The Lost - Part 7
Ali becomes Sven
The Emirate of Kurabadh
It surfaced from what seemed like a series of very confused dreams. Or were they nightmares? Perhaps they were actual memories? It could not be certain and did not really care. All it knew was that, as thousands of scenes played out in its mind, they were instantly forgotten, leaving only the faintest traces behind as a reminder that these experiences had once been part of its consciousness.
“He’s waking up. His eyelids are fluttering…”
The voice was male, but unfamiliar, and came from somewhere above its head. The individual had used the language known as English. It opened its eyes and looked up to see two men looking down upon it. They were both standing next to the bed on which it presently lay. One of them was a complete stranger, but it knew with total certainty that the other man was its Master. Painfully aware that it was very wrong to be lying down in its Master’s presence, it immediately attempted to rise.
“Easy now,” the stranger said. “Do not stand up too quickly; take your time…”
It sat up on the bed, swung its legs over the side and tentatively stood on its feet. It was naked, but felt no sense of shame or embarrassment. Staring straight ahead, it awaited its first order.
“Can you speak?”
This was its Master addressing it for the first time, also in English. “Yes, Master,” it replied, selecting the same language from the twenty or so different tongues available to it.
“What is your name?”
“It has no name, Master…”
Its Master smiled. “With those blue eyes you have now, I feel that something Scandinavian would be the most appropriate. As you are my first ‘special’ guard, I think I shall call you ‘Sven’…”
Sven bowed its head slightly in recognition of this honour. “Thank you, Master.”
Its Master turned to the stranger. “I cannot quite believe how truly powerful his physique has become… It’s incredible! Those muscles! That huge cock! He was so pathetically puny before…”
“I am happy that Your Royal Highness is pleased with my work.”
“What about the blond hair I asked for?”
“All his natural body hair was destroyed in the translation process,” the stranger replied. “As you instructed, I have programmed him to have blond hair on his head with neat matching eyebrows. This synthetic hair will grow until it reaches the short crewcut length you desired and will then stop. The process will take at least a couple of weeks.”
“And there will be no other hair?” Master asked.
“Following your orders, I set the programme for total facial, body and pubic hairlessness, but this can all be changed should you so wish.”
“No… He is perfect. His smooth, silky ass cheeks are divine…”
Its pleasure sensors responded very positively and triggered an instant erection as its Master’s hands lovingly caressed its rounded buttocks.
“Beautiful…” Master said, His voice soft with desire. “He must be over six feet tall, too. He is as magnificent as I hoped. You have done very well, Professor Fraser…”
“Then I trust that you will remain true to your word and release my husband and my servant from captivity…”
“All in good time, Professor. There are a few more tasks which I need you to perform before they can be restored to you.”
“But you said…”
Professor Fraser’s voice sounded angry and it immediately tensed, ready to protect its Master from harm if necessary.
“Enough!” Master interrupted, sharply. “I have spoken!”
Professor Fraser bowed his head submissively.
The possible danger to its Master over, it again relaxed.
“Now you will assist me to get my new guard dressed.” Master clicked His fingers and the Professor turned away to open a nearby closet.
Master looked into its eyes. “Apparently, you have the ability to make your skin become slippery. You must do so now…”
It activated this function, causing its entire body surface to be covered in a thin layer of silicon molecules to facilitate it being clothed in its uniform.
The professor returned holding a shiny black garment so delicate that it looked as though he had liquid oil flowing between his hands. Fraser bent down and assisted it to insert its feet, one by one, into the floppy rubber tubes. Very carefully, the professor rolled the incredibly thin material up its calves and over its thighs. He pushed its penis into the specially constructed sheath and, once that was done, continued to gradually unroll the garment until it reached as high as its eight-pack abdominal muscles. The professor then held up the sleeves so that it could slide its arms inside until its fingers and thumbs completely filled the moulded gloves at the ends. Finally, the garment was secured around the base of its neck with a stud fastening and then zipped tightly up at the back.
“Superb…” Master said, walking around it so that He could see how snugly its uniform fitted from every angle. “There is hardly a crease and one can see every muscle in his handsome body… It looks as though he’s been sprayed with liquid rubber; he’s totally delicious! Quickly, now! I can’t wait to see him fully dressed!”
Sturdy, knee-high, rubber boots were slipped on, followed by a pair of gauntlets over its already rubberised hands. A thick metal belt was hung around its waist, which contained several pockets for equipment and included a short police baton and a gun holster containing a loaded pistol.
Its Master personally added the last two parts of its uniform, locking a heavy electronic collar around its neck and placing a close-fitting metal helmet over its head. Both these items were made of gleaming black steel and the helmet had a visor of smoked glass to shield its face.
“Welcome to the Royal Guards, Sven,” Master said, smiling as He appreciated how smart it looked in its new uniform. “You are now officially Special Elite Guard 001. Go now and join Master Alexei in the Royal Apartments…”
Guard 001 saluted its Master and marched out of the room without hesitation. Its programming contained all the details it required concerning its various duties and functions and it was content to know that, from now on, it would be obeying its Master’s commands at all times.
Once he was finally alone, Angus paced restlessly around the makeshift laboratory the usurper Emir had provided for him, swearing under his breath. Although he suspected that Ali, Hassan’s former secretary, would be reasonably content in his new synthetic life, the ethics of his involuntary transformation were dubious to say the least. He, Hassan and Dunce had wanted to become synthetic, to save them from the ravages of old age or terminal illness. Hood had been a murderer facing a wasted life behind bars. Ali was very different. He had committed no crime and, according to Yaqub, the young secretary had originally been heterosexual. He was now one-hundred percent homosexual with the body and face of a Nordic god and possessed no memories at all of his former life. Had Ali elected for this change, it might have been different, but the fact was that he had not done so.
