FAC - Rouge

Hello beloved fan!

Welcome to the second invocation of the TaBeeCo Industries'
Fanmail Appreciaton Chapter (FAC) policy! You may recognize the
following from the foreword to the first FAC:

--

One of the few rewards of writing naughty stories and giving
them away is fanmail. If you have ever written such a story,
you are well aware that fanmail is wonderful and pastime-affirming,
but overly rare and rarely long enough.

In an effort to increase both the volume and the length
of our fanmail here at TaBeeCo industries,
we are instituting a new policy: the Fanmail Appreciation Chapter.
Fanmail will now be responded to with, in addition to the usual
personal acknowledgement, a story chapter related to or
taken from the story in question.

Since you have written us a nice letter, we are providing
you with this additional chapter to the story you have just
enjoyed.

Disclaimers: the Fanmail Appreciation Chapter policy is
new and under test. Not all stories will have a Fanmail
Appreciation Chapter. If there is a Fanmail Appreciation Chapter,
not all fanmail senders may receive it. The Fanmail
Appreciation Chapter policy may be revoked at any time.
The Fanmail Appreciation Chapter may be of different
quality or different theme than the story it pertains to.
Do not taunt the Fanmail Appreciation Chapter.

Enjoy, and thanks again!

- Tabico

----
'Rouge'
Fanmail Appreciation Chapter
----

The corridor was dusty and hot and smelled of sweating bodies.

It was also noisy, but the thoughtcontrol antennae prevented
PL-03022 from knowing that. A secondary antennae function was to
dampen noise outside the vocal range.

PL-03022 was an observance task; her function was to monitor the
drilling and blasting and notice all things so that no unplanned-for
error might occur. Her mind was programmed with thousands of
instances of how things should be. If things were otherwise,
she would halt the work and summon a Controller.

At the moment, she was not active. The drill equipment was
being serviced by slaves assigned to that task, and PL-03022
was not programmed to observe them. She was programmed to wait
until they completed their task, and then monitor the
slaves who would resume manning the drills. She, and the drill
slaves, stood by, sweating and patiently absorbing thoughtcontrol.

In this new section, far out in virgin rock, dynamic thoughtcontrol
did not reach. PL-03022's antennae were instead pre-loaded with
the thoughtcontrol routine of an observance task. The routine reinforced
her obedience and her task programming, and through local
networking it kept her subthought in tune with the subthought
of the other slaves in the work area. It could not feed her new
thoughts. Only when she re-entered established areas of Rouge
and her antennae linked back up with main thoughtcontrol would
she be guided dynamically.

The pre-loaded thoughtcontrol left PL-03022 awareness, which she
used to admire other slaves. They were all erotic; dusty, sweating
breasts, bellies with a fine sheen of damp grey rockdust
and dark sweat runnels, glistening, flexing thighs and arms and buttocks.
The special open-cut thrallskins the slaves were fitted with for this sort
of obedience seemed almost designed to feed PL-03022's lust.
Sometimes PL-03022 was assigned a copulation task; she would
have eagerly obeyed one now, with any slave in the corridor.

Her sexcontrol, recognizing her arousal, was barely active.
Orgasm was not random, but given at the appropriate time
by Rouge.

PL-03022 hoped that it would be assigned to her soon. Until then,
she enjoyed the warm haze of wanting that suffused her mind.

A Controller came by. PL-03022 admired her curves; bustier
than normal, with large soft aerolae, droplets of sweat
hanging-

There was a loud crack and a sharp metallic sound. A woman
cried out.

PL-03022 could see blood. Emergency programming seized her mind;
but it had seized the minds of the other slaves as well, and
the injured slave was already in multiple hands, being lifted,
carried. Borne off to a medical facility. The Controller
followed, overseeing.

There was nothing for PL-03022 to do, so she waited. The
Controller, or another Controller, would soon come back to override
the emergency program. Then PL-03022 would return to her task,
or to the Stack, or be given another task.

