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  • '57' Ch. 01

'57' Ch. 01

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This is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this story are not based on real life.

I've chosen to list this story in the SciFi/Fantasy category since that's where it seems to fit best to me. There will be a substantial BDSM in the story however, especially in future chapters. This chapter is a bit light on the sexual action though, so if you're looking for a quick fix, this may not be your thing.

I want to thank a former submissive of mine (who wishes to remain nameless) for her contributions to writing this story. Her insights and feedback have been invaluable to me as is her continued friendship.

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The night was cold, with a smattering of rain. At this hour, most sensible people would be home ensconced in their easy chairs or snuggled in their beds. At the outskirts of the city, however, in a nondescript industrial park, events were afoot that sensible people had no knowledge of.

Like its neighboring compounds, the buildings seemed quiescent, simply waiting for the morning to arrive. Looks can be deceptive though. A keen eye would notice that there was quite a bit of alert security discretely concealed around its perimeters. Such an observant person might also notice that there was an energy in the air -- a feeling of tension as if a massive coiled spring was poised to be released.

Known to very few was the fact that the buildings above ground level were only camouflage. Yes, they hosted an actual business enterprise, but that was only to deceive the curious. It also served as an excuse for the extra security, since the work of this sham company was defense related and classified. Most of those employed there had no idea what went on under their feet and would be hard pressed to believe it if they found out. They were part of the sensible people too.

In the nerve center of this secret underground complex, a few technicians monitored equipment and made adjustments. Towards the back of the room, a man sat on a raised dais in an expensive-looking leather chair. Though he was dressed simply in blue jeans and a polo shirt, it was obvious that he was in charge -- his commanding presence was palpable. He faced a bank of monitors upon which flickered graphs, images, and text almost too fast to be registered.

"Power levels nominal," a smooth, female, synthetic voice intoned. "All systems operational."

"Begin target acquisition," The man said in response.

"Targeting sequence initiated... Target locked. Data link integrity 100 percent," the machine answered.

"Display target," the man commanded.

An image formed on one of his monitors. It was of a woman sleeping in a bed. She had long, dark hair and a pretty face. Her age was probably in her mid-twenties. Next to her, slept a man, presumably a husband or boyfriend.

"Target confirmed. Begin data acquisition," the man commanded again.

"Commencing data acquisition."

On the screen, the woman became a bit agitated as if she were having a bad dream.

"Data acquisition complete."

The woman relaxed once more.

"Checking data integrity. Integrity verified."

The man relaxed a bit. Though the activities had seemed anticlimactic, data acquisitions could be tricky, but this one seemed to have worked well. Speaking to the computer once more, he said, "Power down acquisition hardware. Begin synthesis."

"Acquisition hardware shutdown sequence in progress. Synthesis programs initiated. Estimated time to completion, 10 days, 5 hours," the computer's voice responded.

As the hidden machinery powered down, it produced a palpable reduction in the feel of pent-up energies. This was accompanied by a visible reduction of tension in the control room.

Standing up, the man said, "Excellent job as always people. Your efforts are much appreciated. We'll be in touch via the usual channels when you're needed again."

The man stretched, reaching his arms toward the ceiling and then exiting the control room. He made his way to a small office just down the hall. Though it was small, it was quite well appointed and he took advantage of that by mixing himself a drink at its bar. He took this to his desk, sat down and waved his hand in front of the monitor there.

"Show me the data on our latest acquisition, Diana," he said.

"Yes Sir. Displaying now," cooed the same computer voice from earlier.

The man sat back in his chair, sipped his drink, and studied the data. This one has potential, he thought to himself. Now, we just need to figure out the right course to maximize it.

-----

Days passed. The man monitored the progress of his project closely. He was pleased to see that it was progressing without any obvious problems. He knew Diana would inform him of any glitches but he preferred to keep a close eye on things anyway. Attention to details was one of the things that had gotten him to where he was today.

Finally, the appointed time arrived.

