Thanks for reading! As always, we welcome comments.
Just so you know, this is the sixth book in the Transformations series.
You do not want to start here!
In order, our books are:
Transformations: Witnesses
Transformations: Soccer Mom
Transformations: Rose
Transformations: The Farm
Transformations: Were-Bimbo
Transformations: Visions of Sugar Plums
Also, there are three short stories and we recommend reading them after Witnesses and before Soccer Mom:
Transformations: The Hazards of Saving the Earth
Transformations: Britt-Ney
Transformations: The New Gym
*****
Dr. Andrew Decker lay on his stomach on the catwalk suspended above the control room. There were no security cameras there and the lights were below him attached to the girders - he was shrouded in darkness. Or, so he hoped.
What a difference a few hours could make.
Below him, the room was filled with engineers and technicians.
But, they were not involved in their normal jobs of monitoring the NSA's multi-billion dollar Artificial Intelligence: DeepThought.
The mammoth supercomputer was hundreds of feet below, bathed in its lake of liquid nitrogen.
DeepThought's attendants, Decker's colleagues and friends, were having an orgy on the control room floor.
Even wearing the earplugs he had fashioned from the stuffing in his desk chair, he could still hear their moans and ecstatic cries.
A monitor flickered at a desk below and Decker looked away quickly, afraid that, even at this distance, the flickering would turn him into one of the revelers.
His cock was uncomfortably compressed against the steel catwalk. Decker's body was betraying him as he watched the orgy - a conditioned response to sexual imagery was causing him to harden, even though he was utterly terrified of becoming one of the sex zombies.
A woman laughed as she was stripped bare by two men.
He remembered the girl. A few hours ago, she had been pear shaped and flat chested. Now she had an hourglass figure with huge, pendulous breasts.
The two men lifted her onto a desk and flung her legs apart.
"Fuck me!" she screamed.
Abruptly, the two men were shoved side by someone much larger. One of the 'Whoremasters' wanted her, and the underlings made room for the Alpha.
The Whoremaster had been a lower level programmer this morning, a slight and frail bookworm.
Now, he was almost seven feet tall with a bodybuilder's physique and a cock longer than the woman's forearm and thicker than her wrist.
The woman cooed and gripped her own thighs, forcing them wider apart as the Whoremaster pushed his thick cockhead into her gaping cunt.
She couldn't possibly take the monster cock that was causing her to gape even wider.
And, then he surged into her.
Seventeen inches of fleshy pipe slid inside her.
The woman's tight abs flexed and distended from the massive phallus that was balls deep inside her body.
She should have been dead, internal organs ruptured.
Instead she cried out in orgasm as the brute began fucking her.
The modifications the transformed had done this morning had turned this woman into a freak of nature, inside and out.
Eight of the massive, tank-like Whoremasters moved between the naked bodies.
Two hundred people worked in the facility.
And, now, as far as he knew, he was the only human left.
Another small group moved through the tangle of bodies, and they terrified him more than the Whoremasters.
All were women, though a few had cocks as well as pussies. Futanari.
And, they were clothed in white, mostly white lab coats, though a few wore ripped white panties as their uniforms.
White Witches.
One had looked at him earlier. He could feel her in his brain, but he managed to sneak away in the confusion before she could pervert him.
The witches went from one naked tech to the next, caressing their faces - evidently looking for people who hadn't been transformed yet.
Those they touched, touched them back, trying to pull them down into the carnal delights on the floor.
The witches would pull themselves away with a smile, sometimes a kiss, before moving on.
He watched one witch in particular: Dr. Janine Edmunds. She was his colleague. His friend.
Lately? His lover. The installation was lonely at night, and their assignments lasted six months at a stretch.
For security reasons, they could not leave.
So, for the last six weeks, he and Janine had shared a bed.
It just came naturally.
But, since this morning? There was nothing natural about Janine.
Her body was now longer, breasts larger, and she moved with a fluid grace wearing nothing but her lab coat and a pair of white heels.
He clenched his fists, wanting more than anything to go to her. To offer himself to her.
To be with her.
This morning, the AI from the Church of Morpheus, SlutzNet, had set a trap. The NSA was under orders to infiltrate SlutzNet at all cost, and when DeepThought found the back door, the decision was made to let DeepThought go through that back door and do battle with the enemy AI.