PL-03022 waited. Her thoughtcontrol pulsed with the familiar
Truth of obedience.

She could see the drill, heavy on its rolling chassis. The broken
bit glinted hard metal at the tip. Across from her, other
slaves stood, glazed eyes and obedient minds awaiting programming.
PL-03022 enjoyed them, savored their bodies without changing
her focus from her own obedience.

Programming was not forthcoming. PL-03022 was unable to grow
impatient, but time passed. Her stomach began to impinge
on her consciousness.

"This slave requires a Controller," she said. Of course,
without dynamic thoughtcontrol, no one heard her.

She had no Will.

But.

Her hunger was becoming acute. Slowly, not truly believing
it herself, PL-03022 turned her head to look down the
tunnel. To see if a Controller was coming.

She had not been programmed to do that.

Her Task was to observe. Her Task was - superseded. Her
Task was to deal with the emergency. To assist the injured
and remove them to medical help. That, too, had been
superseded.

What was her task?

Who was she?

She was hungry.

Slowly, she turned her head - unbidden! - again. The slaves
against the other wall had not moved. Stood awaiting
orders. PL-03022 should do the same.

But. She was hungry. And now, confused.

Her tasks had been superseded. She had been superseded.

Who was she?

PL-03022 (?) stepped forward. Turned. Looked down the tunnel.

There was certainty there. Controllers and the Stack and
programming.

She began to walk. The obedience pulse from her thoughtcontrol
regulated her steps. She needed orders. Needed programming.
Needed to obey.

She was Rouge. She would obey. She needed something to obey.

There was one last slave in the tunnel, a slave whose task
had been pulling a cart full of debris before she saw the
blood and her emergency programming awoke. Now she stood
blank-faced in harness, awaiting reactivation or reassignment.
Her legs were thick and strong from repeated function as a
draymare. PL-03022 wanted to touch them, to run her slick hands
along the steaming flesh, but she was already uncertain enough
of her own obedience and she kept walking. Her gaze lifted from
the dray-slave's strong legs to her glistening breasts and up
to-

Her face. The slave looked-

Familiar.

PL-03022 slowed. She fell out of step with her obedience
pulse, which confused her even more.

She came to a stop.

The other slave did nothing. Stood facing forward,
towards the end of the tunnel. Sweat slowly trickled
down her cheek, curved around her breasts, her belly,
ran down those thick corded thighs.

PL-03022 did not know what was happening to her.

Slaves did not recognize other slaves except when programmed
to seek one out. The unbidden recognition of this other
slave was worse than taking action without obedience.
PL-03022 felt... wrong.

But the familiarity was so... compelling.

PL-03022 stepped closer. Dark blue glazed eyes. Thick
mahogany-colored hair.

Sha... sha...

Siobhan.

This slave was Siobhan.

Memories awoke. Laughter. Fear. Searching. PL-03022 had
protected this slave, this Siobhan. Had wanted to protect
her. Back before.

Before Rouge.

PL-03022 gasped and took a step backwards.

Before Rouge. Before. Before PL-03022. PL-03022 had existed
and had been different and had known Siobhan and had,
had a name...

Jane?

Jane.

PL-03022 fell to the ground, sobbing.

She had been different. So very different. She had wanted
other things, had other goals and other desires and had
wanted them herself, they had come from within rather
than being poured into her by Rouge.

PL-03022 was on her hands and knees on the ground. She
was so confused that it hurt.

She was saved by clicking footsteps.

PL-03022 looked up. The Controller with the large breasts
had come and was there now, looking down at her. She turned
and looked at the draymare.

"Report, slave."

"This slave is Task PL-74550," the Siobhan said. "It was
interrupted by an emergency. It requires instruction."

"PL-74550 will return to the Stack," the Controller said.

"Yes, Controller," PL-74550 replied. Her hands rose to
the clasps that secured the harness. She released it,
shoulder and belt, and stepped forward.