A low musical tone sounded from the speakers hidden in the man's desk, followed by Diana's voice, "Sir. Synthesis is now complete. Activation is ready to proceed on your go-ahead."

"Thank you Diana. We'll use exam room one. Please let me know when all is prepared."

"I took the liberty of already doing that, Sir. You may proceed when you desire."

"You're very good at anticipating my needs, Diana. If you were a person, I'd consider marrying you."

"Thank you Sir," she said "I'll take that as a complement."

The man stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. Today called for more formal attire. His impeccably pressed pants and jacket were black. Beneath the jacket, he wore a light blue shirt with a darker blue tie.

Now dressed appropriately, he made his way down the hall to a steel door marked "Exam 1".

"Open the door please, Diana."

There was a whirring sound and a clunk from the door mechanism. The man reached for the handle and pushed open the door. On entering the room, and closing the door behind him, the mechanical sound was repeated, locking the door once more.

He paused a moment to examine the room. It was pleasant enough in an antiseptic sort of way, with pastel walls and tan carpet. Recessed fluorescent fixtures gave it a clinical cast reminiscent of a hospital room. Adding to that ambiance, was an electric hospital bed. It was the only piece of furniture in the room aside from the chair the man now sat in.

The occupant of the bed now became the focus of his attention. She rested comfortably in a sitting position and was a close match for the woman who had been targeted 10 days ago. There were slight differences, however, mostly involving the corrections of the subtle imperfections all people carried, often without notice. Her face was relaxed and unlined. Her hair fell about her shoulders in precise symmetry and her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. A hospital gown wrapped her upper body, and the rest was covered with a crisp, white sheet. The only visible anomaly was a silvery metallic ring encircling her neck.

"Diana, proceed with activation.", the man said to the empty air.

"Yes Sir. Activation initiated. Completion in 3...2...1. Activation complete."

The woman in the bed took a deep breath and opened her eyes. They were an arresting shade of blue, like two dark amethysts. The man sat quietly and observed her reactions.

Looking to the man with a quizzical expression, she said, "Um... Where am I?"

Leaning back in his chair and looking in her eyes over steepled fingers the man answered, "Perhaps a more appropriate question you should ask is Who am I."

"I know who I am. I'm Lindsey James. Was I in some sort of accident?"

"Not exactly. Your being here is not accidental. In fact, it's been planned for quite a while. There's really no easy way to tell you this and you probably won't believe me at first, but you're not who you think you are. You're not Lindsey James."

"Where's my family? Give me a phone," she said trying to hide the tremor in her voice.

"No. You don't have a family any more. The real Lindsey James is there with them. Like I said before, you're not her. You have her memories, but you're a copy of her, not the original article -- a clone if you will."

"Bullshit!" she said forcefully, "You better let me hell out of here. Right. Now!"

"That's not going to happen. At least not for a while. What you are is property. You should be happy. I'm granting your darkest fantasies. I know all about your secret life. I know all about your desires. It's why you were selected for this. Lindsey doesn't exist for you anymore. You're now known only as 57... at least until you earn the right to a name. You may address me as Sir"

57 looked at him as if all the wind had been knocked out of her sails. It was obvious that he knew a lot about her and what buttons to push. That was both scary and humbling.

The man reached into a compartment at the end of the bed and withdrew a mirror. He then held it out to the woman.

"Take a good look. Is this the person you remember?"

57 took the mirror and held it up to examine herself. Her eyes widened as she saw the metal collar around her neck.

The man continued, "You should know you don't have to worry about your family. The real Lindsey is still there and has no idea that you even exist. I'll also give you an incentive to cooperate. If you're a good slave we'll make sure that they're well taken care of. Good things will happen like job offers and seemingly lucky breaks that will improve their quality of life. Lindsey's family will not want for anything. That's if you cooperate and be a good girl."

"There's a flip side to that. You should know that we've modified you in several ways," the man said as he reached into his pocket. He withdrew something resembling a remote similar to what you would use to lock a car's doors.

"This is one of those modifications.", he said as he pressed a button. "An interesting effect, no?"

