about a recruiting tool for hostiles! But the technology had been available, and the intelligence and military bureaucracy had spun out this misogynistic mode of operation. Large sums had flowed into the hands of well-placed contractors to meet the far more complicated mission requirements required for this mission. And once developed, the capability would be used.
They knew that the most important man in the room would never remove his dark glasses during the meeting. But he now spoke. "I think these sound like very promising plans. You are both to be congratulated, and I hope you will convey that to your teams as well."
Schwarzkopf Base was one of the three permanent American installations left in Afghanistan after the combat troops and advisers had been withdrawn.
One building was reserved for CIA operations. The base itself was naturally surrounded by a multi-layered security perimeter. The CIA building had its own additional security perimeter separating it from the rest of the base. Different kinds of drones came and went regularly from the modest hangar, including Voldemorts with nondescript payload modules.
The night's operation was under the command of Lieutenant Roger Lee. Working with him were three agents: Bill Jones, Fred McDonald, and Jeff Sanchez. All of the participants were in separate, individual rooms.
Bill studied his display carefully, a composite of the drone's multiple camera feeds along with some other readouts.
"Got one," he said to himself, but it went over the audio channel too.
"Whooop! Let's get her!" said his pal Fred.
"Nah," said the Lieutenant. "See, she's not fertile."
Bill had just seen that himself.
"In fact, she's bleeding," Fred added. "No way we're gonna soak a fine US tail hook in haji pussy blood. She's on the way to the outhouse, looks like. Changing tampons, maybe?"
"They got no tampons," said Bill.
"Yucky rags then," said Fred. "I don't care. She's too close to the house, too. Find us a target, Lieutenant! Giddy-up!" The devices were known as GIDs.
The drone whooshed softly through the night, leaving that village and zipping quietly over a ridge into the next valley. They'd investigated this valley the night before without any luck, and a couple times before that over the past month. Roger brought them to the furthest downstream of a series of small settlements.