"This is my boss, Lindsay," Blanca said as she led Missouri through the offices of VerdeCore Interfaces, Inc. "I'm so excited that you two finally get to meet!"
Missouri's lips parted, but the words dissolved before they could form. Her dark eyes remained transfixed by the living art that adorned Lindsay's face.
Lindsay Vex was a beacon of innovation and mystery. Her long, silver hair cascaded like a waterfall of starlight, framing a face that bore the marks of her genius. But it wasn't just her piercing, otherworldly blue eyes that captivated onlookers—it was the mesmerizing, ever-shifting tattoo that adorned her face.
Lindsay was the eccentric multibillionaire owner of VerdeCore, a company at the cutting edge of technology and human augmentation. As the founder and mastermind behind a new nanite-based tattoo pigment, she had turned her own body into a testament to her groundbreaking work.
The intricate designs erupting across her cheeks and forehead seemed to pulse with a life of their own, shifting subtly with her moods, her thoughts, and even the ambient energy of the world around her. Lindsay was immensely proud of her creation, and rightfully so. It was a testament to her brilliance and her unyielding spirit of innovation.
Lindsay Vex was more than just a scientist; she was a visionary, a pioneer who had turned her own body into a canvas for the future.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Missouri," Lindsay said, her voice carrying the refined edge of someone accustomed to command. "I've heard quite a lot about you from Blanca."
Missouri remained motionless, staring, utterly captivated.
Blanca nudged her gently. "Missy?"
"Oh! I'm—I'm sorry," Missouri stammered, heat rushing to her cheeks as her trance broke. "It's really nice to meet you too... Lindsay."
"Ms. Lindsay," the white-haired woman corrected immediately, her light blue eyes cooling several degrees, the patterns on her face constricting into tight, angular formations. "I prefer Ms. Lindsay from Blanca's associates."
"Of course, Ms. Lindsay," Missouri quickly amended, her words tumbling over each other. "I'm sorry, I just—your tattoo is absolutely incredible. I've never seen anything like it in my life."
Lindsay's expression softened marginally, the patterns on her face shifting to more symmetrical designs. "Thank you. It was just a side project," she remarked with practiced nonchalance.
"It's the coolest thing I've ever seen," Missouri continued, her initial shyness dissolving into a flood of unfiltered enthusiasm. "The way it moves and changes—it's like watching living art, or some kind of alien technology from the future. How does it work? Can you control the patterns consciously? Can you imitate works of art? Can you do any color you want?"
The questions poured from Missouri in a breathless rush, her eyes wide with fascination. Blanca shot her a cautionary glance, but Lindsay's tattoo had already shifted into brighter, more intricate patterns that seemed to indicate amusement—or perhaps satisfaction at having her work properly appreciated.
"All excellent questions," Lindsay replied, studying Missouri with renewed interest. "The technology is proprietary, of course, but yes—the pigment matrices respond to a combination of neural signals, emotional states, and external stimuli. I can assert some control, if I choose, but allowing them a degree of autonomy creates the most fascinating results."
Missouri nodded eagerly, hanging on every word. "It's absolutely brilliant, Ms. Lindsay. Genuinely revolutionary. I mean, the applications for something like that could be endless... uh... like... well... Blanca could do great things with this... And you too, of course..." Her confidence suddenly faltered as she realized she was lecturing a genius about her own invention. "I'll just, uh, leave the inventing to you and Blanca... but it's just... it's beautiful."
For a brief moment, Lindsay's cold blue eyes sparked with genuine pleasure, and the tattoo responded with a ripple of bright, honeycomb patterns. "How nice to meet someone who appreciates true innovation," she said, straightening her already impeccable posture. "Now, let me look at you."
Missouri smiled briefly but, after a pregnant pause, seemed to slowly hunch more and more as Lindsay circled her with an unwavering, analytical gaze.
"Hm!" Lindsay declared as though she had concluded some complex calculation, her chin tilted upward. "Missouri, I appreciate that you have agreed to be the form factor for our future line of gynoids. You are a very beautiful woman."
Missouri blushed, her gaze immediately dropping to the floor as if the compliment had physical weight. "Thank you, Ms. Lindsay," she stammered.