57 suddenly found herself unable to move. She could breathe and move her eyes but that was about it. "Sir" pressed the button again and she was released.

"This isn't the only way to trigger the effect.", he said holding up the control. "If you try to leave your prescribed areas, you'll find yourself locked down too. In that case, the onset isn't immediate, you have a buffer zone where the effect progressively ramps up to full paralysis."

"Well", he said as he stood up. "I've hit you with some pretty heavy information and I should give you some time to digest it. A bathroom is through the wooden door. There's a full-length mirror in there too, if you want to inspect the new you. If you have questions, ask Diana. Some she'll answer, some she won't."

"Diana, say hello."

"Hello, 57. Diana, at your service," the computerized voice answered.

"I'm sure you two will get on famously," the man said over his shoulder. Then, arriving at the steel door, "Sir" said, "Open the door please, Diana."

"Yes Sir", she answered as the lock clunked.

The man exited the door and it clicked shut behind him, leaving 57 to ponder her fate.

-----

She lay there for what seemed like hours but was probably closer to 15 minutes. Thoughts whirled about in her head. Foremost among them was denial. The story she'd been told was simply too far-fetched to take seriously. What was the truth, she wondered. Had she been kidnapped by some weird cult or criminal organization? Was she going to be sold to some rich, middle-eastern Sheik for his harem? They all seemed nearly as implausible as what she'd been told. She was just a mid-western mother of two. She hardly seemed worth the obvious effort that these people had gone to to get her here.

Well, she thought to herself, I can't just sit here in shock. I need to try and figure out what this is all about. With that thought, she sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side.

The carpet felt soft yet rough against the soles of her feet. It was a sensation she knew she'd felt many times before but somehow it also felt different. It was as if she could feel every individual fiber pressing against her skin. How could such a mundane thing trigger such sensually tactile sensations? Closing her eyes, she rubbed her feet against the floor, exploring her heightened sensitivity. What was going on here?

She opened her eyes and looked at her feet. Something felt out of place, but it took a minute for it to register. Her tattoo! The little heart that she'd had inked on the inside of her left ankle was gone! Frantically, she rolled up the sleeve of her gown to look at her shoulder. Its skin too, was bare. There was no sign of the chain tattoo that had once encircled her upper arm. Like the one on her ankle, it was gone with no sign of it ever having been there. The tattoos were a relic of her rebellious late teens. She'd felt straitjacketed by the strict religion she'd been brought up in and they had been a way for her to act out. The backlash from her parents had been so severe though that her spirit had finally been crushed and they had poured her back into their religious mold -- meek and malleable once more, but not without a large helping of resentment. She was shocked at the erasure, but a small part of her was relieved. She'd no longer have to wear sleeves to hide her "scandalous marks" from the prudish biddies at church. That was assuming she ever saw any of them again... with that sobering thought she snapped back to reality.

She stood up walked around the bed. She couldn't feel any aches or pains. Physically, she felt great. Her last memories were of having a slight cold and a bit of cramping due to her period. All of that was gone. Something she did notice though, was that she felt slightly unbalanced, not weak, but slightly out of kilter as if her weight had been redistributed and her kinesthetic sense of her body was a bit off. She wondered how much time had passed since her last memories.

She walked over the the steel door her enigmatic captor had recently exited. It was simply a slab of cold, featureless, shiny metal. There was no indication of a handle or any other means to open it and it fit seamlessly into the wall with not even space for a fingernail to be inserted between it and the frame. There seemed to be little hope of escape via this route.

It startled her that she'd not thought of escape until now. Had she harbored so many dark fantasies of abduction that when it had apparently happened for real that she was willing to go along with it? The situation was so out of her experience, she decided that she had no real reference points. She had fallen back into the habits formed by years of indoctrination. Don't think -- Obey.

Once again, she had to shake herself out of her reverie. Looking around the sparsely furnished room, her eyes were drawn to the wooden door on the far wall. She willed her legs to work and walked across the carpet to it, grabbed the handle, and pushed the door open.

