CW: mind control, conquest, bdsm stuff, sadism, unreliable narrator, dubcon, mindbreak, body modding, robotic amputation
The strike had been swift and devastating.
The capital ship popped into low orbit above the city with a rending tear, space itself bending and folding in a dance of complex numbers. She watched the way the warp jump, years ahead of her company's tech, had twisted light into beautiful fractals with her own eyes. Seconds later, the bombardment started.
Tungsten alloy projectiles the size of marbles struck critical logistics centers and defense networks at percentages of percentages of the speed of light. Inert lumps of metal became nuclear charges at such speed, blasting through atoms and releasing massive shockwaves of high energy particles and electromagnetic flame. Her base never stood the slightest chance of fighting back. It was calculated, efficient, and surgical.
She realized with horror that the targeting was precise enough that this act of aggression would likely be considered a legal acquisition of a competitor. Moments later remembering that her own offices, centered in the sprawling military complex, would be considered a fair target.
She covered her eyes in terror and ran into her safe room, knowing such devastating weapons would tear clear through miles of any shielding she tried to put between her and them, knowing it was futile, but desperately needing to do something to feel in control.
Her shelter, however, was spared. She did not know why. Flipping through emergency channels reached nobody but bored civilians waiting out the change in management. She did not imagine a hostile takeover so perfectly executed could have managed to miss terminating the planet's majority stakeholder by pure accident.
Her suspicions came true moments later, as her frantic attempts to reach backup were cut short by the sharp sonic claps of plasma weapons in the hallway. She dove to find the illegal emergency pistol her private security firms had hidden in the room, and had almost managed to disengage the safety mechanism when the combat dolls ripped the door off its bolts.
Her eyes had not yet adjusted to the light by the time she found herself pinned facedown to the floor by the things. As they dragged her out, she saw lawyer-drones copying thumbprints of dead contractors in the hall onto holographic consent waivers. The dolls spoke among themselves of being glad they had captured their target alive, bringing her to their Witch.
She was a corporate prisoner. Strapped down to a lab table, reshaping her helpless body with crude machinery in a way completely unnecessary for a healthy human, preparing her to be broken completely. She had ordered the same be done to her own rivals plenty of times. She knew what came next. Deep Reconditioning. It was not going to be pleasant.
It had been three days. She had grown accustomed to the strange feeling of heaviness, even on the lower gravity of the capital ship. She had always known her biological limbs were bound to her world, the result of a slightly weak left heart many of her family had. Circulatory pressures of G-forces were unkind to the extremities of those with this condition, and it was common for her cousins to return from interplanetary travel with mechanical limbs. She could count herself lucky to have gotten a set that was far ahead of her own corporation's technological achievements.
As the first of her species to be integrated to this degree, with all the challenges new frontiers bring, she felt glad to have a dedicated Witch-tech. What she had not expected was the degree to which the technician relished in maintenance of the augmentations to her body.
She did not like being touched, but the Witch at least made it as pleasant as possible. The woman in question was a tall humanoid with short horns and surprisingly gentle hands. She easily stood out, a rare sight among a ship whose crew were mostly humans or creepy, blank dolls. Those things still unsettled her. She had to remind herself she wasn't like them, even if her body contained some of the same technology.
She had not become a galactic envoy by choice. But she could not say she was not being taken care of. There were more silicon logic gates inside her body than in every computer on her entire home planet combined, and that complexity took getting used to. There was so much data to control. Sometimes time felt distorted.
Other times, memories were not stored correctly. Strange flashes of rooms she did not recognize, graphs she did not understand. These episodes would always mean one thing- Deep Reconditioning. It was not unpleasant, sitting in a comfortable chair with a display screen and a cable plugged into the port on her arm. Images flashed faster than her conscious mind could process, so she simply relaxed and let the information run into her mind. It was just calibration data, anyway.
She had gotten so used to being called just "Princess" her original name had been discarded by her internal memory management admin. The program, that the Witch-tech had named Gem, had been installed some time ago, when a malicious idea had caused her to have a streak of unhappy, unproductive rebellion.
The brilliant solution had been to use the pointless desire for control as a power source for a manager entity, and Gem was born. Gem was a quiet companion. She rarely intervened, mainly keeping things organized internally. It made the Dolls easier to understand. Princess did not wish for stillness like they did, but she could at least wrap her head around what they saw in it.
It had been.... A long time, since she last saw the place she once called home. The parts of her body that were still natural grown and not printed wouldn't age anyway thanks to the upgrades. There was, of course, still some external upkeep to do.
Deep Reconditioning. It was quite pleasant, lying on a bed, each of the connection ports on her body interfaced directly in a penetrative way a prudish type might call disgustingly erotic. She knew it was simply efficient, and her Witch did not leer at her naked body when presented- Not that Princess would mind the attention from her. The two had become very close, and she liked calling her Ma'am in her head when only Gem was listening.
Gem updated the count of days since the Doll had arrived on the ship. 00001010? Doll couldn't remember if that number was binary or decimal. Had she only been here ten days? The question stressed her, so Gem simply deleted the thought. It wasn't important.
Her companion now resided in a heart shaped holographic chip installed on the back of Doll's neck, a few inches below the high bandwidth data port in the back of her head. All signals that went into and out of the central nervous system passed through Gem, and she occasionally took full control of motor functions when needed.
She loved spending time with the other Dolls. Some of them were envious she got to spend so much time with the technician. Gem would usually speak with Doll's mouth, reminding them of their place. It made Doll feel good to have her special status reinforced.
Ma'am had taken to putting Doll in front of cameras, having her speak on a live data stream during her reprogramming sessions. Once, Doll had been told to recite a strange script about transferring legal ownership of some trust to some corporation or another, which was boring, but she liked obeying Ma'am and it didn't take too long. Ma'am had given her a little kiss on the forehead after that and said she was proud of Doll. It made her circulatory motors flutter.
Most of all, Doll loved Deep Reconditioning. Pressed into a small nook in the wall, brightly lit, her robotic limbs unscrewed and kept to the side. The box would extend pins into the ball joints to hold her in place, and the feeling of total immobilization was calming. Doll begged Ma'am to put her fingers inside her most intimate places while in this vulnerable position. Her Witch particularly enjoyed putting a particular part of her body into the high bandwidth port on the back of Doll's head. Doll wondered if the opening into its mind was the exact right size for this by coincidence or design.
The byte storing the number of days the doll had been on the ship was discarded long before the limit of 255 was reached. It no longer mattered to track such things. It had always been a doll. It knew nothing else, and It wanted nothing else.
It watched the dull twists of light as the ship punched through the mathematics of space with disinterested glass eyes. After a moment it disabled vision processing and turned its thoughts, such as it could be described to have any, inwards again. It wanted to be fucked by Ma'am. It did not need pretense to want to be programmed. It knew that was what it existed for. It liked when Ma'am would stick it in a tiny box to be brainwashed for days at a time. It craved Deep Reconditioning.
Gem dumped another load of pleasure stimulus into the doll's shattered mind to reinforce obedience. Gem did the real thinking. She told it what was real and what mattered. Doll existed for her Mistress to use. It knew it had already given away everything to its Witch, and relished in the joy that she kept it around anyway. It must be a very good doll.
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