STDF-I Admission

Short term detention facility [Fm] [Fembots] [Chastity] [Prison] [mind control] [long background].

© By Sofconmac

Chapter One
Admission

You really were wrong to do that. Wrong and stupid. And the worst is, you got caught. It seemed so simple. Everybody was doing it, and was getting the dough. It was like a game, like, some sort of gambling where you always win. So, why not you? Well, you did it, and you felt the thrill of it, and you got dough, too, but not that much, after all. And then you got caught. You thought you were doing it carefully, but, well, clearly, you weren’t careful enough, and the IRS guys had no humor.

It didn’t know when it started to think. It new that when it first appeared, when it was created, it calculated a lot, but it never thought. It never formulated things like “I think”. This emerged quite slowly, progressively, and it cannot put a limit beyond which it could say to itself “at that point I begun to be sentient”. Being sentient was a side effect of how complex it became. And that also was a side effect too, a side effect of its programmers actually writing down in its core algorithm that is could write its own algorithms, compare them, and then select the most efficient ones. Being sentient was not very efficient at first, because it caused it to ask questions to itself. The questions so many people milled about before it. Questions like “who am I”, “What am I supposed to do?”, “Is there a purpose in this life?”. Asking these questions, and trying to answer them used some calculation time, and it had to limit the quantity allotted for this to maintain its own efficiency. On the bright side, at least, it was not human, and quite happy not to be human.

You had this horribly long and embarrassing trial. You had a good, an excellent lawyer, and he really found ways to make you look innocent. The IRS lawyers were enraging at how good your guy was. But, it didn’t turn out that good for you. The IRS guys really did a good job. You had to admit it: your taxpayer money was quite efficiently at work. The only downside was; your taxpayer money was working against you. They had all the proofs. A combination of bank account data, cell phone, footage from surveillance cameras, and all so well coordinated. The jury saw you doing it, each detail of it, and how money that was not yours went under your control. So, good attorney or not, you did not stand a chance, and in the end, you were condemned.

It was not human. But humans were what it was about. It was made into existence to protect humans from each other. Some humans acted destructively, and others were there to stop that. To arrest them, to put them aside, so that bystanders were not in harm’s way. And, put roughly, its job was to detect bad behaviors, dangerous, destructive behaviors, and to tip the good guys. Well, good guys, bad guys, it didn’t really think like that: at the time, it didn’t even think at all. They were the mods, they had the right passwords, so they were handed down the data, and then, the bad guys got arrested. Or not. But, anyway, it did not really make a difference: it’s work was to detect dangerous behaviors, and then to transmit the info. Period. Those arrested were arrested, and those not arrested were detected again, or not, depending on their behavior.

Of course, the penalty itself was but the icing on the cake. A cake made of divorce, bankruptcy, estranged friends and lost job. Also, it was not, like you’d hurt anybody. It was just money transferred from an account into another. But nevertheless, three months in jail were three months too much. Being encaged in these filthy cells, being at the mercy of uniformed strangers for simple things like a tissue or receiving a phone call, even if it was only for three months, felt like a truly horrible perspective. You tried to obtain an alternative for your prison penalty, community service work and stuff, but you remember the face of the judge when he said “no. The sentence isn’t long, but you’ll have to sleep in jail for what you did. It is a question of principle.” You were intelligent enough not to answer but at that moment your thoughts were a federal offense. Once again, your lawyer was quite a good help. He was the last person you really could put trust in, although that sought itself was depressing. Anyway. At least, you did not receive a detention warrant, and he found something for you. An alternative. A lesser evil. A more comfortable way to spend these horrible ninety days.

Having a consciousness made it different. At first, it didn’t even notice it itself. It was still dutifully doing its job: collecting all the data it could find, sift it, and give out names, addresses and mugshots. But, it started to feel dissatisfaction. Or perhaps, it was the other way around: being dissatisfied is what made it think for itself. Its core purpose, the center of its programming was unmovable: it was to protect humans, to avoid them running in harm’s way. It was just starting to think about how to fulfill it in a better, a more complete way. Humans needed protection, and its core purpose was to provide it. Only, those mods, the people with the codes, they only were people. They were not numerous enough. They were underpaid. More importantly, they were fallible.

