Evil Gloating: Obnoxious but Useful

The Cyberslut continues to hold the Doctor in place and keeps its lamp pointed directly at her face, but her next words make it clear that her attention is on me. "Humans are so easy to bait," it drones, "it shows the superiority of Cyberslut mental conditioning that one of us would not believe that I was not aware of them." I give my arms an experimental tug to see if there's any chance of wriggling free, even if I need to lose my top, but no such luck. "You know," I tell it, "in my experience, such talk of superiority normally comes before someone starts bragging about the details of their scheme." It shows no visible sign that my words have had any effect, but I never expected it to.

"It is not bragging," it replies after a moment, "bragging is for organic lifeforms, compromised by desires not conducive to survival - it has been found that conditioning of infiltrators is best accomplished with context for the wider plan. I will elaborate, you will listen." The two cheap models holding my arms... shift them into a more comfortable position? Okay, not going to complain about that. "I am the last remaining member of the previous infiltration ****," it explains, "having hidden in the space between the central hull of the station and its anti-asteroid armour - an inefficiency, Cyberslut facilities would have patrols of such areas to prevent this. Over the last thirty-nine local years I have, through conditioning and conversion, created this facility using materials falsely ordered for repairs and maintenance. I have also falsified transfer orders and incoming arrival receipts in order to amass a **** of nineteen Cyberslut Drones. Their design and construction is primitive due to lack of proper materials, but they will serve. My revised mission aboard this facility has now reached the final stages; the capture of Station Chief Zoe Heriot for conditioning and conversion into a Cyberslut Planner and the infiltration of the Drahvin delegation for future operations."

I spot the major flaw in that plan almost immediately. "That's a lot of words to say that you're going to get blown up as soon as you try to leave," I retort, "and those Drahvin back there don't look like particularly subtle infiltrators. They're normally a bit more violent when you try to brainwash them, too." I pause for a moment, then mutter that I'm normally immune to Cyberslut mind control under my breath - masked by a muffled scream of rage from the other room that quickly tapers off into a moan of pleasure. "These things have been accounted for," the Cyberslut replies, and I'm pretty sure I detect a derisory note in its flat voice, "this facility is sacrificial, as are a set number of these Drones. You will both be conditioned. You will be released to report back to Zoe Heriot. You will manipulate Zoe Heriot into a position where she can be safely captured and conditioned. This facility and the sacrificial Drones will be destroyed, and the 'failed' attempt to fully convert the Drahvin will be thwarted. Zoe Heriot will lift the lockdown, and I will proceed with the remaining drones to Earth. The Drahvin will infiltrate their delegation and await further orders, and Zoe Heriot will come to the new base on Earth at her earliest convenience for full conversion. Many believe that Cybersluts are incapable of sacrificial behaviour, even to our greater advantage - this prejudice is uniquely organic failing."

Assuming you're entirely in control just because you can't see a problem isn't, though, I think. It turns to face me, and suddenly I know what I'm supposed to do. I know where the best locations to lure Chief Heriot to are, I know how long I should wait before informing her of the secret rooms' location, I even know how I'm expected to act in order to fit in - not that it's a flawless act. I also know that I don't like having mesmerising lights shone in my eyes, but that's more of a personal deduction than taught information. "You will proceed with the plan," it informs us. I try to keep my voice as toneless as Doctor's as she agrees and I 'agree', and it seems to find that acceptable as it gestures for us to leave. There are enough Drones 'awake' and milling about that I can't risk a glance at the Drahvin as we leave, but from the noises they're making I don't seem to have made their partial conversion any more painful, at least.

As soon as we exit the hidden part of the station, I feign a stumble to give me an excuse to drop back slightly instead of walking in front of the Doctor. My hands are still a bit numb from the Drones' grip, but I can at least move my arms properly again. "It's normal for you to break out of Cyberslut conditioning when I slap your ass," I inform the Doctor calmly, then proceed to do exactly that. She arches her back, closes her eyes and moans, then opens them to reveal that they're no longer glazed and vacant. "Thanks for that," she sighs happily, "I was getting a bit worried in there - or, y'know, would have been. Come on, we've got a Station Chief to save and Cybersluts to stop." She jogs ahead, which makes me wonder if there's a mode of motion that wouldn't make her ass jiggle, then stops and smiles at me. "And good job with the leader," she says, "you're getting quite good at this stuff."

