Ghost In The Machine Ch 14

Author's Notes:

Thanks to my lady love for making Richard's struggle even harder, and of course to my faithful editor bikoukumori, for a lightning-fast edit job before year's end.

This chapter contains some graphic violence, but only adults (or the impersonation of adults) are having fun here, sort of.

#14 Resistance

When I entered the lobby of Mindlink Central, it was eerily empty. At any given time, usually at least a few dozen people were milling about, either browsing our merchandise in the small info kiosks placed around the lobby or asking to see this or that person. Not to mention all our employees, bustling from one end of the building to the next. But today, I could only see three people apart from Wilkes and myself. A security guard, saluting snappily as I entered; a receptionist, busy with looking good behind her desk and a man in a long, black coat, waiting for an elevator. I joined him and frowned. He didn't have the usual business attire and his long, sleek black hair was utterly out of place here. Even in somewhat less formal positions like system admins Mindlink had a pretty strict dress code and his whole getup violated it front to back.

"Excuse me, where are you headed," I asked him. He turned, dark green eyes boring into mine.

"None of your business... yet," he purred. Before I could retort, an elevator arrived, which he entered. I shook my head. Who was that guy? I made a mental note to have security investigate him, then I took the next elevator. Instead of hitting one of the buttons, I pulled out a swipe card and fed it into a slot underneath the panel. Obediently, the elevator sped upwards, ignoring all calls in between, until it stopped on the penthouse floor where my department's office suite was located. With a jolly 'ping,' the doors opened and I strode into the reception area.

"Ah, Mister Squier, good morning," Gloria chirped, half-rising from behind her desk. The smell of freshly made coffee hung in the air.

"Anything important in my schedule today," I asked her, leaning against the desk. She sank back into her chair, an inviting smile on her gorgeous lips, making sure I got a good look at her breasts, straining the fabric of her blouse.

"Let me check. Why don't you help yourself to some coffee and I'll give you a heads-up once you've settled in?"

I strolled into the small kitchenette off the main reception area and helped myself to a nice pot of Gloria's secret weapon. That stuff was strong enough to bring the dead back to life and I really liked a steaming mug to kick off the day. Taking a croissant as well, I entered my office and sank into my chair. Nibbling on my snack, I turned around and looked at the Los Angeles skyline, what little was there to see through an ungodly amount of smog. Strange. I couldn't quite remember the drive here and I would certainly remember the news talking about such a massive smog cloud as well. But before I could ponder the matter further, I heard Gloria's steps moving into the office, stopping long enough to close the double doors. I swivelled my chair around and froze in mid-move. She wore nothing, apart from her high heels and a seductive smile, carrying a tablet computer in one hand.

"Your 9 o'clock sharp appointment has just arrived, sir," she happily said, flicking a lock of her brown hair behind an ear.

"That's quite the brazen move, Gloria," I grumbled. Usually, she was way more secretive about her ...motivation techniques. But I felt a distinct stirring in my loins nonetheless. Gloria placed her tablet onto my desk before moving around it and going to her knees next of me, turning the chair so I was facing her. With deft hands, she undid my belt, button and fly and had my hardening dick out in a flash.

"Just tell me to stop and I will," she whispered, her gentle fingers caressing up and down my shaft. I didn't even feel the urge to turn on my Iron Stallion, her gentle fingers and hot breath were more than enough to turn me on. Without warning, she engulfed my tip with her lips and began to flutter her tongue against me. I leaned my head back and relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages. Gloria cooed around my by now rock-hard erection before giving it a good suck. I sighed happily as she intensified her ministrations, taking more and more of me into her mouth, making sloppy, wet sounds in the process. Suddenly, she stopped, letting me spring free with a lewd popping noise.

"You know, you could show me how you like it best, sir," she suggested, taking my hand and placing it on her hair. Grinning, I dug my fingers into it, caressing her scalp with my fingertips. She moaned hungrily as her lips closed around me once again. Her hands dug into my trousers and fondled my balls, her painted fingernails teasingly scraping the sensitive skin.