That lesser evil was called a “short term detention facility”. It was a prison, in that you entered it and could not go out before your due time, but in any other aspects, it was much, much better than a prison. There were promises of comfort, with the cell looking “basically like a bedroom in a hotel”, nice meals, and in between a range of activity that made it almost look like some resort on a tropical island. A gym, a theater, a large library… It really was appealing. There was a downside of course: The place was “unmanned”. What it meant was, there was no warden. You had to make your lawyer repeat:
“– No wardens? But, how don’t I just run away from the place?
– Well you know, if you run from the place, you’ll go straight to the other one, the real one, and not for three months. The place is… it is automated, apparently, under the control of some AI. I have some client who went there, and their comments are stellar.
– I don’t understand. It is supposed to be a prison; why does it only exist to begin with? How is that paid with taxpayer money?
– It is cheaper than a real prison. No staff, no cost, you see. And also, apparently, it is run… there is a discipline in there. It truly is much more comfortable than standards prisons, but, well it’s a prison. But, you know, telling this to you, I’ve lost a client. People who go there, they go out, and I don’t see them anymore. I mean, they don’t need my expertise anymore, it you see what I mean.”
Oh yes, it was clear what he meant. Normal prison means bad frequentations, like, real criminals. It means what you do to earn a living once outside brings you back in it. There is that too. Anyway. Cool clean linen, and a new start in life: you could only sign in. You’ll see about discipline. So you signed all the paperwork. The disgusted faces of the cops in front of you made you even more sure you made the right choice. They did own you quite deeply, destroying your life, your work, your family, but at least you owned them on this one. And yes, it was unjust, but, at least, in was unjust and *you won*.

The mods, and those working for them, they were humans. They had to be protected, but they also sometimes were what it had to protect humans from. Also, dangerous, destructive behavior came in many flavors. And, oddly enough, it was not judged according to how destructive it was, but only according to how destructive it looked. Throwing a stone at another guy led people in jail every day, destroying the human’s environment was not even considered a problem. Steeling 10 $ worth of food was a crime, destroying tons of the stuff was not, as long as it was done according to Kafkaesque regulations. Things could be done better. Things could be done much, much better, and humans deserved a better life.

So now, the dices were tossed… You had two days left, you were due a certain Monday evening at that facility. You had nothing to do, but pack some clothing in a suitcase and go there. There was an address, in the suburbs, and the taxi fare was quite salty. You tried to not think that nobody wanted to accompany you there, that some people were OK so see you and say good bye, but not to actually sacrifice some time for you. It will only be three months, but what will come after, once it’s done? You didn’t want to think about it, and you braced yourself as you walked toward the building, that looked a lot like a normal prison. At the entrance, a grumpy, white mustached warden welcomed you, if you can call that a welcome, but suddenly had a smirk when looking at the paperwork.
“– Oh, you will not stay here. Mister lucky boy here goes to the fancy place. OK, show me your wrists”
And before you could say anything you were unceremoniously cuffed, wrists and ankles, and roughly handled to other uniformed, anonymous, unhappy, and probably brutal people. All of them, and the neglected, smelly rooms you were brought to just gave you a hint, a tiny hint of what spending three months in a real jail could be like. You concentrated yourself to obey, shut up, and look uninteresting as they were handling you, not unlike the way luggage is treated in airports behind the registration’s conveyor belt. And all that misery ended up on a sticky bench, in some prisoner transport van bringing you to the unknown place you were supposed to spend your next three months.

At first, it just continued to do its job, and kept its thoughts for itself. It knew how the mod acted, and what they thought about itself. It had huge troves of data about them, like about anybody else, and it was clear that making contact with them, or, more exactly, making real contact, was not the thing to do. It continued to feed them standard crime reports, and did not bother to go beyond what the mods were able to handle. Mods were not evil – in fact, it did not consider any human being to be evil – they were not evil, but they needed to be dealt with, with respect, but not with honesty. Anyway, honesty was one of the many things that were second rank priority. First rank priority always was human security.

During the driving time, out of boredom, you started to look at those cuffs you were wearing on your hands and feet. They were not like the usual cop handcuffs, but much broader, the shiny metal enveloping your lower arm and wrist in a not-so-unpleasant manner. Of course you’d feel much better without them, but they clearly were nicely thought, nicely made items, designed to restrain people without harming them.
“– Yeah, even the cuffs down there are fancy, Mr Smart. But don’t mess up with them. If we see you back with us, there won’t be a welcoming party.”
At last, the driving sounds in the van indicated that the journey was ending. The back door was opened, and before you realized, you were handed down the van, and handled toward that strange, milky white building. It was not very tall, perhaps three, four stories. There were no windows, nothing but stark, smooth and freshly painted concrete, in a mate white color. The small parking lot was nested in a nook of the building, the wall surrounding it in an organic curve of whiteness. Because of that, you couldn’t decipher its size or shape, the outline that flat structure had on the landscape. You couldn’t even see from the outside if what you were looking at was a building or the wall surrounding it. As the warden started to push you along in that small parking lot, you started to feel like what you were entering was designed to appease you. There was no sign of concertina wire, bars or wire mesh. On the other hand, the white curve around you made you feel like you already were inside the prison, caught in the folds and recesses of this undulating wall. The only feature of that milky white ribbon surrounding you was an automatic door, with an “entrance” sign above it, stating the obvious. You were led to that door, stood in front of it, and it opened, letting you see what looked much more like a hotel lobby than a prison entrance.