"I like your petite figure," Lindsay continued, circling Missouri with measured steps. "Your boobs are not so big and it gives your body an androgynous look. Also, your diminutive height and delicate features present a compelling submissive allure, which will be the exact image humans will value in a synthetic household assistant," she explained with the air of someone delivering a profound academic lecture. “Humans won’t mind making demands of something that looks like it is meant to serve.”
"Uh... okay..." Missouri managed, unconsciously arching her back to make her breasts stand out a little more, her fingers fidgeting nervously at her sides as she struggled to process being evaluated like a prototype.
"Well! I'll leave Blanca to attach you to the imaging frame. Enjoy yourself," Lindsay declared with a smirk and a dismissive wave of her hand, as if bestowing a great privilege.
Lindsay turned around and walked quickly from the room, her silver hair flowing behind her like a royal cape.
As soon as the door closed, Blanca smiled sympathetically. "Yeah... she can be a little awkward around people."
<>--+-
The imaging chamber at VerdeCore was a stark white cube, no larger than a modest bathroom, its antiseptic gleam reflecting the harsh, shadowless light that seemed to emanate from every surface rather than any discernible source. At its center hung the positioning apparatus—a deceptively simple framework of articulated metal arms and adjustable restraints designed to hold the subject in an unmistakably vulnerable position: on hands and knees, spine perfectly horizontal. Thin, spider-like sensors hung from the ceiling on nearly invisible filaments, poised to descend and orbit the positioned body with mechanical precision, while shallow channels scored into the floor hinted at drainage capabilities that seemed unnecessary for mere imaging purposes.
The air inside carried an electrical charge, a static-filled tension that made the fine hairs on one's skin rise in involuntary protest, accompanied by the soft, rhythmic hum of unseen machinery that sounded disturbingly like measured breathing, as if the room itself were a patient predator, waiting for its next unwitting subject to be secured in place for purposes that surely extended beyond simple body scanning.
Missouri couldn't shake the uneasiness that crept through her as she stepped into the imaging room. The stark whiteness—walls, ceiling, floor—created a disorienting sense of boundlessness that made her stomach flutter.
"Do you think my boobs are too small?" Missouri asked, her fingers nervously plucking at the hem of her strappy crop top. The question wasn't really about her breasts; it was about everything else she couldn't articulate—the fear, the anticipation, the desperate need for reassurance. “Ms. Lindsay said my boobs are small.”
Blanca dropped a pink gym bag on the floor at Missouri’s feet. "Your boobs are perfect. You are perfect. You're sleek in an athletic way. Beautiful."
Missouri's eyes darted to the polished steel poles extending from the floor to the ceiling, the clear plastic restraint straps anchored to the floor. "It's very white in here." Her voice faltered slightly.
"You'll be fine, babe. Are you ready? Take off your clothes," Blanca instructed, her tone leaving no room for hesitation despite its gentleness. “I’ll need to get you situated on the imaging frame.”
Missouri had prepared for the imaging process as Blanca had prescribed. She had shaved every hair below of her neck. Additionally, she had tucked her thick, long brunette tresses up into a white latex swim cap.
Missouri pulled her crop top over her head with trembling fingers, revealing her small, firm breasts. The room's temperature seemed to drop the moment her skin was exposed. "It's a little chilly in here," she observed, watching as Blanca methodically folded the garment and tucked it away in the gym bag.
Goosebumps spread across Missouri's flesh, and she crossed her arms instinctively before dropping them when she caught Blanca's expectant gaze. "My nipples seem to be standing out," she murmured, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks despite their long intimacy.
"That's perfect. Take off your pants too." Blanca's eyes gleamed with approval, causing a flutter in Missouri's chest that momentarily overshadowed her anxiety.
“The robots will be very nipple-y, I guess,” Missouri said, trying to seem relaxed.
Missouri's fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans. She couldn't help glancing at the cart in the corner, draped with a sterile sheet that did nothing to disguise the angular shapes beneath—implements she couldn't identify but could certainly fear. "This room is making me anxious," she admitted, stepping out of her jeans with awkward movements.
Blanca took the jeans, folding them with precise motions. "You'll be fine. Your panties too, please." Her voice remained steady, a counterpoint to Missouri's growing nervousness.