As the door opened, she almost jumped out of her skin. There was another woman in there staring back at her! Then, she realized it wasn't someone else, it was her own reflection in a mirrored wall at the opposite side of the room. Taking a deep breath to settle her jumpy nerves, she entered and let her gaze wander around the room. It was a well-appointed, if sterile, bathroom -- all white tile and glass. On the right was a large whirlpool tub and a commodious shower with clear glass walls. On the left, a sink, toilet, and bidet in the European style. Various toiletries were arranged on the counter next to the sink such as could be found in a hotel. Glancing to the right of the door she saw there were shelves inset into the wall containing various linen such as towels and washcloths on the upper shelves.

Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the mirror though. She stepped closer and stared at her image there. The woman in the mirror stared back. She didn't know quite what to feel. It was her, but it wasn't. It was almost like she was looking at an actress who had been hired to play her in a movie. The actress's makeup was amazing but the differences were somehow made more jarring because they were so subtle. Her face, once slightly care-worn, was now smooth and unlined. Her nose, once a bit skewed from a childhood accident was now straight.

She ran her fingers over the collar around her neck. It was a solid ring of what appeared to be stainless steel about a quarter of an inch thick. The only break in the smoothness was the number 57 deeply engraved into its shiny surface. She rotated it on her neck searching for a clasp or some mechanism to release it. There was nothing. It appeared to be a solid, unbroken ring.

Her fingers slipped behind her neck to grab the tie that held the back of her hospital gown closed. Holding her breath, she pulled. As the knot came undone, she lowered her arms and the gown fell to the floor in a whisper of fabric to pool around her feet.

She let her gaze drift over her now-exposed torso. The changes in her body were much more obvious here. There were no sags, wrinkles, scars, or stretch marks in evidence. Her left breast had previously been slightly smaller than her right. Now they were the same size and both were... perky was the only way to describe them. They looked like they belonged on a teenager. She cupped them in her hands. They felt so firm, so unlike what she was used to. A thumb brushed over a nipple and it felt like a shock of electricity traveled from there directly to her cunt.

Both of her nipples instantly became rock hard. Seemingly of their own accord, her fingers pinched and pulled them. Her eyes closed and a moan escaped her lips. Her nipples had never been terribly sensitive before and since she'd nursed her children they had become even less so. She was totally unprepared for the flood of sensation she was now experiencing. She felt her face getting warm... and a warmth was spreading in another area too. Her pussy was tingling. Her breathing became labored and her knees felt weak. Without warning, an orgasm crashed over her and she had to fight to stay upright as waves of pleasure washed through her. She heard cries and suddenly realized they were coming from her. Never in her life had she cum like this!

As her orgasm subsided, she slumped to her knees and let her head rest against the cool glass of the mirror waiting for her breathing to return to normal. How could she have cum like that without even touching her pussy? Her sex life with her husband had been a boring routine. The only orgasms she'd had were those she'd given herself and those had been a mere shadow of what she'd just experienced.

She worked to compose herself and shakily stood up to continue her inspection. Once more, she checked out her reflection and let her eyes travel lower. She admired the way her sides dipped in below her chest before flaring out to wonderfully feminine hips. Her abdomen was flat and tight, the smooth skin traveling in a gentle, graceful curve to her hairless mons. She'd never shaved the hair there before and she paused to inspect it more closely. That's when she noticed that her skin wasn't totally unmarked. Above and to the right of the cleft of her labia there was what appeared to be a tattoo, its black ink stood out in stark contrast to her alabaster skin. It was about an inch long and a quarter inch high. The majority consisted of characters in a script she wasn't familiar with but the last two stood out -- 57. She wondered what that meant. What was the significance of that number? Were there 56 other versions of herself running around or had it taken that many tries to get it right? As she thought this, she realized that she was beginning to accept what she'd been told about herself. What she'd experienced so far didn't seem to fit any other scenario. The old Sherlock Holmes quote sprang to mind, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." The only problem was that the explanation she'd been given seemed equally impossible.

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