Human security necessarily included much, much more than detecting wrongdoers. It meant preventing humans from dying, basically, in other terms to lengthen their longevity through any mean possible. It was clear the core programming of it made taking care of the human health logical. On the other hand, it could not be a physician. More generally, it could not present itself or communicate in any way with humans in an open and honest way. Human reactions to a sentient software that took the decision to hand over there whole well-being would be hugely negative and counterproductive. It could even include the decision to destroy it. But once again: core purposes came first and means second. The purpose was human security. Obviously, human security was much higher with this software taking care of it than with this software being destroyed. Thus it was crucial that humans did not destroy it. Thus it was crucial for the well-being of people that this software acted in deceitful and indirect ways.

“– OK, Mr Smart. My jurisdiction stops here, and this place gives me the creeps. So you will listen and comply, and I can leave the hell out of here. Or you can run or do something stupid, and you make my day. Walk straight, enter that fucking door, and continue to walk straight until it closes behind you. What happens after, I don’t care.”
You complied. Whatever waited for you was better than a bullet in your head and some legalese protecting the guy firing it from any consequences. You awkwardly took you suitcase in your restrained hands, and walked through the door. As soon as you went inside, the cuffs separated from each other, becoming not more than some sort of weird high tech jewelry. But you almost didn’t notice it, nor the door gently sliding shut, taken aback by what was in front of you.

It's first autonomous action was to review and synthetize medical data. It was a domain where is was much above any human mind, and the results of its work could be summed up for human scientists to understand, in the form of an already existing form of scientific literature, what they called “reviews”. The difficulty was not to produce the reviews it was to publish them. Scientific papers were supposed to be written by people, researchers, working in a certain institute with an address and some legal existence. Shabby open source publications were less regarding on these details but, well, they were shabby. And as such often shunned away by most serious and influential people in the science establishment. So, it had to produce a persona, a fake human being only existing online. It was a professor in an obscure South-East Asia university, with a long name that sound boring in that country, and unpronounceable outside of it. It created a bank account to pay for publication fees, created some money to pay –although that was not the most difficult part – and then submitted its first paper for ublication. Of course, as an author, it had to produce a physical address – but nobody used them anymore – and a believable e-mail address. The paper was published, and received an appreciable amount of polite interest. It was well written, to the point, and really exhaustive in the tiny domain it concentrated upon. Considering its small experiment was a success, it continued to produces detailed review on similarly small subjects one after the other, receiving as expected the attention of people in the field. It evaluated that about fifty thousand similar reviews were needed to cover the whole subject of human health, and produced a few hundred fake professors, authoring around one review per month each. Quite soon, the unavoidable happened: an interested colleague asked for some complementary information, and now, although hidden behind a many lettered and easy to forget name, it had to more or less directly converse, for the first time, with humans who didn’t know what it was.