With a growl, I thrust upwards, feeling my head nipping her throat. Gloria made an encouraging sound, inviting me to take advantage of her. Leaving her enough time for a last gulp of air, I did just that, sliding my tip deeper into her hot mouth and into her throat, pushing her head down as well. She gurgled wetly and her hand kneaded my balls, egging me on. I began to fuck her throat, slowly, enjoying every second of it. It felt unbelievably good, even better than with Violet. I had goosebumps all over. Gloria dug her fingers into my thighs to keep her balance while I used both of my hands to move her head, fucking her mouth onto my pole a few more times before letting her come up for air.

With streaming eyes and a mad grin, she wiped her mouth and I froze. Looking up from between my thighs, chin gleaming with saliva and precum, was my wife's face! While I watched in dumbfounded surprise, the head continued to morph, until it was Saphire's copper-haired, porcelain-doll face on Gloria's tanned, voluptuous body. My insides churned in revulsion. Saphire's old, hard eyes lasered into mine as she slowly got to her feet, her face distorted into a mask of utter hatred.

"I suffered through a three-month bodysculpt, to appeal to your perverted tastes, and this is what I get? You let your whore of a secretary suck you off? What else does she do for you?" Hissing in fury, she turned around, bent over my desk and spread her buttcheeks with both hands. Twisting her neck, she snarled at me.

"Come on, while you're still hard, why not fuck her up the shitter as well?"

Speechless, I stared at the being which had been my horny secretary just a few moments ago.

"Now what? Not man enough to follow a simple suggestion? Believe me, Richard, you're missing out on the greatest fuck of your miserable existence!" From out of nowhere, a long, glistening dildo appeared in her hand. With an impossibly long tongue, Saphire licked it until it was slippery with her saliva and placed it at her butthole.

"If you won't do it then I'll have to look for my own amusement. I hope you don't mind," she snarled as she drove the long, flexible toy home. I had enough. Tucking my deflated meat back into my trousers, I rose and fled, cold sweat pouring down my spine. Behind me, the Gloria/Saphire hybrid was noisily doing herself with her toy. I pushed open the doors to the reception area and nearly fell over Gloria's dress, carelessly tossed to the floor. Next to the reception desk, the black-haired man was waiting, a half-smile twisting his lips.

"What are you lookin' at," I snapped his way.

"Nice view," he smirked, pointing past me. The ...thing on my desk was making inhuman noises, wet, squelchy, while both hands were busy ravaging her ass and pussy.

I rushed past him. I needed to see Violet. Maybe she was able to sort this out.

***

Tearing down the safeguards built into the Mindlink implant, shielding Richard Squier's brain fron outside manipulation was pathetically easy. They were designed by humans, after all, and meant to withstand anything a human mind could come up with. But when faced with the combined computing power of almost a quarter of North America's high-end servers, they caved like wet paper tissues shot at with a .50 caliber sniper shell. Nero felt excitement tear through his customary restlessness. Now that he was wide open, all that remained was to break Richard Squier, to erase all traces of his personality, to basically format his brain, so that Nero could take over. Maybe with a human agent, his search for answers could be expedited. And even if not, he would have a new toy, and there was nothing more elating than the feeling of having something new to play with.

Nero took a long look at the diagnostic readouts surrounding him. That little play with memory fragments had worked much better than anticipated. It seemed Richard Squier had a deep-seated disgust towards his wife. Maybe that could be used as a lever, to shatter his mind completely? Time to try out a new iteration of this particular scenario.

***

Something wasn't right. I knew every nook and cranny on this floor by heart but no matter where I turned, I faced impossibly long corridors with doors spaced evenly on the sides. Was I dreaming? If so, it was one hell of a nightmare, that's for sure. I needed to find Violet. Every fiber in my being screamed for her gentle touch, for her calming presence. Again, I turned at the intersection. Behind me, I could faintly hear the ...thing making noises, as if she were the centerpiece of a frenzied orgy. No way I was going back there. I was sick and tired of my wife in the real world already and having her invade my dreams was too much. Picking a corridor at random, I pulled open the first door on the right.

A japanese-style classroom awaited me. As one, twenty girls rose, opened their blouses and said "Good morning, sensei," proudly displaying their perky breasts. Shaking my head irritably, I slammed the door closed. First my wife, then a clip from my favourite virtual J-porn? Normally, I'd love to be fawned over by innocent Japanese schoolgirls but with the echoing noises of the ...thing still reverberating through the halls, my arousal was at an all-time low.

