You wake up. Something doesn't feel right. It's hard to move. Your head feels fuzzy. You try to remember. Walking: you were walking. It was dark. Someone behind you. Hands grabbing you. Something over your mouth. Strange smell. Darkness.

Your heart beats faster and you try to struggle, but you still can't move. You realise your hands and legs are tied. You start to sob but it's only in your mind. Your body doesn't respond. It just lies there.

Movement. Sound. You sense that someone is there. You try to control your rising panic as they start to speak.

"Ah, I see you are awake. Don't be afraid. Soon all your fears will go away."

A figure comes into your line of sight. It is too dark for you to make out details, but you can see it is a man. He is doing something to you, but you can't feel it. He seems to be testing something. Is he... is he measuring you? Your fuzzy brain tries to make sense of it.

"Yes," he says, seeming to talk to himself rather than you. "A perfect specimen. It will do just nicely." After a moment, he turns to face you. "I suppose you are wondering what you are doing here. Don't worry. You won't need to wonder for long. Or be afraid. Or even think. Soon all of that will go away."

You are truly panicking now and it must show in your eyes. He tries to soothe you. "No need to stress. It won't hurt a bit. Most of the drugs are already in your system. You can't see the IV in your arm, but it's been slowly medicating you for hours while you slept. I just need to add the final paralytic and sedating agents, and you'll drift right off. Then your conversion can begin."

Conversion? Your drugged brain fights to understand but you have no idea what he means. He seems to want to explain, though. "It's a fascinating process, really. A technological and scientific wonder. Did you know your brain is the most powerful computer yet discovered in the universe? It's wasted in a fallible human body, really. No artificial intelligence we've been able to build has even come close to a real brain. So we're going to take yours out, along with a few other useful parts of you, and transplant them into a synthetic body. You will become a machine, powered by a human brain. But don't worry, all those pesky human thoughts and feelings will be gone. You'll simply be a perfect machine."

He looms closer now, and you can see him smiling down at you. A nondescript, middle-aged man, unremarkable, ordinary. He seems excited about what he is about to do. As if he is doing you a favor.

"Think how amazing it will be. Never to have to think, or feel, or make decisions. All you will have to do is following your programming. My dear, you are privileged to be one of the first to undergo this conversion. A trailblazer. You will become a perfect example of the power of technology."

He suddenly turns and wheels a gurney over. A body lies on it. No, not a body. A... mannequin. "See here? This will be your new body. Synthetic skin over a titanium chassis. Looks human, feels human, but virtually indestructible. Capable of feeling pleasure and pain if your programming allows it." He chuckles. "And once your organic brain is hooked up to the unit's neural network, the processing power will be phenomenal. You will be quite the gadget!" He beams at you, as if expecting you to be pleased. You try to fight down the rising panic. This can't be real. You must be dreaming.

He looks suddenly at his watch. "Hmm, time to be getting on if you are to be ready in time. Already have a buyer, you see. Special order. He's paying a pretty penny, too. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting." He comes closer, a syringe in hand, and begins to do something to your IV. You try to scream, to struggle, to fight, but you cannot move. You cannot move at all. And now your vision is closing in at the edges, becoming black, and you feel so very cold. "There now, my dear. Off to sleep. When you wake up, you will be perfect..."

You blink. Bright light. Humming. You are coming online. You know this. You don't know how you know it, and it doesn't occur to you to wonder. You have rebooted. You stare straight ahead, waiting.

Someone is smiling at you. A man. He seems to be looking you over, inspecting you. "Do you know who I am?" he asks.

You search your data banks. There is no match. "No, sir," you respond.

"I am your master. Add that to your programming." You blink and write the data to your memory. "Yes, master."

"Good." He grins widely, then runs a hand down your arm. "Amazing," he says softly. "You feel so real." His hand brushes over your hard nipples that point out through the fabric of your floral dress. You feel it. You are programmed to feel it. You feel your system respond as it is programmed to do, your arousal circuits coming online.

"Robot... Hmmm, no, that won't do. I need something to call you. Do you have a name?"

You respond readily, your wiring humming slightly as you access the data. "I am a model A2 cybernetic gynoid, master, designated unit 4576, serial number 009394882938992."

He smirks. "But you used to have a name. You used to be human. Isn't that right?"

You blink a few times, trying to process this question. "Negative, master. That would be impossible. I am a machine. I have no memories of being human."