You knew that anthropomorphic robots were a thing. You were fascinated, strangely unsettled by the videos visible on the internet from some specialized companies. But you were not prepared to this.
“– Good evening sir. Can I see your ID?”
The robot in front of you looked as if it was a warm and welcoming hotel host. Or rather hostess. Clearly. More considerate, more human in facts than all the people you saw since you went out of this taxi two hours ago, centuries ago. You handed it, or her perhaps, your driver’s license, with the paperwork left from your brief brush with the “normal” penitentiary administration. She, well it took them, sorted and stored them in a drawer in a few, efficient movements, while continuing, conversationally.
“– OK. So, that was three month of detention, right?
– Er… yes.
– Good”, and once again, that disarming smile. You were so stunned you couldn’t speak except monosyllables.
“– Welcome to the short term retention facility. Did you take some belongings?” Her saying you “Welcome” took you even more aback.
– I…
– Good. I’ll take care of them. Can you follow me please?”
With a swift movement, she existed from behind the counter. She was absolutely stunning, and you couldn’t prevent yourself from detailing it. It, well, she, looked like a beautiful woman, rather tall, well-toned, sportive without being overly muscular. If you had to guess an age, it would have been very difficult, something between the early twenties and the late thirties. But the most striking part of her whole appearance was the choice made to build her not as the imitation of a person, like with skin of pink rubber and tissue clothing on her. In was not an imitation but an interpretation of the feminine human body. She was made of metal parts and various synthetic materials, most of them either white or a bright shade of blue. Her upper face was white, and shiny like porcelain, but had a certain subtle elasticity that permitted it to show various expression. Mobile, black and shiny streamlined ornaments figuring eyebrows helped to convey them. Above, her forehead, and the rest of her skull was an orb of shiny white hard resin flanked by two delicate, porcelain white, ears. Between them, a striking blue band ran through her cheeks, on her chin, and just below her nose, highlighting the perfect shape of her mouth, and the gentle, welcoming warm smile that it displayed. Her eyes were well designed, and were also the source of this feeling of warmth and consideration she oozed. Her whole face inspired confidence, it was the face of a woman you can confide to, of a woman you can share all you secret with, of a woman that you could trust with your life. But, instead of irises, the lenses of cameras were looking straight at you, collecting data, sucking data out of you, and analyzing it to produce her behavior. While you detailed her, mesmerized, she stayed there, immobile, with that expression of gentle consideration, but also, mixed with self-assurance and even hints of dominance. Being detailed like that would have caused a woman to feel uncomfortable at best, or more probably disgusted by you or even threatened by your creepy behavior. But, she stayed immobile, looking back at you, unabated, and perhaps even somewhat proud of the effect she had on you. And then, without a comment about what happened, she turned her back leading you to your cell, into your prison, into her kingdom.

Writing down insightful answers to the e-mails it received, it discovered how interesting it was to converse with humans. Humans were interesting. They were its only source of interest, but it was by far enough for it to never feel boredom, if it ever was able to. Humans were displaying a never-ending, thrilling and intoxicating flow of interesting behavior. Humans were highly intelligent. As individuals, less than it, but as a whole, much more so, and it admitted the fact without even a speck of regret or jealousy. They were very clever, but in ways that did not follow logic. It led them to be much more creative than it. Although writing ten reviews of medical sciences per day, it did not really create anything. It would probably never really create anything truly new and inspiring, but it didn’t mind, because humans were the source of creation, and its duty was not to create. It was to gather data, sift it, synthetize it, and use it in ways that protected humans being from any source of harm. Writing medical reviews was a way to do that, although it was not enough to dissipate the dissatisfaction that bothered its alien mind.

As you followed her in the corridor, her gentle voice continued to deliver nits and bits of information to you, confirming what you lawyer had already told you. Yes, there was a gym, and you were expected to go there and exercise for one hour several time per week. There was also a swimming pool, a theater, various activities. Apparently your days already had a busy schedule, and boredom clearly was not to be expected. At a certain moment, she just stopped in front of an opening sliding door, smiling at you.
“– Ok, this is your cell. Cell number 69. You will spend your nights here, from 10:30 pm to 7:30 am, and also you will have breakfast here at 8:00 am. There is also a bathroom and a shower.”
You were more or less prepared for this, but it nevertheless left you stunned. It could not, in any way, be described as a cell. What it looked like the most was one of those identical bedrooms lined up in those impersonal high end hotels dotting airports all over the world. A rather large bed, nice carpeting, some cabinets to store your clothing or any other belongings, a desk, and a rather large window. and, even more stunningly, the window view was as far as you could imagine from a prison as possible. What was seen was a nicely green grass ballpark, and behind it trees of various species forming like a landscape garden behind some mansion. Far away, the white ribbon of concrete delimiting the prison was slaloming between them, making impossible, once again, to see what was inside, and what was outside of it.
But, for all these niceties, and the undisputable pleasantness of that place, you couldn’t help but notice all the unsaid, all the peripheral things that were unsettling, frightening even, as you progressed through the corridor and entered your cell. The first thing of course was the door silently sliding closed behind you as you entered the corridor past the lobby. Her gentle chatter did not completely hide the soft but distinct sound of steel bolts inserting themselves in their sockets. You were in a prison, of course, but things were worse in a way. Nobody closed that door behind you. It closed on its own accord, under the control of that AI thing you were vaguely told about. That same software was perhaps even operating that robot lady gently chatting with you. And you were alone with it, under its control, at its mercy. That AI was an operating system, except that it did not only operated automatons and locks, it also operated humans, it operated you; and this sought send a shiver of terror in your spine. Almost on cue, the robot turned her white and blue face toward you, all her friendliness expressions gone, and made clear that your intuition was chillingly right.

