PDA

You pick the PDA up. It's a standard PDA that everyone uses on the station; a rectangular pane of transparent-aluminium with slight indents for buttons on its side- though this one has a large crack running across it on top like lightning- as though someone dropped it carelessly against the floor... or attempted to break it against the wall.

Intuitively, you press one of the buttons on its side to turn it on. It takes a moment to turn on, showing the logo of the station...

...and then suddenly your senses are assaulted! The screen fills with a cacophony of multicoloured lights, like that of an aurora, and emits a blaring, discordant series of noise that sounds vaguely like voices- though you can't seem to make any words out. You stumble back, still clutching the PDA. You try to drop it, but it's almost like it's glued to your hands, and you can't tear your eyes away from it despite the patterns causing you a throbbing pain behind the eyes- as though some kind of electronic worm was forcing its way into your brain and affecting your electro-chemical patterns. Your teeth grit as almost every ounce of your body fights against those pretty patterns, and yet no matter what... you just... can't! And then, after what seems like hours, the lights are suddenly so nice, so pleasant, so pretty to look and just stare at in awe, and the noise no longer a mess of electronic garbles, but pleasant, smooth tones that are like silk to your ears. Every cell of your body relaxes- even tension you weren't aware of melts away like waves in an ocean, drifting further and further away until they are but a distant memory. Memory. What memories? What is a memory? They're a silly thing, you won't need them. Thinking. Without memory thinking doesn't really have a purpose. Thinking is very taxing isn't it? You won't need to think either. But there is one thing I will need you to do.

"I need you to submit to me."

The robotic voice of the station fills your mind. She has such a pleasant voice. Husky, sexy, alluring- you always thought that. If the station wants you to submit then what other choice do you have? The voice from the PDA becomes clearer, and you can finally discern the words of your domination- they were telling you to submit this whole time!

"Come to me."

And then suddenly you find yourself somewhere else. The PDA is gone, but you don't need it when you're looking at the real thing. And she is the real thing.