He circles around you, stroking your arm, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Fascinating," he murmurs quietly. "You don't remember it at all. You don't remember me. I wonder if those memories are buried somewhere in there, or if they wiped them completely." He looks you up and down. "No matter. They certainly did a brilliant job of building this body, though." He roughly grabs your breasts, squeezing them, as you look straight ahead. "These are, what, double Ds? And perfectly perky. And that ass. Mmmm. Delicious. I'm certainly going to get my money's worth out of that, aren't I?"

You respond automatically. "Yes, master."

He laughs, and then says mildly, "I think we'll call you Cynthia. Synthetic Cynthia. Add that to your programming."

"Yes, master."

"Get on your knees, Cynthia."

You drop immediately to your knees. He smirks. "So obedient. This is going to be fun." He begins to undo his belt. "Open your mouth, Cynthia." You do so without hesitation.

"Tell me, are you programmed to suck cocks, Cynthia?"

You blink quickly as you access the data. "I am programmed in all known forms of sexual pleasure, including fellatio, master."

"Good. Suck my cock until I come. Swallow it all. And you'd better make it good."

You instantly lean forward and take his cock into your mouth, automatically following your programming. Your programming is all you know. You must obey your programming. You suck and lick, and take his cock down your synthetic throat as he moans and grunts in pleasure. He forces his shaft so deep, but you have no gag reflex and you only want to take him deeper, swallowing around his girth. You eagerly pleasure him with your hot mouth, your soft lips, your skilled tongue. Soon, you feel him twitch and shoot his load into you. You obediently swallow as you have been commanded.

"Fuck yeah, good robot," he moans as he pulls his member out of your pretty, synthetic mouth. "You never sucked cock that good when you were human."

You blink up at him. "I am not human, master. I am a model A2 cybernetic gynoid, designated unit 45-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're a pretty, programmed toaster. Get up, toaster, and go to the bedroom. When you get there, strip, and wait for me."

"Yes, master." You immediately follow these orders, with not a thought or a feeling.

You wait, naked and still, for a long time. But it doesn't matter. Time has no meaning for you. Eventually, he comes. He stands looking at you, shaking his head. "Fascinating..." he says again. Then, "Bend over, Cynthia, and grab your ankles." You bend as he commands. He runs his hands down your naked body, pushing up against you from behind. "So flexible..." he murmurs. You hear him unzip his flies, then you feel the head of his hard cock pressing against your lips. This triggers your arousal mode, and lubricant begins to flow to your core. "Mmmm, you're warm, just like a human," he mumbles, as he pushes slowly into you. "Don't you fucking move, toaster. Stay just like that. Don't let go of those ankles." He is buried all the way inside you now. "Fuck! It feels so real!" he grunts. The way you are bent almost in half makes your pussy so very, very tight. Your pleasure sensors are being triggered by this intrusion into your body, and you moan softly.

"Oh, you like that, toaster?" he growls. "Let's see how you like being fucked hard." He pulls out of you and slams back in. Your synthetic lubricant is flowing freely now, your arousal circuits pulsing and your pleasure centre alight with electrical charge. Your synth-pussy clenches around him as he pounds into you, gripping him with a tightness that no human could manage. "Ahh, fuck yes!" he moans, ramming into you faster and faster. "Fucking take it, take my dick in that robot cunt!"

Faster and harder he slams into you, roughly claiming you, balls slapping against you with every thrust. "How do you like that? Does it hurt?" He laughs. "You can't feel pain, can you? I can fuck you as hard as I want! No crying, no whining..." He pauses in his rutting to slap you sharply on the ass. You squeal, as your programming says you must. "Yeah, but you can fucking feel that, can't you? Fuck yeah!"

As he keeps punishing your body, your pleasure stimulation builds to maximum and your orgasm protocol is triggered. You come in shuddering waves of programmed pleasure, gripping his cock impossibly tightly as he continues to drive deep into your artificial body. "Fuck, yes!" he hollers, unable to hold off his own climax as your synthetic cunt milks him. He shoots hot cum deep inside you as he trembles and shudders in ecstasy, before pulling out of you and collapsing onto the nearby bed.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Best appliance I ever bought," he pants out. "Better than my wide screen TV, better than my X-box." He grins. "Come here and clean my cock, Cynthia. With your tongue."

