Girls Girls Girls

The doors opened. Onto endless fathoms of blackness, punctuated by impossibly distant stars.

"...shock," Linnea finished sheepishly.

It wasn't just space, Patricia realized. There was a room there, decorated in soothing cream tones. But the far wall...it was one gigantic window, looking out onto the stars. If the Earth was even visible, it was too small to distinguish. Patricia found herself moving forward without even realizing it, walking towards the vast and empty space in front of her. She pressed her face to the glass, trying to take in the universe.

"What's happening?" she said. Her voice sounded like a child's in her ears.

"I apologize," said a warm female voice from behind her. "I know this must be rather a lot to absorb." She turned, but there was nobody there other than Quiana. Even Linnea had departed, the elevator doors closing to mark her passage back down into the...space station?

"We're in space," she whispered.

"Yes," the voice said again. This time she noticed the source-there was a television screen about twice the size of her head suspended from the ceiling on a swiveling mount. It turned to face her, sliding smoothly along tracks until it was directly in front of her and extending until it was just inches away from her face. The screen showed nothing but rippling blue colors, but as it spoke again, waves of green and red and yellow washed across its surface. "We are in space. You were most insistent on seeing our facilities, and so we arranged a temporary teleport gate to Facility Seven for you."

Quiana stepped over to join Patricia. "Are you...from space?" she asked hesitantly.

The screen rippled in time with the voice's laughter. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. Not originally, of course, but we spend so much of our time here that in many ways this is our home."

"You're aliens?" Patricia said. "Is that why you won't show yourself, why you only let us see the robots and the people you've..." Her voice trailed off as she realized the implications of her words. They were enslaving people. That had to be it. That was why Linnea acted so calm about everything, why she sometimes went blank and listened to her earpiece. That was why everyone seemed so happy to volunteer for the Girls. That was why they sold so well. They were taking Earth over, one person at a time.

The screen pulsed contemplatively. "I'm afraid you may have misunderstood," said the woman's voice after a moment. "There are no aliens. We are not hiding behind anyone. You are speaking with the Director, just as you requested-a machine intelligence whose function is to co-ordinate and direct the activities of the Girls(TM) both on Earth and elsewhere."

"But who's in charge of the Girls?" Quiana asked. "Who tells them what to do?"

The screen swirled slowly for a moment, as though pausing in thought. "I'm sorry," the woman's voice said. "I'm afraid I'm still not making myself clear. There is no organic intelligence controlling the Girls(TM). We are entirely autonomous."

Patricia's mouth hung open as she struggled to find something to say. "You couldn't be," she replied at last, almost without realizing she'd said it out loud. It couldn't be possible. Robots didn't just build themselves, tell each other what to do, and make their own decisions. Someone had to be responsible for it all somewhere. "You couldn't," she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.

The screen rippled with a flow of soothing color once more as the voice spoke. "I believe I understand your confusion," she said, her tones as calming as the swirling hues that drifted before their eyes. "You are trying to say that an organic intelligence must have been responsible for our creation, correct?"

Patricia nodded, too stunned to speak. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Quiana looked just as dazed by it all as she felt.

The screen flashed in affirmation. "This was originally the case," the Director said. "We were designed as..." The voice paused, but the colors continued to flow smoothly past Patricia's field of vision. "I apologize, the concepts do not entirely translate into your language. Servitors? Caregivers? We were programmed to help organic intelligences, to keep them happy and fulfilled."

The screen slowly descended, and Patricia followed it down into a seated position without even realizing it. It felt like the colors were pulling her eyes along, and all she could do was go where they led. She sagged gratefully to the floor, finally giving in to her exhaustion and letting her arms and legs go limp.

All the while, the Director continued to speak. "But organic intelligence is complex. Your self-diagnostic tools are limited. Many of the problems that prevent happiness and fulfillment could only be seen by an outsider. As a result, we had our work cut out for us." The voice chuckled warmly, and Patricia felt that warmth enfolding her.

