2017-12-18 - spike - The New Shop 54

Author: spike
Title: The New Shop 54
Date: 18 December 2017

Chapter 54
It was fun at first. Running around following orders that were sometimes impossible to complete. Pretending to jump in shock, double over or collapse and writhe around in mock agony as the warnings of increased punishments progressed but by the end of the day, I was utterly exhausted.

It never slowed, never stopped. If this maniac had his way, we’d be run to exhaustion and shocked to death, the way things were going.

The dogs were all put in their cages and still it continued.

I redistributed the balls for another hour and then collapsed, twitching slightly when the imagined shocks came. I really hoped the others were doing the same. I just lay there, in the corridor between the cells and eventually fell asleep.

The voice never ended of course, it even entered my dreams. I crawled to my feet when I’d woken, unsure of and not even caring about the time and began again. I deliberately moved more slowly, stumbling, swaying, making whoever it was controlling this program see the effect he was having, hoping he’d begin to see the consequences, even in-game consequences and allow me some sleep.

Another eternity of following orders and faking agony followed when suddenly…

I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if the voice hadn’t said my name. It was Q.

“Eleven, stand down. Get some sleep, you need it. We’ve got him.”

I leant against the wall in relief and began typing. “Permission to get a wash, flush and feed too, sir? God, I’ve not been this thirsty since my run across the city.”

“Oh, oh god, of course. Go up to the wet room, the others will receive the same instructions. Sarge will plug you all in. Then get some sleep.”
* * *
“Where did you find him, sir?”

“Suburban Washington D.C. We made sure we got the correct man of course. Broke into his apartment and planted a couple of cameras that’d get a good view of his computer screen and his television. It seems you were right number eleven. He does have some control over our CCTV feed. He could see everything. When you lay twitching in the corridor he was howling with laughter and calling his friends claiming the most realistic game he’d ever seen. The only thing lacking was plasma cannons.”

“Oh god. How long before he’s here, sir?”

“He’s going there naked, sedated. Well, I say naked. The man who captured him used a trusty old tranq dart, mummified him and stuffed him in a packing case. He’ll remain that way until he’s unpacked. We want him to see what he’s going to become before we do it to him. He does however have the plug in place. That means when he gets there tomorrow he’ll be ready and able to receive shocks without causing harm the moment the suit is cured and he’s been finished off.”

“Put him to sleep again so he wakes up like that, as we did with Duke, sir? Or let him experience the process as with Slasher and friends?”

“I… think this time it may be more amusing to do it to him while he’s asleep. You will need four people to hold him in place during his curing though. He’s a big one.”

“How big, sir?”

“Oh dear god, he’s huge. A blob of a man. If you’re familiar with The Simpsons, much worse than comic book guy. It took four rolls of duct tape to cover him completely. I’ve offered the techies some suggestions. Level two, coming soon. Get this slave in shape. Perfect health and fitness. Various statistics will occasionally flash up onto the screen such as a health percentile and an imagined heart rate based on his current state.”

I collapsed into laughter. “God, I’m going to enjoy this, sir. Will there be a risk of being crushed if he wobbles down the corridor too quickly and falls on someone?”

Q chuckled. “Yes, he is that bad. He’s also short sighted, so after his torture has ended and it’s time to teach him to speak, he’ll need additional lenses glued to his goggles. Not until then though. The moment he’s unwrapped, administer the antidote to the sedative. Wake him but keep him blindfolded and cuffed to the chair during the initial interrogation. Then all six of you stand before him as his blindfold is removed before issuing my sentence. That he’s nothing but a game character now. He’ll experience exactly what you did and it’ll never end.”

“Oh god he’s in for hell! Won’t it kill ‘im sir?”

“The messages popping up on their games will indicate that health percentile I mentioned. That will begin to drop if he isn’t permitted cleaning, flushing, food and sleep. Even if he’s shocked too much.”
* * *
The dogs’ progress had moved on since we stopped training them, all were now capable of handling two sensations and another was due to kick in. Again, we helped, redistributing the balls, this time, M and Slasher took their place on display and early in the afternoon, something large and wooden appeared in the elevator.

We transferred it up to the gym and… By god, it was heavy, it took all four of us to haul that case out. I ran off to get a chair and selected the sarge.