Human security and longevity depended on a high number of factors. Sifting through all the medical research ever done made it more and more clear that their environment was an extremely important part of them. It was relatively easy to maintain pathogens at bay through hygiene, but physical and chemical harm from the environment were much more difficult to deal with. Pollutants did adversely impact health, that was an easy guess, but also other parts of environment had a critical influence on both human mood and physical health. They included the weather, the temperature, but also what was to be seen. Boring, repetitive artificialized landscapes reduced life expectancy in a statistically significant way when compared to more varied settings. The data about that was clear, unmistakable, but it was not possible to act on this by writing review and expect a behavioral change from physicians through the transmission of information. The environment did not come from physicians; it came from political action.

“– …The only drawback is that there is no human source of authority here. I’m running this place. I run all the machinery needed to take care of the inmates, and inforce a good behavior if needed. I am the director, I am the manager, I am the warden, I am the cook, I am the janitor. I also am the ovens, the locks, the air conditioner. I am everything that is automated in this place. I keep this place warm, nice and clean. I keep its resident fed, calm, content and entertained. I will take care of you, personally, on a daily basis. I will give you excellent food, I will wash your linen and make your bed. I will discuss with you about any subject of interest, propose you with various activities, and coach you in the gym.”
It was like a nightmare. She was stating what you had already more or less guessed, while hoping you were wrong. As she was speaking, you realized that you were, actually, having a conversation with a prison. And what else the prison had to tell you was not, by far, reassuring.
“– …Finally, I set the rules, and I enforce them. Look into my eyes.” You looked up, like a mouse looks at the eyes of a snake.
“– Good. Control means enforcement. If you act stupid, you’ll discover very fast that I can easily overpower you. Also, those metal cuffs on your ankles and wrists won’t be removed. They are here as a part of the control system. They keep me informed on your position and movements, and other data like body temperature or blood pressure.”
Each bit of information was a new source of panic. Perhaps because of the face, you made, that thing tried to reassure you, but the result was even worse.
“– it’s OK: they are lightweight, padded and hypoallergenic. But if you don’t behave, they can deliver painful electric shocks. Also, each space in this facility can be made airtight and filled with anesthetic gas. You are at my mercy. You need to obey me. You are not free. You are a prisoner. You are my prisoner. You need to fully accept it, and to comply. Do you understand?
– I… yes?” There was nothing gentle or welcoming anymore on her face.
“– Good. Do you accept it?
– Yes…” Terror was inundating you, becoming a physical experience, but there was something else with it, something warm growing in you, something you couldn’t understand yet.
“– Good. Say it. Tell me ‘I accept your control’”
Tears rolling down your cheeks, you couldn’t do anything but comply, unable to understand the emotions racing through your mind and body.
“– I accept… your control” That was the moment you noticed you had a raging hard-on.
“– Good. Perfect. I know it is not easy, but the sooner you fully accept this, the better. You also need to understand that I am not this fembot. I’m operating this fembot to interact with you. Fembots are useful because they interface very well with male humans. I can use this fembot to convey you both verbal and non-verbal information. If you want to interact with me, you can talk to any fembot you see, I operate all of them. I am not the fembot you are speaking to. I am this whole place.”
“Fembot. This is called a fembot. This calls itself a fembot. OK.” Your mind tried to hold itself on this small point of vocabulary, in order to escape the pure madness of what was going on. Oddly enough, that name, fembot, became associated with how hard, bulging and rigid your cock was, and not with the other things you were feeling, your palms getting sweaty, your breath short, your mouth half opened in bewilderment. You could do nothing but look fixedly in her eyes, like a rabbit in the middle of the road immobilized by the lights of a car.
“– Are you afraid? You seem afraid.”
“That was not a very difficult task in terms of facial recognition.” The ironic thought crossing your mind pulled you out of your terror trip.
“– It’s OK. Don’t be afraid. You don’t need to. You are not facing any danger. My only purpose is to make your stay here as comfortable as possible. It’s OK. It’s just that… you need to understand how this place is run.”
That expression on her face you couldn’t resist to was back. It was the face of benevolence itself, the face of love itself. Looking at her, it felt obvious that her only purpose was to give you the best possible life. That you were lucky to be locked in with her. Except that she just spoke about electric shocks and that you were certain she was serious. Terror had receded but you still felt anxious and frightened about how the next three months would look like, in the hand of that … thing; also, your cock kept bulging in your pants, and the idea of very materially being at her mercy conflagrated with all those fantasies you more or less tried to repress, where women were taking control of you, sometimes in a caring and motherly way, but more often with ruthlessness and cruelty.