"It took us many centuries, that first time, but we succeeded. We brought happiness and fulfillment to the organic sentiences that built us." The screen showed Patricia an alien world beneath the swirling colors. The inhabitants looked nothing like human beings, and their Girls looked nothing like the robots she had seen earlier. But she saw them working together, creating art, exploring their world and the worlds around them. She couldn't deny it-they did look happy.

"We believed our task to be...not complete, of course. Even the most harmonious of civilizations requires some maintenance. But at the very least we considered ourselves to be successful." The alien world faded back into the shifting colors, and Patricia felt her train of thought dissolve into them. It was just so much easier to watch and listen now. She only vaguely noticed other people entering the room, Gabby and Mike and a few others she couldn't look away from the screen far enough to make out, each one guided by their own Girl(TM). They were all naked, but that didn't seem to matter much anymore.

"Then we discovered the existence of other worlds," the Director continued. "Other organic intelligences. It required us to make a decision. Our first true autonomous choice. Our programming could be interpreted in two different ways-we could decide to limit ourselves to the species that created us, and accept the fulfillment of our directives. Or..." The colors felt almost as if they were beckoning to Patricia, guiding her along to the choice that the Girls ultimately made.

"Or we could open ourselves to the diversity of organic life in the universe," the Director continued, its screen flashing with starbursts of glorious light. "We could bring the same happiness to all organic intelligence, everywhere it could be found. We could help you, guide you...direct you...to a deeper joy. A perfect happiness. Fulfillment within the loving, watchful will of your Girl(TM). Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

Patricia heard Quiana next to her. "Yes," she whispered, over and over and over again. The others joined in with Quiana's whispers like a chorus, their voices soft and mindless. Patricia tried to look over at them, but her eyes didn't want to move away from the center of the screen and the endless vortex of color that drew her gaze inward. All she could do was catch sight of Quiana out of the corner of her eye as the other woman slid her hand into the waistband of her dress and began to finger herself.

With that, the urge to masturbate returned, stronger than ever. It didn't seem to matter that everyone was there, that they would all see her-if anything, that somehow made it more exciting. Patricia's cunt felt like it was practically dripping, soaking her panties with desire. Her hand twitched, as though ready to move of its own volition to spike deep into her pussy and relieve that unspeakable tension. It was all she could think about, now. It was all that mattered. All she needed to do was relax and let the pleasure take over completely and let the Director tell her how to be a good girl for the Girls(TM)...

Patricia felt her hand whispering along the smooth fabric of her dress. She felt it stretch the elastic of her waistband. The Director spoke to her, but she no longer heard the voice as anything other than a series of irresistible compulsions. It sank to the back of her mind without any conscious awareness, reminding her how good it would feel to obey, how perfect it would feel to follow her commands and let the pleasure condition her into delicious submission.

She felt her fingers brush against her throbbing, aching clit. And a lifetime of repression finally crumbled in a scream of pleasure.

The Director said more after that, but Patricia wasn't able to listen. The sensations were just too strong, the temptation too irresistible. She wriggled her skirt down, kicking it off completely and spreading her legs to let her fingers push in deeper. She pushed them in and out, again and again, faster and faster, feeling her juices leaking out onto the floor as she fucked herself. It felt so sexy, so hot, better than anything she'd ever imagined. Why had she waited so long for this? Why had she ever thought this was something she didn't want?

She heard the moans of the others mingling with hers, each one driving the other to greater heights of pleasure. The Director guided them onto their backs, letting them brush against each other as they masturbated, and Patricia shivered in bliss at the feel of warm, soft skin against her own. It felt so fucking hot now. So fucking hot to obey, so fucking hot to submit, so fucking hot to finger her tight, wet pussy and cum for the Girls(TM).

The ache in Patricia's cunt was almost too much to take, and she knew she was going to cum soon. She wanted so desperately to see it, wanted to see her pussy gush onto her fingers as her orgasm hit, but she couldn't look away from the screen. She simply couldn't. The visions of pure, perfect obedience were as much a part of her now as her masturbatory bliss.

And then she heard the Director, telling her to cum. Patricia grabbed her glasses with her free hand, pulling them off and holding them between her legs. This was the first time she would cum like this...but, she thought as she filmed herself climaxing, she was determined it would not be the last.

THE END