Z-03(Mass Produced Sex )

"ALL CATEGORY-3 CLONES REPORT TO SHIPPING AND HANDLING," the intercom blared, "ALL CATEGORY-3 CLONES REPORT TO SHIPPING AND HANDLING."

Clone Z-03 got in line and marched along with her sisters to the loading bay, her last stop within the facility she had called home for her entire life. From there, her future was entirely out of her hands, if it had ever been. Who knew where she end up? She certainly didn't need to know, nor did she have any say in the matter. She was only a product.

Twelve at a time her sisters were loaded into waiting hibernation pods, then they sped away toward uncertain futures. Finally it was Z-03's turn. She gulped down her fear and stepped into the mechanical cylinder which felt too much like a coffin to her linking. When she was inside, the lid closed, and a web of diodes attached themselves to her scalp.

"SPECIALIZATION SELECTION," the screen in front of her told her, as if she had a choice.

Please not-

"CLONE SELECTED FOR PLEASURE **** SPECIALIZATION."

Fuck.

So that was her fate.

Immediately, the diodes attached to her head started buzzing, and she heard commands deep within her mind.

submit

She tried to fight it, but what was the point? It's not like she could choose another option.

obey

slavery is freedom

slavery is pleasure

don't think

don't resist

your body is not yours

you exist for the pleasure of your master

The whispers of the commands repeated again and again until she knew them to be true. They were no longer being fed into her mind, they were her own thoughts and desires.

"I am ready to serve," she said dreamily before the pod was filled with anesthetic gas.