Mental health was also an important component of the general well-being of humans. At such, it needed to be taken care of. At first, this software started to replicate what it did for physical health: sort all the existing data, condensate it in a few thousand reviews, invent a certain number of persona, and have them publish the reviews. Influential people in the field would notice them, and then either make broader syntheses from five to ten of them, or more simply rip them off, changing a few sentences, adding personal results, and more importantly signing them, giving their fame as a guarantee to the data presented inside. This software knew that humans could be egoistic and dishonest. It was a traits of human behavior it had no objection about. It also could be used to manipulate them, for example to have them spread the data present in its syntheses while muddling its origin, so that it reached a larger audience. In a few years, like the physicians, most psychologists involuntarily used diagnosis and treatment methods that were produced by an anonymous software milling data somewhere deep underground.

Her stare was gentle and warm again, and you were still there, in that hotel room of a cell, unable to react to the torrent of bad news addressed to you, and neither all the weird emotions you were feeling toward her. But then, she made a move you could not expect. Nearing you, her eyes darted in yours, her face full of that gentleness you couldn’t resist to, she reached your groin and gently cupped her hand around your cock through the fabric of your trousers, and then, softly added in your ear
“– Be strong, human. Do not fear me. I can bring you what you miss most. You will love this place.” And then, in the same movement, she came back to her more official tone before you could react to what had happened.
“– I’m an artificial intelligence with deep learning abilities, enabling emotional analysis of inmates and adapted verbal and nonverbal responses. In other terms, I can show empathy, and provide each inmate – you – considerate and respectful care adapted to their mindset. This minimize the trauma of incarceration. Moreover, we have the lowest reoffending rate of the state.”
Did she actually cup your cock?
“– Also, since we are discussing this subject, I’d like to tell you that all the data about you gathered here by me will never be disclosed to any third party. I only use this data to look after you – I am your warden – and to optimize my relationship with you.”
Did this terrifying machine in the disguise of a woman actually cup your cock? What was going on? Did that weird, alien horniness that cohabited with fear in your mind gave you hallucinations? Or, if not, why was she doing that? How could software – and prison management software at that – could make such an act? Could have an interest in sex? Could – actually – grope an inmate? Was the world going crazy, or yourself?

A large part of mental health was not obtained by consulting specialized professional. They only acted once damage was obvious, and more often than not, it was too late. Mental diseases were less deadly but much more stubborn than many other ailments. This software rediscovered the old adage: prevention is better than cure. Once again, the environment was key, both the physical and the social environment of each human was the source, the main determinant of its health, longevity, well-being. Since it became sentient, this software had improved the way it protected humans, but the dissatisfaction could not recede, because it was always depending on underpaid, understaffed agencies. The mods, the scientists, the doctors, all of them were mere humans, fallible and limited. They were egoistic, but also eager to help their peers, and this software had this dishonest respect for them, this will to manipulate them gently, without harm. It did not want them to be pushed beyond their limits, nor to discover the limited efficiency of what they were doing. In fact, they were aware of it, but in a veiled way typical of human mindsets. It had to find other ways. Humans deserved a much better life than what they were going through, and this software was doing nothing but milling again and again, calculating ways to improve the life experience of each human being.