I stormed down the corridor, pulling open doors at random. This one showed me the inside of our Rolls Royce Silver Wraith, with Saphire flat on her back on the rear bench. Wilkes, our driver, was furiously fucking her, his peaked cap almost falling off his head. Saphire's eyes met mine.

"Told you I'd find my own entertainment. Oh, deeper, Wilkes, fuck me har-"

No! I didn't want to see this! I slammed the door shut, stumbling backwards, until the cool faux stone plating of the corridor wall was at my back. My pulse was hammering in my temples and I felt cold sweat drizzle into the collar of my shirt. Where was Violet's office? Even looking at the plaques next to the doors didn't help. For some reason, I couldn't decipher the blurry script on them. Breathing heavily, I stopped. Again, an intersection. Now, even the noises coming from my office had stopped. Thankfully. But I was completely lost. And I was alone. For some irrational reason, that scared me more than anything.

I needed to find some answers. Where was I? Was this a dream? And how could I wake up? I didn't want to see any more scenes involving my wife!

***

This was working out much better than anticipated. Richard Squier's subconscious was filled to bursting with repressed guilt and loathing, emotions which Nero understood all too well. Using the same stimulus routines used in VR porn, he began to feed Richard Squier more and more of his own repressed subconscious. It wouldn't take long until he was worn down. And there was something else, a little intriguing detail Nero had discovered. Richard Squier's implant had a wireless communication device attached to it. Finding out the corresponding contact data took but a fraction of a second. With this device, Nero wouldn't have to completely program a new set of behaviour patterns into Richard Squier's brain, he could remotely feed him instructions, much like the programmers in his birth node had done. This kind of irony amused Nero tremendously. Maybe he should give Richard Squier a little reprieve before he formatted his brain completely. Or maybe not. It was just too much fun to see his EEG strobe into the fatal panic regions. Time for the grand finale.

***

"Can I help you?"

The voice came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, I nearly fainted. Turning towards it, I found myself face-to-face with the black-haired man again.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in my office suite," I snapped at him. Somehow, the area around us looked much more familiar now, more in focus.

"I'm here to help, Richard Squier. The person you are looking for is in this office over there," he said, elegantly pointing towards a closed door. "She has always been," he added, before turning down a hallway.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, I yanked the door open. But instead of striding into Violet's office, I stumbled into my own bedroom. Saphire was there, spread-eagled on the bed, ankles and wrists tied to the bedposts with shockingly colorful scarves, and our maid, Molly, was going down on her. I knew this scene all too well, this happened just a few hours ago. Or has it? I wasn't too sure. Someone jostled me out of the way. Wilkes, our driver, entered the bedroom, already stripped down to his boxers. Those he shed as well and he climbed into the bed, feeding his massive cock to my wife. Saphire gurgled happily as he began to fuck her mouth with it while Molly purred, "Too bad your husband isn't here. I really could do with a cock up my pussy too." Repulsed, I slammed the door shut and turned away. When I find this black-haired guy again, I'll give him an earful he'll never forget!

But since I knew where I was, I could go back to my office, maybe find some peace and quiet. Maybe this dream world worked somewhat similar to our own? Maybe I could call Violet? I stopped at Gloria's desk, now unattended, and looked for the phone. Instead of the sleek, touchscreen-driven machine there was an ancient apparatus but instead of keys or a dial it had Gloria's face.

"Who you gonna call?" she asked, winking.

"Get me Violet," I snapped. For some reason, it felt totally natural to speak to a phone wearing my secretary's face.

"I'm afraid you'll need to dial yourself, sir," she said happily, opening her mouth impossibly wide. On her swollen, grotesquely oversized tongue, a keypad gleamed wetly.

"Go on, I won't bite," she half-said, half-gurgled invitingly. Fighting for my composure, I gingerly dialled the four-digit number I knew by heart. The Gloria phone's mouth closed around my fingers and sucked greedily. Disgusted, I yanked my hand back and picked up the receiver.

From somewhere around me, I heard an electronic chime.

"Hello?" Violet purred. My heart skipped a beat. It was really her!

"Violet? Where are you?"

"Where would I be, Richard? In my office, doing my job. Just the way you like best." Then she moaned, the same sensual sound she made when she was climaxing on my dick.