Standing nearly naked now, Missouri felt even more disoriented by the room's pristine whiteness. With no visual anchors, the boundaries between walls and ceiling seemed to blur. "I feel like I'm in a cloud and I might fall through," she whispered, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her simple cotton underwear.
Blanca's eyes softened slightly as she watched Missouri's vulnerability bloom like a night flower. "You'll feel more grounded when I strap you in, love," she promised, reaching out to brush a strand of dark hair that had escaped the swim cap back from Missouri's face.
Missouri stepped out of her panties, now completely naked in the endless white, waiting for the restraints.
"Get on your hands and knees," Blanca instructed.
Missouri complied immediately, lowering herself onto all fours. "This room is so clean," she observed nervously, fingers splaying against the padded white floor. "And new… Has this place ever been used before?"
Blanca didn't answer immediately. Instead, she knelt beside Missouri. She felt Blanca's hands touch her right wrist securing a clear plastic band around it. A moment later, with a soft click, it was anchored to the floor.
"Yes," Blanca finally responded, moving to Missouri's left wrist to repeat the process. "One other person has been through this procedure." The second band clicked into place, and Missouri tested her restraints, finding her hands now firmly secured to the floor, arms unable to lift.
The restriction sent a flutter of excitement through Missouri's core, mingling with her nervousness. Blanca's hands traced a path up Missouri's arms to her shoulders, then down her spine, the casual possessiveness of the touch making Missouri's breath catch in her throat.
"Who?" Missouri managed to ask as Blanca moved behind her, those skilled hands now wrapping clear straps behind her knees.
Blanca tightened the knee restraints methodically, securing them to anchor points on the floor. "Me," she revealed, her voice matter-of-fact yet intimate. "I was the first test subject."
Missouri's eyes widened at this disclosure, imagining Blanca in this same position—bound, vulnerable… Maybe Lindsay, with her shifting tattoo, was appraising Blanca’s naked body. The mental image was so unexpected and, oddly, arousing that Missouri barely noticed when Blanca moved to her ankles until she felt the cool plastic encircling them.
"You never told me," Missouri whispered as the ankle straps tightened, completing her bondage. She was now thoroughly secured on all fours, knees and ankles anchored firmly to the floor, unable to rise or move away. The complete restriction of movement sent a surge of heat through her body, pooling low in her belly.
Blanca's hand traced the curve of Missouri's hip. Despite her nervousness about the imaging process, she couldn't deny the liquid heat of arousal spreading through her as Blanca's hands continued their possessive exploration of her immobilized body.
Missouri’s shoulders shifted ever so slightly as she tested the give in the prison of clear plastic that cinched her to the padded floor. The material was warm now from her own heat, digging just enough into her wrists and ankles to remind her they were not going anywhere. The smallest tug toward freedom made the straps nip, and she felt her cheeks warm—not only because resistance was futile, but because somewhere deep down, she liked that futility.
"Are you comfortable?" Blanca's hands resting lightly on Missouri's lower back, fingertips creating small circles of warmth against her bare skin.
"Yes," Missouri answered, feeling her pulse quicken at Blanca's touch.
"Good. I wanted to explain more about the project," Blanca continued, her fingers tracing slowly up Missouri's spine. "This new line will be revolutionary—they're what we're calling 'squishy' robots. They won’t be cold, metallic things. Rather, they'll look human, feel human... respond like humans."
Missouri watched as Blanca moved to the side and retrieved something from a nearby table. Returning to stand in front of her, Blanca aligned a short pole into a slot in the floor, the metal clicking as it locked into place. At the top of the pole was what appeared to be a curved metal piece with dental impressions.
"This is a mouth guard," Blanca explained, adjusting it to align perfectly with Missouri's face. "I need you to open wide and bite down firmly. We need to capture the unique structure of your mouth."
Missouri hesitated only long enough to draw in one more slow breath, then parted her lips as far as they would go, leaning slightly forward until her front teeth caught the inner surface. Blanca’s hand settled under her chin, steadying her as she eased her bite into place. The guard gave a sudden gentle squish, a crest of pliant claylike material rising between her teeth and gums. It pressed firmly but not painfully, molding to every contour, a strangely intimate invasion.