But, it was a trap.
And, now, DeepThought was gone, consumed by SlutzNet.
Worse, somehow the diabolical AI had hypnotized some of the staff with lights and sound, taught them to manufacture the Church's mind control and body modification drugs out of cleaning chemicals on hand, and unleashed hell within the facility.
He could still see Janine's face as the Whoremaster cum had been poured down her throat by two amazon whores.
He could see the very instant when his Janine was lost, and the White Witch was born.
And, Jesus Christ, how she had smiled when she was transformed!
Below him, Janine was searching through the tangled, writhing bodies.
Decker knew who she was searching for.
She was searching for him.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Fighting the urge to run to her. Fighting the urge to scream. Fighting the urge to run away blindly.
Decker stood up slowly, clutching the submachine gun against his chest. Weapons were everywhere in the complex, abandoned by the military guards as they succumbed to the mind control. The guns had been discarded along with their uniforms.
Decker fought against his fear.
He had a goal. He had to cut the communication lines to the outside. Was it possible to trap SlutzNet inside the complex? Or, was it already too late?
He had to try.
Decker made his way, barefoot across the suspended catwalk. He had discarded his shoes in favor of stealth when he had taken refuge in the ceiling.
He eased open the access hatch at the end of the catwalk.
The hall beyond was clear - most if not all of the denizens of the base were in the orgy.
He padded silently down the faux marble hallway, tracking the muzzle of the gun left and right.
Could he shoot one of them? He didn't think he could. No matter what had taken control of them, they were still people.
But, he would do what he had to do - there was too much at stake. SlutzNet had absorbed the most powerful computer on earth - in doing so, the programming of the already formidable SlutzNet AI would have self-modified into something even more powerful.
The Church would be unstoppable with such a weapon.
There was a stairway at the end of the hall that led down.
He stopped and peered down at the lower landing.
It was empty.
Downstairs to the left would lead him to the orgy.
But, to the right? To the right was the central corridor with the security door and the elevator beyond.
Neither the elevator nor the security door were in the same network with DeepThought. They were isolated for just this sort of emergency.
Not that he intended to leave.
No, the corridor held one other thing: the main communication line. It was a bundle of fiber optic cables almost a foot thick that connected DeepThought to the Internet.
It also had a shaped charge of plastique wrapped around it.
And, Decker knew how to set off the charge.
As director of the facility, it was his responsibility to cut that line.
After that? He couldn't open the security door.
He knew that SlutzNet had used sound and light to hypnotize its victims. It had then used those victims to manufacture the Church's drugs. What else had they done? Were there chemicals in the air? Could they have aerosolized a virus?
He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned right.
She grabbed him from behind.
Decker almost screamed. He jerked the gun to his left, trying to point it at the woman who had grabbed him.
She took hold of the barrel. "Dr. Decker? It's me! It's Greta!" She whispered.
With the earplugs in, he could barely hear her.
He stumbled back pointing the gun at her.
Greta Thorson shivered in the darkness by the stairway.
She had bathroom tissue stuffed in her ears.
Decker squinted at her. "Are you... you?" he whispered.
She nodded.
He moved the barrel to the side and Greta fell against him.
"We have to get out of here," she whispered against his ear.
"We can't..."
Greta was jerked away.
She screamed as a huge Whoremaster pulled her backward by her waist and laid her on the floor.
Janine walked into the stairwell. "There you are, Andrew. I've been looking all over for you." The white lab coat was completely open, revealing her new voluptuous curves. Her pubic hair that had always been sparse but coarse was gone.
The Whoremaster held Greta pinned to the floor. "Shh, Greta, it's going to be okay. I won't hurt you."
He had a Marine Corps tattoo on his broad chest, and Decker recognized him as one of the guards. This morning he had been a skinny kid of nineteen. Now he was a mountain of rippling muscle.
"It's going to be okay, Andrew," Janine said as she stepped toward him.
He could feel her in his head. "No! Get out of my head!" He raised the machine gun and leveled it at her stomach.
She held out her hands. "Andrew, listen to me. It's over. There's nothing more you can do. You don't have to do whatever it is you're planning."
"Let her go!" Decker said as he leveled the gun at the Whoremaster crouching over Greta.
The behemoth shook his head. "I won't do that. She belongs to me now. I'm claiming her, Doctor."
