Chapter 6: The Calibration

22 September 2025

“One of the things I have concluded,” Jenny said to Rebecca, as she readied something on her mobile, “is that the Master doesn't want random puppets; he wants instruments who will be tuned to the exact frequencies of his desire. The virus accomplishes that by amplifying what he wants, and silencing what he doesn’t.”

“So the next phase of my work is to test you, and find all of the negative messages so we can delete them."

Rebecca’s breath hitched. Intellectually, she wanted to jump up and run away, but something inside her held her still. Her mind — the sharp instrument that had won her cases and dominated boardrooms before she found her latest patron — was screaming. Get up, it ordered. This is a violation. This is a biochemical ****. You are Rebecca Stevens. You do not submit.

But she couldn’t even try to **** her muscles to engage, to find the leverage to move. Each moment she tensed her will against the haze, the noise in her mind fractured into a thousand jagged needles of psychic static. Her feeble attempts at rebellion were met with a sudden, agonising drop in her core temperature — a soul-deep chill that left her gasping.

Then, as her resistance wavered, the virus countered with a reward. A wave of searing, honey-thick heat flooded her system, a deluge of dopamine so intense it made her vision swim with blazing light. It wasn't just a physical sensation; it was a biological argument she couldn't win. Her "self" was a lawyer trying to argue against the tide. The virus was the tide.

Rebecca realised with a terrifying jolt of clarity that she wasn't obeying Jenny. She was obeying this. The friction of her independent ego — the constant, exhausting labour of being Rebecca — was an exhausting burden she was suddenly, desperately tired of carrying. She didn't want to find a loophole anymore. She wanted to embrace the silence of submitting to this.

"How do we do that?" Rebecca whispered.

Jenny responded with a predatory smile. Rebecca had been hooked.

"We test your limits, Rebecca. We find the triggers that turn pride into devotion. I will map out every stratum of your psyche until there is nothing left but a perfect void, waiting for the Master to fill it. You won’t be a woman anymore, Rebecca. I have become his Architect, designing an elegant solution for his eventual conquest. And you are to be his next vessel.”

The tiny voice in Rebecca’s mind howled yet again at what Jenny was saying. This is unethical. This is immoral. This is risky. This is wrong.

The problem is that this feels so fucking good!

And as a result, no sound came past Rebecca’s lips. She just nodded blankly and smiled, her eyes producing more of the strange emerald glow.

“I wasn’t ready to take you under this quickly, Rebecca, but I felt as though you were forcing my hand earlier. I am afraid that my methods of exploring the effects upon you are going to be somewhat unconventional.“

Rebecca shuddered involuntarily at the last comment. “Jenny, I’m feeling… torn. I know that everything you are saying and doing is wrong. Unethical. But… I can’t find it in me to care.”

Jenny smiled, and reclined into the desk chair. “That’s what I felt too. The distancing of my self from everything that I knew and learned before was… unsettling.”

She stared up at Rebecca. The blonde woman observed that Jenny’s eyes weren’t blinking as quickly as usual. She felt an uncomfortable sensation, like she was being stared at by a snake.

Jenny purred, “Tell me, Rebecca. If I were to slip my hand between your thighs, would I find you soaked?”

Rebecca’s eyes opened wide at the suggestion of such an intimate intrusion. But she also blushed, and her breathing hitched.

“So wet,” Rebecca gasped. “I can't help myself.”

Jenny smiled at the admission. “Good girl,” she said patronisingly. “That’s so good.”

“Why can’t I help myself? Why is this happening?”

“The virus has been engineered to make us not simply helpless to resist. It’s designed to make us need to obey. Assuming you are even capable of thinking for yourself at this point, you don’t want to.”

Jenny rose from the chair, and closed the distance between her and Rebecca. Jenny’s right hand reached under Rebecca‘s skirt to the inside of Rebecca’s thigh. Her fingertips pushed aside Rebecca‘s knickers, and slipped into the slick folds of her most sensitive skin.

Jenny had never been this sexual with another woman. She took no intrinsic joy in invading Rebecca like this. This was science. Or at least that was what she was convinced of by the combination of her driving ambition and her irredeemable compulsion.

“You weren’t kidding, Rebecca. You’re a sloppy mess. It’s almost as if you are enjoying me feeling you up like this.” Jenny had an uncharacteristically predatory glint in her eyes, and she licked her lips. “And believe me, you’re really going to enjoy this next part.”

Jenny put her phone in Rebecca’s hand. “Watch the screen, Rebecca. Whatever you do, don’t look away from the screen.”

Jenny tapped the screen while looking away, and it started a countdown sequence, from 10 down to 1. And then it went blank, followed soon after with a blazing red burst. The ruby stayed for what felt to Rebecca like forever. It hammered her, and her entire body was frozen.

No, not frozen. It was shackled. She was totally aware but she couldn’t think of anything except being obedient. And since she had no order to follow, she had to wait. For as long as it took.