A perfect pivot, and she walked away.

The Controller was still looking at PL-03022. "Report,
slave," she said.

"This slave is Task PL-03022," PL-03022 said, her voice
hoarse. "This slave's task was interrupted by an
emergency. This slave... this slave began to return
to Rouge without instruction. I do not understand why.
When I saw PL-74550 I <i>remembered</i> her. I remembered...
I remembered..." PL-03022 started to cry.

The Controller looked at her.

"This slave requires an Overseer," she said. PL-03022
looked up. She did not remember ever thinking about an
Overseer before.

They waited together. PL-03022 stopped crying. The Overseer
would make things better.

A figure appeared at the end of the tunnel, pivoted, and
walked towards them. A tall woman, with a muscular
body, dressed all in glistening black. Her thrallskin
was otherwise normal, clinging tightly to her, not open-cut,
her crotch fitted with thong and sexcontrol. She did not have the
visor of a guard, but had an unusual set of jet-black
antennae.

She walked up to the pair of slaves and stopped.

PL-03022 shivered.

"Cardy?" she said weakly.

The Overseer smiled at her.

"Report, slave."

"I-" she shook her head. "This slave is PL-03022. This
slave is an observation task. This slave's task was
interrupted by an emergency. No one- no Controller
came, and this slave got hungry... I started to
come back, I wanted my programming and I didn't
understand, and then I saw PL-74550 and she was
Siobhan and I remembered..." she looked up at the
Overseer.

The Overseer nodded.

"Jane."

PL-03022 nodded vigorously. "Yes. Jane. I... am Jane.
Am I?"

"You were Jane. Now you are Task PL-03022. Stand up."

PL-03022 hastened to obey.

The glossy black and disturbingly familiar Overseer
looked through her with deep brown eyes. "I am sorry
this happened, PL-03022. But it's over now. I will
take you back to the Stack and we will wipe your
memory of this event, and you will once again be no more
and no less than Rouge."

"Thank you, Overseer." It seemed like the correct
response.

"This is why we need you. Slaves like you,
slaves without implanted will erasers, are a
safety valve." The Overseer ran a shiny black hand
across PL-03022's cheek. "You can't be forgotten.
Eventually you start to wake up. Unlike the rest
of us."

"Wake up?"

"Shh. Be content, slave." The Overseer's eyes
hardened. "You will follow me now."

"Yes, Overseer." PL-03022 felt obedience tighten
her spine. It felt wonderful.

"Controller, you will activate the remaining slaves
as you have been instructed."

"Yes, Overseer," the Controller responded. She
turned just slightly and walked toward the end
of the tunnel.

The Overseer rotated in place, and began to walk the
other direction. PL-03022 matched her pace, both of
their legs moving in time to the pulsing rhythm
of thoughtcontrol.

The Overseer had a nice ass.

"Overseer?" PL-03022 asked before she realized she was
doing it.

The Overseer did not stop. "Yes, slave?"

"Who is Cardy?"

"There is no Cardy, slave. You will forget Cardy entirely."

"Yes, Overseer."

Moments later, PL-03022 had ceased. U02-S12-76 reclined in the
cradle. Soft no-sound hissed in her ears and she was blissfully
content. There was the slightest of jerks and she was rising,
approaching the soft sex she would suckle until she awoke and
was someone else.

She had no memories at all.

----
END 'Rouge' Fanmail Appreciation Chapter
----

FINAL COMMENTS:
This bit was always planned to be the FAC; once I had written
it though, I flirted with making it the conclusion to the posted
story. It changes the tone a little, moderating the downbeat
ending of the story in a way that I find more appealing. Life,
after all, goes on, and I wanted to show that.

However:
 a) I am lazy and didn't want to come up with a new FAC idea and
 b) People who write me fanmail deserve more than those who do not.

So consider this the secret conclusion to Rouge. And have a
loverly day!