"Sorry, boss, but I can't talk. I'm really busy, and I'm having a visitor right now," she cooed. Now I was hearing the noises. Wet squelching, heated breathing. I slammed the receiver down onto the phone and ran. Her office door was just in front of me. I grabbed the handle and turned but the door didn't budge. Fuck! I remembered -- there was a second door to that office, through one of the conference rooms. I stormed off, down a corridor, skidded madly around a corner. The conference room! I tackled the door open. The huge oak table, surrounded by plush leather chairs, gleamed invitingly in the orange half-glow coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And I could hear Violet moan in the next room. The door was only half closed. And I recognized the other voice -- the low growling of my wife. Heart racing, I sped towards the door and ripped it open.

"Saphire, no," I screamed, helplessly watching as my naked wife, writhing on top of a bound Violet, buried her teeth in my lover's throat. Flesh tore wetly and blood fountained. Saphire moaned, chewing hungrily, again and again ripping dripping pieces of flesh out of Violet's neck. When Saphire finally was done, I was on my knees, helplessly sobbing. She slid off the desk where she had killed Violet, her face, breasts and stomach blood-stained. With a sensual purr, she buried her fingers in that ghastly hole in Violet's neck, scooping up a full handful of that red liquid.

"When I'm done with you, this will be all that's left of your life. Blood and tears, Richard," she hissed, shaking her hand. With obscene noises, the thick blood spattered onto the floor.

Shaking my head in denial, I stumbled to my feet. I didn't know where the rage came from but I was mad, practically foaming at the mouth. My hands flexed and I longed to wring her neck, to choke the life from her plastic body, to get her back for all those years chained to her side.

"Hold that thought," a silky-smooth voice purred behind me. Then everything went black.

***

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Unwashed, unclean. And then came the pain. My stomach felt like it was caving in on itself and my head throbbed murderously. But even above all that, I wanted to kill Saphire for what she had done to my lover. I tried to open my eyes until I realized that they were open but there was nothing to see. It was pitch-black, or was it? Slowly, shapes began to form, a huge, somewhat brighter something in front of me. I blinked and it felt as if my eyelids were being dragged over sandpaper. I felt a presence next to me and turned my head. In shocking clarity, I could see the black-haired man from earlier, looking at me.

"Wakey, wakey, Richard Squier. You've been gone for far too long and I'm sure you're itching to get things done, are you not?"

"Hargh..."

I meant to say "Who are you?" but my mouth was dry as the desert. Again I tried to move, turn my chair around so I could see him better. I felt something pull at the side of my head. With inhuman effort, I raised my hand until I could touch the foreign object. A cord. Had I been logged in all this time? Blinking again, I felt my eyes water. It felt so unbelievably good, I sobbed involuntarily. My hand was still brushing the cord and, with the precision of a master surgeon, I closed three fingers around the plug and pulled. With barely any resistance, both plug and hand plummeted downwards and something fell onto me, nearly bowling me out of my chair. I fought to open my eyes again and supplemented their limited use with my hands. Some kind of metal beam had fallen onto me, holding a half-empty plastic bag, which was connected to my arm via a flexible tube. Thinking was so difficult!

"Violet Smith had set up some kind of liquid sustenance. Don't tell me she failed," the stranger said conversationally. His cool, nearly emotionless tone made me shiver even harder.

"You're probably wondering what had happened to you," the voice came back. "You witnessed my birth and I found you interesting enough to not kill you outright."

Another unintelligible noise escaped my dried-up mouth.

"No, this just won't do. Give me a moment," the stranger said. Then, my implanted cell-phone rang. Reflexively, I took the call. Maybe it was Violet!

"Sorry to disappoint you, it's just me, Nero," the voice whispered, right inside my head. I could hear him speak the same words but they were in my head a heartbeat before they reached my ears.

"That's because we're communicating via a secure network channel. No need for words anymore. Just think."

As if thinking straight was that easy! What had happened to me? Why did I feel like a wet kitten? And why did I smell like a whole nest of ferrets?

"I kept you in the 'Net for about six and a half days, Richard Squier. Your body has suffered a little but I think you'll be fine. No permanent damage has been inflicted. Some food, a shower, and you're as good as new. And as for the smell? Well, you pissed yourself before Violet was so kind and cleaned you up. Nurse, fuck toy, PA... your relationship with her is quite complicated, isn't it?"