Then, without warning, the screen shifted shades, and Rebecca was flooded by a blazing yellow flare. Inside her cells, the virus was opening wide, bathing her mind in chemicals which stripped away her resistance. She felt herself pulsing from the inside. Her body was shaking, and she felt someone holding her up in the chair.

“I know what you are feeling right now, Rebecca. You need. And that’s why I’m here. Remember, don’t look away from the screen.”

Jenny had a countdown clock in her mind. She wasn’t sure of the exact second. But she knew what was coming. Besides Rebecca, that is.

Jenny braced herself for the instant that the screen would change colours again. When it did – when the screen shifted to a radiant green blast – Rebecca climaxed like never before. Jenny vicariously enjoyed as the solicitor’s world and mind were rocked.

As she kept Rebecca from slumping out of the chair, Jenny reached down between Rebecca’s thighs again, and stroked her so that Rebecca could be driven to multiple orgasms while the obedience package was burned into her nervous system.

This was the lesson Jenny had learned from the experiments and the simulations. The colours were more than enough to reinforce the need to submit into a subject’s nervous system. But the sexual pleasure turned up the deluge a thousand fold. There was no coming back from this conditioning - Rebecca would be a helpless subject for as long as the virus was within her.

Exactly thirty seconds later, the screen went dark. Less than a second after that, Rebecca collapsed completely, every muscle in her body both relaxed and supercharged. She was breathing hard, and her heartbeat had spiked, before slowly settling. Jenny had a satisfied grin as she repositioned her colleague in the chair.

“Welcome to the **** sisterhood, Rebecca,” Jenny said as she licked her lips.

***

The demonstration removed most of Rebecca’s resistance. For the next few hours of experimentation, Rebecca was far more compliant. Jenny would give Rebecca instructions, and Rebecca followed them immediately. The pathways of obedience had been hardwired into her, although it was still more Pavlovian than anything else. Jenny found that the green light effect had built an association for Rebecca - do what she is told, and good things happen.

But Jenny knew that it was only an association, leading to a learned response. She suspected, without being sure, that only Master could generalize the obedience response consistently.

And she was no closer to knowing who the Master was. Or even if there still is one.

What she knew, because she felt exactly the same craving as Rebecca was experiencing, was that the virus needed her to find Master. Then, she would know what living truly was.

"Heart rate: 115. Pulse is steady," Jenny reported. "Just as I suspected from my own experiences. Your body has accepted the subversion, and now you are returning to a new normal."

"It feels... wrong," Rebecca said softly. “You fingered me to orgasm, and I’m not the slightest bit put out. Not about that. Not at you. It’s just… something that happened.”

"I know what you mean," Jenny responded. "I have never been attracted sexually to women. I mean, I know that you’re proper peng, but still… Yet knowing that I was breaking your will to help the virus work its magic on you was giving me almost as much excitement as I knew it was giving you."

Rebecca nodded, trying to process the situation. “So what happens next? Now that you have me infected, what am I supposed to do? What are we supposed to do?”

“Well, my friend, you are going to stay right here, while I run you through some new simulations that I have been programming. I’ll hook you into the VR goggles, and we’re going to see what kinds of data your brain and your body are ready to provide.”

Rebecca didn’t like the sound of that. She knew she shouldn’t like the sound of it either. She didn’t get an MSc in biochemistry or a law degree so she could be strapped down and experimented upon like a lab rat. But no matter how much she tried to produce the objections, she couldn’t voice anything. The primal need flowing through her body told her to stay put and help Jenny learn more.

She even developed a word for it, though she was ashamed to admit it. The whole situation made her feel squishy.

Jenny placed a specialised set of goggles with built-in speakers on Rebecca’s head and over her eyes. Once she was certain they would stay in place, she activated the simulator software and began her narration.

“Over the past few weeks, and especially since I infected myself, I have been exploring ways to use external stimuli to activate the effects of the virus. One of the methods I experimented with was using photos and images tied to certain themes. I have to admit that I discovered my own particular fetish for combining pornography with hypnokink that way.”

Jenny watched as Rebecca took in what she was explaining. Her breathing was quicker and more shallow, and Jenny could see a flush rising under Rebecca’s pale skin. “I’m going to present certain images through the link, to try to trigger certain thoughts or memories or responses. When you see the image, I want you to tell me what it reminds you of, and how it makes you feel.”

The first image was of Rebecca’s home neighbourhood in Sheffield. Rebecca had fond memories of growing up there, but now she felt… distant from it, and she admitted as much.

Another image, of a man and a woman flanking a small girl. A family. Rebecca felt so distracted by the virus that she couldn’t summon any emotion beyond a pale fondness.

The next was a picture Jenny had pulled from a pornographic website. Rebecca saw a woman, naked and collared, on her knees. She was towered over by a handsome man. This image thrilled Rebecca, even though she didn’t know or recognise either of them.

