Well, that's false advertisement. I suppose for their purposes it doesn't matter, but I take my mental freedom as a minor victory.
Then that small voice of doubt whispers to me.
It's afraid he might be right.
The back of my neck prickles and my head swims when I picture myself mindlessly looking up at our new master with adoration in my eyes. I can't keep the slight tremors from my hands and have to clasp them in front of me.
He pulls up a recording on his console. It's a slime with a human woman and I dart my eyes away. The terror on the woman's face from the last video has haunted my dreams during the few times I've been able to rest. I needed to know what I was up against if they raped me, but the information came at a cost.
I make myself loosen my white-knuckled grip and take a slow, deep breath.
I think back over the caution to not share us with friends. It explains the clean room barrier. They must not be able to reversewhatever they did, and it's protecting us from rape. On this ship at least. Exposure to genetic material must start the changes he mentioned and they can't make it a targeted thing.
The thought of even more unwanted changes to my body makes my chest ache.
A feminine scream and a honking laugh interrupts my thoughts. I need a better distraction from the disturbing sounds of the video.
I turn to Silver, where she stands at the end of the hall, wishing I could talk to her and sort this all out. I don't know why, but something about her face makes me think she would be a great listener. She is beautiful, with gleaming ebony skin that sets off the silver of her long, curly hair. It falls around her in wavy cascades of shimmering light.
Like all of us, it extends well down her back.
I assume her eyes will be some shade of silver to match her hair, or maybe the hint of green it shows at certain angles. It will be striking on her, but I'm sure she'll hate the change as much as I hate my own. Just like all the other women I'm in charge of will despise it.
No one should have their body modified without their consent.
Not that consent plays much of a role in all of this but knowing something logically and not railing against the unchangeable anyway is impossible. It's a human curse. Human women must be a sought-after commodity in the universe and so we are doubly cursed. It brought the slimes to us, after all.
Vultures don't descend unless there is something to gain from it.
I blink, my mind wanting to provide a better example but I shake my head and move on.
I should have paid more attention to all those crazy shows about aliens. Maybe they had some advice for moments like these. My mind's spinning out and I realize I need to get myself under control. Three breaths in and out as I stare at Silver's lovely face and I'm more settled, if not calm.
The sound of the video cuts off and I dart my eyes back to the control panel.
"Well, enough of that. I realize many of you have been hoping to see more of this special collection moving around. We'll get some of those exciting bits bouncing for you in just the right ways!"
This is not good.
Whenever they talk about something being exciting, it means punishment.
Their form of entertainment involves either telling me how they would rape me, how vicious their clients are, showing videos of any version of the former, or flooding my room with tear gas. A glance down to the vents along the floor rules that out.
A sound from behind me makes me spin around.
Emerald's chamber is open.
There is a beep and then she falls. I don't make it to her in time and she crashes to the ground. Then I'm down with her, coughing and trying to wipe the streaming tears from my face so I can see her. She's still prone and is trying to expel the gas from her lungs.
Thankfully, the vent system whirs to life and I can breathe again and also make out the slime's words.
"Aren't they so delightfully powerless?"
My eyes clear enough to see her shaking form. She's looking around in shock as his grating voice breaks in again.
"Just imagine them bent over like that for your own purposes."
And with that, she's screaming. I can't blame her, but I also know where that path leads so I rush forward, put my hands on her shoulders to keep her in place, and put my mouth right next to her ear. "They won't stop pumping gas in here until you stop screaming. Just . . ."