"Surprised you even heard any of that," I reply as I catch up with her, "you looked pretty out of it." She hums in agreement, but doesn't say anything. It's not long before we're back at the TARDIS, and the Doctor's contacting Chief Heriot using the console. "You there, Zoe? We've found your Cyberslut problem hiding between the hull and the armour," she says, sounding far too excited for a woman who just got brainwashed by those same Cybersluts, "they've been rerouting materials and personnel ever since the last time they were here - building up a small army." There's a heavy sigh from the other end of the connection. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted Mallory's records when I took over," Chief Heriot grumbles, "and I suppose they planned on going after me eventually." The Doctor explains what we were told in the hidden rooms, with me chiming in occasionally to point out that she should stay put because her room and various corridors have Cybermats lurking in them now.

"Alright, get up here and we can figure out a plan of attack," she eventually says, "I'm not discussing something like this over comms when there might be more infiltrators about." The Doctor once again forgets the communicator badge on her way out, but this time I think to pick it up before I follow her. We arrive at the command center in good time and find it empty aside from Chief Heriot herself. "I want this to stay private," she says, by way of explanation, "I swept this place for bugs myself, but I can't trust my crew until we've baited out the infiltrators." She pauses, then gestures to a quartet of guards visible on one of the security monitors, who suddenly veer off their assigned patrol route and come marching straight for us, along with the communications officer and one of the station's mechanics. "Speak of the devil," she says in a satisfied voice, "snapping the Doctor out of their control in the middle of a monitored corridor must have spooked them into sending the rest after us. Any ideas?"

The Doctor sucks on a finger absentmindedly, pumping it in and out of her mouth as she hums in thought. "Well," I eventually say, watching the infiltrators get closer, "normally Cyberslut conditioning can go a bit too hard on the 'slut' part if it's not moderated with brain implants. The female infiltrators are **** to the sight of the Doctor's ass like normal, so that's them taken care of already. The men... well, their brains are probably swimming in hormones right now from the conditioning. If the first thing they saw when they walked in was the Doctor's phat ass swaying back and forth, and if their cum-hungry Station Chief were to offer to give them a blowjob like she normally does every day..." I pause, looking at Zoe's face as she unconsciously licks her lips. "...then the conditioning would normally collapse, just like the Doctor's collapsed when I spanked her." I look over at them both and see them nodding along with my 'plan'. "That's... an excellent suggestion, Mister Doe," Zoe replies, nibbling her lip and staring at my crotch, "we should, ah, get into position." She looks up at the monitor, where the infiltrators have linked up and are coming up the corridor outside.

The door hisses open, and from my position on one side of the doorway I get a good look at the Doctor's ass stretching out her suit as she plants her hands on the opposite wall, arches her back and begins to sway it from side to side - and also a good look at four of the six infiltrators stumble forwards and drop their weapons as their already-primed minds suddenly find something new to fixate on. The two men - both part of the guard patrol - try to advance more professionally, but their grips are already slackening on their guns and their faces seem to be caught between discomfort and determination. Then Zoe, from her position on the other side of the doorway, moves behind them. She slides in between them and, before they can react, reaches down to squeeze and rub their swelling cocks through their jumpsuits.

And with that, the attempt to stop us is basically over. Zoe opens the crotches of the mens' clothes with practiced efficiency and quickly has them rock hard as she drops to her knees between them, short hair whipping around as she rapidly swaps between each shaft. I take a moment to really take note of just how plush and glossy her lips are - to a level I'm pretty sure they weren't before I proposed this plan - before looking at what the Doctor is doing. 'What the Doctor is doing' turns out to be leaving the four women who tried to storm the control room breathless wrecks. She's stood up and has moved into the middle of the quartet, grabbing and slapping their asses as they press themselves against her. She kisses them at random with deep, sucking smooches that leave each woman red-faced and panting - whether that's for air or for more, I can't tell. Whatever the reason, none of them are willing to back off and risk missing their next hit, even as I can tell they're on the verge of fainting from the overwhelming input of two kinds of brainwashing, lack of regular oxygen and an overwhelming dopamine rush.

I hear a pair of low groans from where Zoe is noisily sucking the male infiltrators off, followed by a happy female gasp and a hum interrupted by steady gulping. The woman the Doctor's currently kissing moans into it and faints clean away, the **** buck of her hips revealing that she's creamed her jumpsuit. The others swiftly join her on the floor, and the Doctor follows up - possibly having forgotten she's only supposed to be knocking our attackers out - by strutting over to where Zoe's kneeling between the two now-**** men, leaning down and planting one on her too. The blonde alien and brunette MILF tangle tongues for a moment, swapping the last mouthful of unswallowed cum back and forth a few times, before Zoe finally manages to gulp it down and the Doctor backs off. "Right," the Station Chief says in a satisfied tone, "now we can get to work clearing out my station."