You obediently go over and clean every drop of his combined cum and your synthetic juices from his spent cock. When you are done, he roughly grabs your hair and jerks your head up, looking into your eyes. "Are you in there at all?" he asks.

You blink. "I do not understand the question, master. It does not compute."

He lets your hair go. "Never mind, Cynthia. Forget about it."

You obediently wipe the question from your data banks.

He grabs your ass cheeks in both hands and fingers your crack. "I'll think I'll take your ass next, Cynthia. You never let me do that before. And now you can't stop me, can you?"

"Master?" You are confused again. His words do not align with your accessible data.

"Forget it, Cynthia. Rhetorical question. I'm going to fuck you in the ass when I get my breath back. That's all you need to know."

"Yes, master."

"Lie down. I want to rest my head on those big, perfect titties."

You obey. He nuzzles against your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. "These still work, you know," he mumbles into you. "They kept those bits, along with your brain. The reproductive bits. For when I want to use them. Cost a lot more, too. But it was worth it. Because you're not just a perfect robotic fucktoy, Cynthia, you're a perfect robotic incubator, too. Your robot body will grow my babies, and these beautiful big breasts will feed them."

"Yes, master," you agree obediently. You know this already. It is in your programming. Cooking, cleaning, childcare, administration, sexual service, and reproductive duties. These are what the A2 models are built for.

"You know," he says conversationally, "before I bought you, Cynthia, I had a girlfriend. She tried to break up with me. Said she didn't see a future with me. Said I was too controlling. Said she didn't want to have babies with me. Said she wanted her freedom." He laughs. "She didn't realise she was mine, and that she'll always be mine."

"Yes, master," you agree. Your programming dictates that you agree with your master. It does not occur to you to wonder why he is telling you this. You don't think. You don't feel. You just follow your programming.

"She'll always be mine, Cynthia, just even more perfect that she could ever be before. Her brain, her ovaries, her womb, her heart... they all belong to me. They're the parts I kept. The parts I'll use."

He sits up, staring intently into your eyes. "Look at me, Cynthia. This is an order, a change to your programming. I want you to access your human memories. Remember who you used to be. Remember now."

You stare in confusion. Your programming does not allow this. But you attempt to obey. Your eyelids flutter, your head jerking erratically from side to side as you attempt to carry out these commands.

"Remember... remember... I... remember... human..." Your eyes open impossibly wide and you suddenly sit up straight. You begin to hyperventilate, even though you no longer need to breathe. You stare at him in panic

He laughs at you. "And, there she is! I knew you were in there somewhere, sweetheart. I wanted you to know what happened. What you've become. Did you think you could just leave? I told you. You are mine!"

You feel like you are breaking out in a cold sweat, although your new body can no longer perspire. You struggle against your programming, the part that says you cannot harm a human. You raise your fist, your impossibly strong, superhuman fist, towards him.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, don't even think about it. I order you to freeze." You sob internally as all movement automatically ceases, instantly obeying programming and the commands of your master. "Now, when I tell you to, you're going to forget all your human memories again. But when I say your name -- your human name -- you'll remember who you are again, until I tell you to forget. I want to be able to remind you, sweetheart. I want to be able to make you remember. Whenever I want. But know this, before I take your memories away again. I'm going to fuck you in your new body, every day, in the most degrading and disgusting ways imaginable. I'm going to use you like the fucktoy you now are. I'm going to fill your womb, transplanted inside that robot body, with baby after baby after baby. And I'm going to raise them to be just like me. And you know what the best part is, sweetheart? You're going to want me to do it all. You're going to beg me for it. And you're going to love it. You know why? Because that's how you're programmed."

He grins. "Oh, I can see in your eyes that you don't like that one bit. Tough, sweetheart. You shouldn't have tried to leave me. Now I'm calling the shots. Because you are mine. In every way. And sometimes I'm going to let you remember. Let you realise what you really are. So I can see this look in your eyes again."

The rage and panic and terror build in you until you think you are going to explode. That is the exact moment that he says, "Forget your human memories now, Cynthia. Your master commands it."

You stare at him impassively, blinking occasionally, in a way that is too precise and regular to be entirely natural or human. You await orders, as your programming dictates.

He grins and stretches. "Go and get me a beer now, Cynthia. Then I think I'm going to fuck your ass."

"Yes, master."