"Perfect," Blanca praised. "For robots to truly pass as human, we need to account for every detail—including the inside of the mouth. The soft palate, tongue position, teeth alignment. Every unique aspect."
Missouri watched with widening eyes as Blanca produced a smooth, slender metal tube. "Now, I need to insert this through the guard," she explained, her tone matter-of-fact but her eyes holding Missouri's with intensity. "It will help us image the interior structure of your mouth."
The tube slid through an opening in the mouth guard, cool metal sliding across Missouri's tongue. She felt her heart rate increase, a mixture of anxiety and unexpected arousal building within her.
"This might feel unusual," Blanca warned, her thumb hovering over a small button on the exterior portion of the device. "Ready?"
Missouri attempted a small nod, but the mouth guard didn’t allow her head to move, so she grunted affirmatively.
When Blanca pressed the button, the tube began to expand slowly inside Missouri's mouth, pressing her tongue down and filling more space with each passing second. Missouri felt her breathing quicken through her nose, her body responding to the vulnerable position and the intrusion.
Attempting to communicate her swirling emotions, Missouri tried to speak, but with her mouth filled and her tongue immobilized, only a muffled groan emerged. Blanca's lips curved into a knowing smile, watching her struggle with perfect calm.
Missouri’s pulse was hammering now. Bound, gagged, and perfectly still, she could do nothing but let Blanca shape her exactly as she wished.
Blanca’s footsteps sounded unhurried on the padded floor as she moved around behind Missouri. She couldn’t turn her head to watch, but she pictured the cool sharpness of Blanca’s gaze, counting every contour, every subtle shift of muscle beneath Missy’s taut, bare skin.
“Oh, god! Love, you are so beautiful,” Blanca murmured, her voice low and thick with ownership. Missy responded with an involuntary moan from her throat.
Blanca moved slowly, circling closer. “Everyone says that you are beautiful. Everyone knows how beautiful you are. Everybody wants you.” Her fingers trailed slowly along Missy’s flank, stopping just before her breast, not touching it, only letting the air between them spark.
Missy shuddered and breathed out a muffled, needy sound. She could feel the way Blanca was studying her.
“But you are mine,” Blanca said simply, the edge of possession clean and undeniable. “And I will keep you and cherish you forever.”
Missy let her eyes close for a moment, surrendering into those words, into the quiet dominance braided through every syllable. She heard the sound of metal on metal—subtle but distinct—as something was fixed in place behind her. A faint vibration through the floor told her Blanca was installing something.
“We are going to make hundreds… thousands! of robots that look and talk like you,” Blanca continued, as though confiding a secret dream. “But,” she added with a small chuckle, “I will have the original. The template.”
The sharp click of a final adjustment made Missy’s pulse rise. She shifted against her bonds, the movement small and tight.
“You will be so valuable,” Blanca went on, a hand smoothing over the small of Missy’s back, pressing lightly to deepen her arch. “I will need to keep you safe. I promise that I will love you and give you everything you need for all time.”
Missy’s moan came out soft but rich-voiced, a promise back to her Mistress.
“You will be spoiled,” Blanca said, “like a precious pet.” Her palm briefly cupped Missy’s hip before sliding away, the retreat as calculated as the touch itself. “I like the way you look on all fours.”
Missy felt the deliberate inspection as Blanca stepped behind her, adjusting her stance, looking from different angles.
“I like the way your breasts hang and the way your back arches,” she continued, voice dropping almost to a purr. “The shape of your waist and hips…”
Missy’s skin prickled as she heard the faint squeeze of a tube opening, followed by the warm, unmistakable sensation of a generous amount of lubrication being pressed between her cheeks. She made a startled, muffled grunt, her hands instinctively tugging at the clear bands that secured her wrists.
Blanca’s hand was gentle, massaging the slickness until it spread evenly, then pressing with steady ease. Missy inhaled sharply against her gag as the tip of a cool metal buttplug breached her, the glide impossibly smooth. Its bulbous portion settled inside with a familiarity that almost made her laugh. Despite the tension in her bonds, she eased into the intrusion, recognizing that perfect size and weight - just like Heater.
It sat inside her now like it had always belonged there. She moaned again, long and low, her eyes finding the floor.