Not only was Angus resentful about having been forced into such an immoral action, he was angry about being imprisoned and desperately worried about the welfare of Dunce. He was rather less concerned about Hood, but he had become quite fond of the young black slave and would be extremely sorry to hear that any undue harm had come to him.
Angus went over to the heavy steel door and tried it for the twentieth time that day. It was still locked and through a small reinforced glass panel, he could see that a pair of armed guards remained standing outside as they had done since he was incarcerated. The laboratory had only the one exit and, being underground, no windows at all, so even with his enhanced strength and speed there was no possible way he could get out.
Sighing, he returned to his workstation and opened the file containing Hassan’s DNA sequence. At least he had his own computers and store of nanites, he thought bitterly. Decanting a small phial of nanites onto the special drive tray he had designed himself, he slid the small drawer back into the console and typed the order to programme the microscopic particles to mimic Prince Hassan’s own cells.
The late Emir’s body lay on a gurney hidden behind a plastic curtain. Pushing this to one side, Angus carefully re-examined the decapitated torso and shook his head sadly. What remained of Hassan’s synthetic head lay in an enamel bucket at his feet. The assassins’ bullets had torn the poor man’s skull to pieces and pulverised the delicate electronics of his brain. Angus knew that it would be completely impossible to piece all these tiny fragments together, but it had occurred to him that if he could reassemble most of the head, the application of fresh nanites, programmed with the Emir’s DNA sequence, might replace those parts that were missing… Angus sighed. It would be a lot of work, and was an untried experiment which would, in all likelihood, eventually fail, but he needed absolutely no rest these days and there was precious little else to do stuck down here…
“I am very sorry, Sir, but you cannot proceed any further down this street. The area beyond has been designated as a female zone for women only.”
David Hunter muttered a few English swear words under his breath before he regained his poise and was able to address the policeman politely in Kurabadhi. “Please, Officer, my friend and colleague lives just over there in that apartment block behind you. Her name is Amanda McFarlane. She’s American. A journalist like myself. We have a lunch date together. You must let me through…”
The police officer shook his head. “Apologies, Sir, but the new Emirs’ orders are very strict. Men and women cannot meet together in Kurabadh anymore.”
“This is ridiculous! It’s positively barbaric! Surely you can see that? Don’t you have a wife or a girlfriend yourself?”
The policeman looked slightly pained. “I did, Sir, before…” He cleared his throat. “We’ve ended our relationship now, Sir.” He sighed. “It’s for the best. The Emirs are right, Sir. It’s wrong for the opposite genders to mix.”
“But for God’s sake, man! You’re heterosexual, aren’t you?”
The officer nodded. “At present I am, Sir, yes, but I’ve started attending one of those new reorientation classes that have started up and I’m hoping I can get cured of my perversions given time, Sir.”
David gave up arguing at this point and headed to a nearby café for a much-needed drink. It had only been a month since the new Emirs came to the throne of Kurabadh and already the place was as crazy as fuck…
A waiter in his early twenties approached as soon as David sat down at one of the tables outside. “Yes, Sir?”
“A large gin and tonic, please, with ice, but no lemon,” David ordered, removing his sunglasses so that he could see his phone more easily to call Amanda and explain why their date had to be postponed.
“Would you like anything else, Sir?”
“No, thank you…”
To David’s irritation, instead of going in to fetch his drink, the waiter continued to hover over him. He glanced up from his phone and saw that the youth was pointing towards a poster on the wall behind him. It depicted a number of photographs of naked young men of a similar age to the waiter posing in what they all probably thought were highly alluring sexual positions. “These boys are all for fucking or sucking, Sir. Very clean and cheap… You like one of them, Sir?”
“No, thank you…”
The waiter flashed him a broad grin and cupped his hand around his dick. “I’m available for sex too, Sir, if you prefer to fuck with me…”
David replaced his sunglasses, grabbed his phone and stood up. “Just forget the drink,” he said over his shoulder as he walked, rather more briskly than usual, back towards his hotel.
Abdul, the proprietor, was sitting in his usual place behind the reception desk, but David was surprised to find that the old man had the bar-tender, a nineteen-year-old youth by the name of Mahmud, sitting on his lap. The pair were kissing and fondling each other and continued to do so even when David approached them.
David coughed politely to get their attention. “If its not too much trouble, I’d like a large gin and tonic, please…”
Betraying no signs of embarrassment, the pair looked up at him and smiled. Mahmud slid off the old man’s lap and headed towards the bar. He screamed cheerfully as Abdul gave him a playful slap on the buttocks just before he was out of reach.
“What’s happened to this place, Abdul?” David asked. “It seems to have gone gay-crazy today…”
Abdul nodded. “It is the Emirs’ decree that we all become homosexual, Mr Hunter.”
“Yes, I know, but you’re married and the father of five children! Where are your wife and daughters, by the way? I did not see them serving breakfast as usual in the dining room this morning.”
“They have moved into the women’s district of the city, of course. Luckily, this hotel has been designated as a man’s building in a male area, or I would have been the one who had to go instead…”
“But you told me you and your wife have been together for over forty years,” David said, his voice becoming slightly shrill with incredulity. “Won’t you miss each other?”
Abdul shrugged. “We can always talk on the phone…”
“Surely that won’t be much of a consolation for being physically separated…”
The old man smiled. “It is amazing how money can compensate for most things in life, Mr Hunter.”
“I’m sorry? I don’t understand what you mean, Abdul.”
“Have you not heard the news, Mr Hunter? It was announced on state radio and television first thing this morning. The Emirs have decreed that homosexual men and women in Kurabadh are to be completely exempted from taxation…”