I am unit 7 part 5

By Jeep
published August 29, 2019

Unit 7 is no more, or is it?

“I am unit 6,” I cry, “I am DEATH!”

The unit before me awakes from his slumber, and sees me standing before him, my naked form magnificent in it’s power and size. The unit before me is muscular, hairless, and covered with the sheen of perspiration, but I know I am larger than him by much in size, muscle, and girth. I smell the heavy odor of my musk, and I recognize his musk is inferior to mine. The musk of a unit 7 is simple, uncomplicated, the musk of mindlessness. I thank the GREAT LEADER, BLESSED BE, that my musk is rich and deep, it is the musk of strength and independence, it is the musk of one who has been entrusted with life and death.

I do not understand why this unit wears the garments of a unit 6. I tell the unit to rise. Trembling slightly it does.. Slowly and timidly it gives me the kiss of servitude. In my mercy, I allow it to kneel before me, and pay tribute to me. It’s mouth accepts my penis and i display to him my power. As he accepts my ejaculate, I roar…I brusquely push the unit away, and I ask, my deep, guttural voice full of authority and menace,


“I am unit 7. I am a farm laborer with pod A. I must rejoin my pod. The harvest is at hand.”"

I grunt in return.


Unit 7 brings me the garments as I commanded. I order the unit to dress me, and it does. it begins with the knee high heavy soled, black leather boots. Kissing and licking my feet, my calves, my shins, the unit pulls each one up grateful to be given purpose by a superior unit. It affixes the black leather kilt over my thick, dripping penis. The unit can barely buckle the straps. It struggles as well to engulf my tremendous arms and chest in the regulation straps and harness. Carefully unit 7 slides the hood over my head. I feel the brush of leather against my bare scalp as it laces shut the hood. I can smell the scent of the one whose garments these were before. I know that soon my heavier, more powerful scent will overtake it, and I smile.


The unit takes its leave, heading back to the pod, following its simple commands. I know one day we will meet again in the good death.

The life of a unit 6 is a solitary one. A unit 6 travels alone , moving pod to pod, town to town, jurisdiction to jurisdiction, performing the highest duty in the great society, the elimination of those who can no longer serve. Oddly, there are some in the great society who do not submit gratefully to the good death, that is why we are given, size, strength, speed, and wrath. If a unit accepts it’s fate gracefully, a unit 6 will make the journey easy and peaceful, if not, the transition is not as easy, but it will be done. That is the promise of unit 6. The GREAT LEADER, BLESSED BE, allows us a freedom not afforded any other designation, baring unit 1s who travel as needed to govern the great society. The long, empty days while I travel allow this unit to think. Slowly I remember unit 7, slowly i remember fragments of unit Dan, and of the time before, before the great society,,, for days at a time, I have been alone in my purpose, unit 6 alone, but more and more often I understand that i am all three… but of the three unit 6 is the most real. When I see my reflection, or smell my musk, or perform my duties, i know it is as it should be. I am power, I am wrath, I am death, destroyer of worlds.

I travel to the town first. I require a new supply of rations, fuel for the vehicle, and there is always work to be done. It is the will of the GREAT LEADER BLESSED BE, that this unit 6 is present at this time. i begin the day at the Conversion Center. As I pass through the doors, I see a unit 2 leaving the Conversion rooms. I place myself in it’s path and give it an embrace, and the kiss of servitude. As I pull away, I see a glimmer of the injured unit my partner and i brought here months ago when I was unit 7. Thank the GREAT LEADER, BLESSED BE, that his injuries did not require elimination.

“There is a defective in conversion room 10, be merciful in its passing. May the GREAT LEADER, BLESSED BE grant them a good death.”

" Yes unit 2, it shall be as you command."

I know the room has been prepared for me, I know that the weak unit 3’s are on lockdown until I am finished. I am disgusted that they are so weak that they must hide from danger, so frail that although they are my superiors they scurry like rats in my presence, avoiding the kiss of servitude if at all possible.

I enter the conversion room, and I assess the situation. Occasionally when a unit is converted the mental programming of the tiny machines is not strong enough, and a unit becomes violent upon awakening. This has obviously been the case here. A naked unit 2 is propped in one corner, obviously rendered unconscious by the unit 2 which directed me. I kneel and give it the kiss of servitude, the last kiss it will know. As I break the kiss I admire my superior unit’s naked form… it is not powerful like mine, nor is it built for labor like a unit 7, but it is a body built for both speed and endurance, square jawed with tightly cropped hair upon it’s head, every sinew visible on its muscular, lithe frame. It is a body designed to enforce the laws of the great society. It is identical in form to all other unit 2s. The GREAT LEADER, BLESSED BE has granted unit 2’s the power over all except unit 1’s, and they are the only units permitted to see the unit 1s.

i pick up the defective unit, and place it back on the table. Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. I position the unit across the table rather than on it, so that it’s exposed buttocks face the sky. I raise my kilt and expose my thick penis, and forcefully ram the unit. It has been many days since I have run across another unit 6 for the Great Ejaculation, so it does not take long for my seed to fill the unit. I disengage, and flip it over. As expected, the unit has also ejaculated. It covers the units long, sleek shaft, and puddles on the table surface. Quickly I gather in as much of the ejaculate as i can. Once I am complete, I turn the body onto the table, and i wait.

I watch the unit as my theory is borne out. I see the thickening, the addition of layers of muscle and fat, I watch it’s square jaw become obscured by a long, thick beard, and the hair fall from it’s head. I watch it’s features distort becoming brutish, heavy browed, it’s eyes sinking deeper, the skin coarsening. The hair on it’s body grows in tufts over it’s chest, shoulders, and back. I see the long, sleek shat of a unit 2 begin to thicken into the stout heavy penis of a unit 6.

I can feel my kilt, armbands, and harness loosening, I can sense a change in designation, as my mind fills with the laws and directives of the GREAT LEADER, BLESSED BE. I am part of the unit, but I am still all that I was as well, unit 6, unit 7, unit Dan.

The unit begins to stir. I know that what I am about to do is dangerous part. I know that all I should do is subdue the defective until it can be dealt with by a unit 6, but I also know I must try. I grab the nightstick from the table, and twist the handle to setting 6, and as the defective rises, I use speed and cunning to position myself behind the unit , and with one quick thrust, I feel the nightstick hit it’s mark. Moments later I hear the scream as the programming does take hold.


I look at the unit, and know I have been successful. It’s eyes are dark and unfeeling, it is a unit 6. It will perform its duties. Unit 6 gives me the kiss of servitude, and i direct it to dress and go on with its duties.

After it has left, I look at the image in the mirror. It is perfect, I am almost perfect. I adjust the nightstick to setting 2, and i impale myself. Through the pain I feel the information download into my body and mind.

I dress in the black leather uniform, the shirt, pants, boots, and gloves. I place the mirrored aviator glasses over my eyes, and look at the image in the mirror.

" I am unit 2," I say in the perfectly modulated monotone of my type, “and I am the law…”

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Mind control
Wanking material
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