“And now,” Jenny prompted, “I think that this should be particularly fun.”

An image of Jenny appeared in the goggles followed immediately by a bright green strobe. Rebecca climaxed instantly.

Then a similar image, but Jenny wasn’t wearing a top. And then a longer green flash hit Rebecca. The next orgasm was multiplied.

A third image, this time Jenny was completely naked. The green light felt endless, as did the climax which followed.

“Rebecca, darling, what did you learn?”

"Please," Rebecca whimpered, her body arching off the chair. "Please, I... I need..."

"You need what, Rebecca?"

"I need... to be... like you," Rebecca sobbed, the words tasting like honey and ash. "I need to obey. Please, Jenny... make me like you."

“Like me?” Jenny asked with a puzzled tone.

“Yes. You are a ****. I need to be one too.”

Rebecca slumped forward, breathing heavily, pussy throbbing. She was no longer feeling like a solicitor. She lacked the strength to think about her past. There was only her present, and her future. Her future serving Master. She was a helpless object in need of her owner.

Jenny lifted the headset, and put it away. Then she helped Rebecca to sit up straight once again. Rebecca moved without resistance. Her eyes were fixed forward, filled with a ****, singular focus — not on Jenny, but on the abstract, looming idea of the Master. Jenny was merely the architect; it was for him that Rebecca was being hollowed out and rebuilt.

***

Jenny had shuttled back and forth from labs in the complex to Rebecca’s secluded office, to fetch further components for her experiments. The virus was unconsciously suggesting ideas to her, and Jenny had no agency to resist.

One of the devices Jenny had retrieved was something like a TENS device. She applied small leads to Rebecca’s temples. When Rebecca responded appropriately to instructions, Jenny triggered a charge at a certain frequency to “reward” her. When she acted or spoke incorrectly, a different frequency was administered as punishment.

Jenny tested Rebecca on factual items, to the point of convincing her that up and down, and right was left, as long as the electrical impulses directed her in that direction. She tried to adjust Rebecca’s mannerisms, but some things refused to shift. A pulse of pain would make Rebecca bend over, but as soon as it ended, she returned to the straight-up posture she found the first time she sat post-infection. Pleasure-inducing charges wouldn’t break the strange head-tilt habit either.

Jenny took to thinking of Rebecca as less of her colleague, and more her science project. She took to addressing Rebecca as “Subject,” to the point that the two names became synonymous. To depersonalise her further, Jenny gave her a number.

04.

Jenny had no conscious idea of where that came from. Jenny recalled having been Subject 01 in her original logs. She knew she was not the first, so she hadn’t classified herself as Subject 00. And to be fair, she didn’t know who Subject 00 was, or how many iterations ago that woman was.

There hadn’t been any other subjects between Jenny and Rebecca. Perhaps she should have gone with 02. But in her heart, she knew this designation was correct.

And thus, Rebecca had been numbered.

Objectified.

Dehumanised.

“Subject 04, define your purpose."

Rebecca’s reply was instantaneous, her voice a velvet purr. "I exist to be useful for the Master. To obey and wait for the Master. To be quiet and serve the Master. Subject 04 is to be a perfect thing for the Master." Rebecca’s head tilted slightly. "Rebecca’s thoughts were... clutter. I am grateful that they are being cleared out so there is more room for him."

With each subsequent tweak, Rebecca’s responses grew increasingly levelled. Her voice was paradoxically both flattened and enhanced; the messy, unpredictable nuances of a free woman were discarded like rubbish.

After hours of continuous calibration, Rebecca stopped flinching when the leads pulsed against her temples. She was physically motionless, yet obviously, intensely aroused. She exhibited a breathless, trembling excitement as her mind was reorganised and her body was pushed beyond exhaustion.

Jenny knew that any rational protocol suggested a break, but she couldn't pull herself away. She felt a magnetic pull towards this continuing erasure. She wanted to see how far she could push the parameters of self-negation, and how deeply she could weave new requirements into Rebecca’s core. The thought of finishing for the day felt like leaving a holy task incomplete.

"Subject 04 is so much more useful now," Jenny whispered, reaching out to brush a blonde strand from the girl's forehead. "The Master will find the subject... acceptable."

"The subject only exists to be accepted by him," Rebecca responded. The flatness of the third-person delivery made the intensity of her green gaze even more jarring. She looked like someone completely consumed, her body a temple of perfect, hollowed-out etiquette. "I feel the weight of his expectations in every dial you turn. Please... do not stop until Rebecca is completely suppressed, and only his servant remains."

Jenny felt a shiver run down her spine. The more she took away from Rebecca’s autonomy, the more intense Rebecca’s devotion to the Master seemed to become. It was a feedback loop of surrender and optimisation. Rebecca wasn't just accepting the changes; she was hungering for them, her pulse racing as she strove to meet the shrinking margins for error that the Master demanded.