This choice: "No, it's me that picks your destination body." she tells you. • Go Back...Chapter #6"No, it's me that picks your destinatio... by: Mr. George   "No, it's me that picks your destination body." she tells you. Your confusion and denial must be obvious from your face, as the judge repeats, "Your representative will select your next body, while I select the synthetic soul, and the training you'll receive to help rehabilitate you to a more honest line of work."
"You can't be..."
"I am deadly serious." The judge cuts you off. "The sythetic soul's influence will fade completely and after a year you'll have full control of that body. I can only hope you embrace this as the opportunity it is."
Too soon, you're led from the court, the lab is neighbouring room. The sensors fitted in a cap that's secured around your head. The destination body hidden behind a curtain, as both your lawyer and the judge ensure the sentence is executed.
With a final adjusting tug to the strap beneath your chin. The technician nods his satisfaction to proceed. A nod from the judge, and you feel the weirdest sensations ever. As if you're being drunk, as if your very soul is being sucked from your head. A dizziness and disorientation replaces it, as your fingers and toes become dull and distant. A chill spreading up your arms and legs, as they too fade from your consciousness.
Too soon, it's rising up your chest, your heart racing as if feels like drowning as you expect your lungs to cease working. The last moments are beyond terrifying, as your vision turns dark and the icy embrace reaches your neck until darkness claims you.
- - - - -
Next thing you know, you're walking towards the elevator. Nodding to your lawyer, and answering with bimbo responses. You're a passenger in this damned body. Your hips piston, and your ass wiggles with every step, your ankles strain telling you of the heels, you're managing so expertly.
Another grating "Uh-huh..." bubbles cheerfully from plush lips, as the lawyer lets you know she's found you a job. It's only as you reach the polished metal doors of the elevator that you get to finally see your new body.
Recoiling in horror, none of it shows, a broad smile remains plastered across your face. You're wearing a shimmering blue satin dress. The neckline mortifyingly low, your girls displayed too prominently, a frilly apron at your slender waist. You're a maid! A frickin' Maid.
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"I suspect your awake in there..." the lawyer muses giving you a bit of side-eye in the elevator.
A brief flutter of eyelashes is all the control you can muster. "Huh..." the synthetic soul answers on your behalf. She smiles knowingly, recognising the limited influence you have.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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