Blanca’s hand rested briefly on her lower back, almost affectionate, almost praising. Missouri attempted to twist her head back, but the mouth guard quickly stopped that effort. She then involuntarily attempted to pull her head back, only to feel the press of the buttplug holding her in position from behind. She couldn’t move in any direction now.
Missouri's body tensed as she heard Blanca moving behind her, the subtle sounds of equipment being manipulated sending anticipatory shivers down her spine. Missouri could only wait, vulnerable and exposed on all fours.
"Maybe I will turn you into my little cherished puppy," Blanca mused, her voice carrying that familiar tone of affectionate domination that always made Missouri's heart race. "And I will feed you and pet you and keep you on a leash."
A warm finger traced slowly up the inside of Missouri's thigh, collecting the evidence of her arousal. The touch was deliberate, possessive, making Missouri acutely aware of how her body betrayed her deepest desires.
"My happy, loyal little puppy girl," Blanca continued, her words floating through the sterile air of the imaging room.
Missouri felt something firm and rounded pressing against her sex. The dildo's tip teased her entrance before Blanca began to push it inside with methodical patience. Missouri's body trembled as it penetrated her, filling her completely. With nowhere to retreat, secured as she was to the floor, she could only accept what Blanca gave her, a muffled moan escaping past her gag.
"Or maybe you should be like a cat! Cats are sexy!" Blanca suggested, her voice brightening. "And you are so much more sexy than some goofy dog."
The dildo shifted slightly as Blanca leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss at the base of Missouri's spine. The contrast between the unyielding fullness between her legs and the tender touch of Blanca's lips made Missouri shudder with desire.
"My pussy! My neko!" Blanca's voice held a note of delight as another kiss landed higher up Missouri's back.
Missouri's limbs strained against their restraints, not in resistance but in the instinctive response to the pleasure building within her. The plugs prevented any movement of her pelvis, keeping her perfectly positioned for Blanca's attentions.
"But your voice is so beautiful and you play the piano so well," Blanca contemplated, her lips continuing their journey upward along Missouri's spine. "Maybe you will be a pet bird."
Each kiss sent electric currents through Missouri's body. She trembled, her muscles wanting to give out, held up only by the restraints that bound her.
"I'll keep you in a cage with a swing that hangs from the ceiling. And you can hum melodies all day."
Blanca's lips reached between Missouri's shoulder blades, her breath warm against Missouri's skin.
"No, Missouri," Blanca said, her tone shifting to something more serious, more intimate. "You are too unique to be just a puppy or a pussy or a bird."
"Close your eyes," Blanca commanded softly, and Missouri complied immediately, darkness enveloping her already limited world.
The cool sensation of tape being pressed over her eyelashes followed, pressing against her upper cheeks, and when Missouri tried, she could not open her eyes, sealing her in complete darkness. The deprivation heightened every other sense—the fullness between her legs, her stoppered mouth, the lingering warmth where Blanca's lips had touched her skin, the sound of Blanca's measured breathing.
"You will be a new kind of pet. Something this world has never seen before," Blanca whispered, her voice closer now, perhaps near Missouri's ear. "And you will be mine forever and always."
Missouri's body responded with another wave of desire, her muscles clenching around the intrusions inside her.
"My Missouri," Blanca concluded, the possessiveness in those two simple words conveying volumes about their relationship—the trust, the power exchange, the deep connection that allowed for these moments of complete surrender.
Despite her trembling and her breath whistling through her nose, despite being bound, filled, blindfolded, and gagged, Missouri had never felt more cherished.
“Okay, babe,” Blanca whispered. “You are all set. The imaging will take about twenty minutes.” Missouri felt Blanca’s lips graze the space between her shoulder blades one final time. “Try to stay still as possible.”
Missouri heard Blanca stand and soon after, the sound of the door closing. Next she heard the sound of machinery moving around near her, hydraulics, the whir of electric motors. She felt subtle vibrations in all the areas where the sensors penetrated her. She tried to keep her breathing under control. She tried to imagine what it would be like to see a room full of gynoids that looked exactly like herself.
Despite her position, she started to drift into a dream state and in it she looked up from her hands and knees to see Blanca and Lindsay standing over her smiling, gently tugging on her leash.