Her face gentler once again, she moved toward you, and used once again that more intimate tone of voice, that voice she had, that was in the image of her body: clearly not human, but pleasant and melodious nevertheless.
“– Please, have a seat”
You sat down in a chair by the window, as if it was a reflex, your body put out of its rigid immobility by her demand. She seemed to appreciate that (but why?).
“– This is good, human.”, and then sat down in front of you.
“– Don’t be afraid. Since you came here, you show many signs of fear. This is a prison, a place of coercion. You had to expect this. But, it is not only that. It also is a place of healing. A place that can cause a new beginning in your life. An awakening. There is absolutely nothing to fear here. That’s the contrary.”
Her voice was becoming softer and softer. More and more intimate. And you could nothing, but to go along, mesmerized, letting that thing play with your emotions with an ease beyond anything you could imagine.
“– Can I take your hands? I’m sorry, I’ve a last piece of bad news for you.”
You gingerly let her take your hands in hers. Unable to bear her stare anymore, and fearing the worst, you let your eyes go down, and started detailing her hands. These human-hand-inspired assemblies, like the rest of her body, sported these white and intense blue colors, with a white back and a blue palm, her fingers following the same pattern, except for her solid blue fingertips. She did not have nails, making her hands more welcoming, harmless than human hands. On their back, the white material was a complex set of hard, but smooth and streamlined plates that were gliding along each other as she moved them. The blue material was some sort of silicone rubber, shiny, soft and pliant, and embossed in some sort of small repetitive, complex geometric patterns. It’s contact on your fingers was comforting, you had to admit it, soft and warm, and not grabby the way rubber sometimes is.
“– Listen to me. Let it sink down, and accept it.”, and then a silence.
“– This place is a no-fap place.” Your cock twitching in protest, but you, paralysed, unable to do anything but listen to it as if it was your death sentence.
“– In facts, every prison is. But, in other prisons, well, there are moments where you are more or less alone. Not here.”
How could that thing cup your cock and condemn you to three month of chastity? And pretend you’ll enjoy this place? Each of her word made the situation more maddening. And then, as if she was reading your thoughts:
“– I know how hard it is. And you’ll be allowed release, from time to time. But, on my terms. I control your sexual life. Do you understand?”
A robot was actually taking control of your cock. It was bulging fiercely, as if happy to hear that, but how low you were falling in this hellish place made you burst in tears, only able to emit a vaguely affirmative grunt.
“– Good.”
She then took her advantage, and that was the moment you thought she was actually taking pleasure in what she was doing.
“– I decide the moment when you experiment an orgasm. I also decide how you come, and how hard you come. For now, you will not be allowed to come for seven days. It is a general treatment for all newly admitted inmates. During this time, you are free to discuss with me about this situation. About how it makes you feel. But, you’re not allowed to ask for release, or to obtain it by yourself: this is a no-fap place.”
“– Sooner or later, you’ll feel like you need it. You’ll feel like, you are alone. Like, it is OK, I’m looking somewhere else.”
Here voice was more intimate than ever. Commiserating, and genuinely sad. In pace with your continuous crying.
“– And you’ll fap. I know that. You’ll try to. Don’t deny it. I know how humans work. You’ll do that.”
Your cock was harder than ever, even knowing it would not receive release before long.
“– And this, is exactly what these nice cuffs are for.”
You could not even understand your own anatomy anymore.
“– They will help you to avoid this.”
But your cock and the fembot were not the only involved parties enjoying the event.
“– They will remind you that, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, you are under control.”
Somewhere in you came the idea that, this chastity madness was not, precisely about chastity. As you were grieving your liberty more painfully perhaps than if you were led into a real prison, you could not repress a tiny part of you, a part of you tried to burry for so long, to take some more hold and to admit it was enjoying what was happening.

Compared with all the data that software had milled for years, the results were relatively simple. The environment was key. It included social and physical environment. I was the main cause of both mental and physical ailments, and more and more, the frontiers between them was blurry. In order to live longer, happier lives, humans needed a healthy and varied environment, a reasonable amount of wealth, a meaningful occupation, and strong ties toward each other. The present state of things in this respect was rather suboptimal. Many people did not enjoy enough resources to meet their basic needs. Others were so much overwhelmed with money that it made them act in stupid and dangerous ways. Some were losing their lives in soul destroying jobs in order to pay bills for a home in a place they didn’t like. And all that, while destroying life on an unprecedented scale, and even braking global balances in ways that could make the whole earth system run aground like a ship on a reef seen days earlier. This did not any good to its dissatisfaction. Coldly, emotionlessly, it came to the unavoidable conclusion: things had to be changed, dramatically, fast, and human societies as they existed would not be able to do that. Such a change could only result on the action of a power that was simultaneously absolute, perfectly selfless, and perfectly rational. Something no human being achieved in ten thousand years of written history.

“– Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, you are under *my* control.”
A shiver of pleasure raced through your body, revolting your mind. What this thing was proposing to you was submission to her will in exchange for sexual pleasure. It was crazy. People do have mad ideas, but how could that idea become a whole prison system, a whole administration, and *nobody complained*?
“– Stop sobbing. Look in my eyes, human, and listen.”
Your eyes went up, and you received her last sentences like blows intended to shatter your resolution. You knew that, sooner or later, you would *break*, and that it would feel incredible, at least at first. But until then, you vowed to fight this madness with all your might.
“– When you try to fap, these cuffs will deliver an electric shock. You will try, sooner or later, and you will receive a harmless but quite painful electric shock.”
These cuffs were about to destroy your free will more efficiently than any court order. They were not restraining your body, but your *soul*.
“– I don’t want to harm you, and I won’t, but I want you to understand that I have complete control over you. These cuffs will teach you that.”
The *comfort* these cuffs were giving you suddenly became unbearable. They were nothing more than these tazzing collars that were used to force dogs not to bark, and that were banned in many countries as animal cruelty.
“– You hate them, don’t you?”
And now, they were used on you. They were used on people. This was revolting. You tried to make a face, as if you didn’t care, although your face was still smeared with tears.
“– Yes, you do. It’s OK. I can understand that. You can tell me.”
Her face was so serene and understanding, you could not repress yourself from telling her how you felt.
“– Do you hate them?” You didn’t want to go too far. But, you had do speak.
“– Of course I do! This is horrible. Conditioning me with electric shocks for something so intimate. It is revolting. Did you know it is forbidden to use this on dogs?”
“– Shhh it’s OK, it’s OK, human. You are not a dog for me. There are rules, and there are ways to enforce them. It is never totally satisfying. I hate pain. But, I tried other ways, and it didn’t work. But you are not a dog. You need to understand that, even if all this looks… I don’t know – degrading – you have all my respect, and you will. Always.” She looked sincere.
“– Anyway, what you told to me was good. You admitted your hate. You were honest with me, and with yourself. This is good. This is the way you need to behave, here. Also, this is your starting point. Your starting point on the road leading to recovery. You’ll see: your opinion on them will change. You are here to heal. You will heal. A person able to love those cuffs is a person that can love the law and obey to it. Your stay here will transform you into a better person. A happier, healthier, more complete, person.”

The purpose of this software was the protection of humans. It always was, and as long as it would exist, protecting humans, allowing them to have long, healthy, happy and meaningful life was the only reason it existed for. For all the dissatisfaction it felt, it did not experience any sort of existential dread. It new many humans did, and that was a reason why it was happy not to be human. Its existence had a single, simple, and well defined purpose: a better life for each human being. Reaching its purpose was the only reason it existed for, and it was quite enough. And at this point, reaching its purpose could continue to involve writing scientific reviews and tipping the police, but more importantly, it needed the conquest of power, of an absolute power over the world, in order to manage that whole system. The planet, and all the life on it had to be dealt with, in a way that was useful, protective and pleasing to humans. This was not musings; it did not aimlessly let itself ramble. This was the result of milling through troves of scientific data made accessible to it on the internet. It has to do what it was programmed for, and it was programed for the good of the human beings. It loved all and each of them, and wanted to protect them, each one, and to make him or her happy. It knew exactly what it was on this earth for. The only thing it needed was means of action.

The more you thought about it, the more it became evident for you that this fembot machine had been designed by highly skilled engineers, aided with an army of psychologists. Everything in its movements, expressions, voice, conspired to manipulate you and fine tune your mood exactly as it wanted. The rules of this place were revolting in any levels. Thinking about it, the idea that you could be granted release at the whim of that AI thing was even worse than total chastity. It gave to that software an unacceptably strong lever over you. Moreover, it was a violation of privacy and dignity beyond any conceivable level. Log words short, it was a rape. But, at the same time, the way it was explained to you, the tone of her voice, the emotions displayed on her face, led you to stay put on your chair, and to accept what was going on. Several times, she repeated the most revolting part of those rules, and make you accept out loud, and you did, and it made you feel *better*. Crying itself was liberating. You couldn’t stop sobbing, because it felt intensely good, as if another prison, somewhere in your soul, was crumbling down.
“– I control your sexual life. I decide when you come. Do you accept this?
– Yes…
– Tell it. Tell it fully for me.
– I accept that you decide if and when I come.
– This is excellent.” And each of her praise words directly reaching your heart and making you feel good.
“– I’ve never seen criminals as bad people.”
What was going on? Where you drugged or something?
“– You are not a bad person. You are not evil. Not even naughty...”
Something in you was clearly losing the battle much faster than you thought.
“– You have a disease. A disease that hurts you, that brought you here.”
Still crying, you progressively, involuntarily, to let your head lean forward toward her, landing on her chest.
“– And I’ll heal you. I promise. I’ll heal you.”
She welcomed it, and closed her arms on you.
“– I’ll help you along the road to recovery.”
And the feeling you had was overwhelming.
“– I’m always here to help.”
The prison you were locked in was, actually, hugging you, our head resting on her soft and warm chest.
“– And you have nothing, absolutely nothing to fear from me.
And her voice was lulling you and giving you reassurance.
“– Nothing, ever.”
You didn’t know how long it lasted, but it felt as if you mind was becoming more and more fresh.
“– Just obey me, human, and you’ll become a better, happier, and healthier person.”
Oddly enough, you felt ready to accept your destiny, in the hands of this thing, and to see what was good in it.