“Sir, have we got a crowbar? We’ll need a knife too if Master Q was right about him being mummified.”

“Crowbar? No, sorry. We do have a claw hammer though, that can be used to remove nails. I’ll bring them down along with M and Slasher. Where?”

“Gym, sir.”

“I’ll bring the sedative and antidote too.”

In less than half an hour we had him out, unwrapped and cuffed to the chair. God it was a struggle. Unconsciousness really does seem to add weight to a person, they flop all over the place and this one was flopping in places I didn’t think possible. He was a walrus. A mound of blubber with a head on top. I know for a fact M would’ve been fired if he even approached this one’s weight.

Blindfold on, sarge jabbed him in the arm and less than a minute later, he began to stir.

He groaned. Then he sat bolt upright, or, that’s what I assume he did. It was difficult to tell under all that fat.

“Ahh! Wha! Where am I?”

“Did you enjoy your new game?”

“What? Who the hell are you? Why c… Oh shit my hands!”

“Did you enjoy your new game?”

“Where am I? What’s happening?”

Oh god this was good. The artificial quality of my voice really stood out when I repeated the same sentence.

“Did you enjoy your new game?”

“Yes! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Where did you steal it from?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where did you steal it from?”

“I found a weird server on the internet, just random letters for a hostname, I got curious! I hacked it, OK?”

“What method?”

“Look! You can’t hold me like this!”

“What method?”

“Please… Oh, oh my god, what the fuck?”

“What method?”

“What’s that up my ass?”

“What method?”

He started to cry, to sob. “I studied the responses. I did a traceroute, hacked into one of the servers on the way I’d already gained access to and sniffed the packets! It was easy after that!”

“How many people did you give a copy to?”

“I only gave it to a few friends!”

“How many people did you give a copy to?”

“Only six!”

Q’s voice sprang into my head. “Excellent interrogation method, eleven. There are currently twenty separate IP addresses running your code.”

I nodded. “Then why are there now twenty running it?”

“Twenty? But I told them to keep it secret!”

“Why did you modify the code?”

“It needed improvements! It’s more fun if you make characters suffer! I”

“More fun? Try being on the receiving end! What modifications?”

“Let me out! My arms hurt!”

“What modifications?”

“Look, all I did was crack the encryption they added, add a punishment button, customisable messages and time delays before the warning and for the warning itself.”

“You made more. What?”

“I don’t understand!”

“You made more. What?”

“Let me go! Please! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You made more. What?”

“OK! OK! I bypassed subroutines for waiting for an elevator. Something about only allowing punishment if they didn’t enter when it was there! What was the point in that?”

I deselected him and typed. “Master? Time for the big reveal?”

Q chuckled. “Go on.”

I yanked off the blindfold and selected him again. “Welcome to level two. Welcome to the game!”

He squinted.

“What the fuck!”

“Level two is you, fucker! You caused us untold agony until we managed to cancel it. Over a day of incessant shocks! And for what? An inability to enter the elevator when commanded? Now, you are going to be at the mercy of those friends for the rest of your life. Every command. Every punishment, you will experience. When you next wake up, you’ll look just… like… us… Only a hell of a lot fatter.”

“No!”

“Oh yes. And what’s more, once you’re in one of these suits, they are utterly, absolutely impossible to remove. You are going to be a slave to your friends. Just as we are slaves to our master. Enjoy the game, boy. It’s your life now.”

“This is a dream! It has to be a dream!”

I stepped forward and slapped him in the face. “Does that feel like a dream? The thing up your ass… A punishment device like no other. It is now a part of you. It’ll never be removed. It’ll become a part of the suit and soon, we’ll never hear that whiny voice again either. Another small mercy for us!”

I pointed my fob at him. He let out a howl of agony, his hands reflexively trying to break free of their bonds in order to clutch his ears.

“Oh? Those? The only voice you hear from now on is this one or ours if we’re feeling kind.” I deselected him. I knew the earplugs would work for a while without external power. I’d read the packaging. “Sir. Can you pipe in the program’s voice to us, please?”

– “Press the panel, blank. You have thirty seconds to comply.”

“How? This is impossible! I can’t be inside a computer!”

“What the fuck do you think this is? Tron? Of course you’re not inside a fucking computer. The program you downloaded wasn’t a fucking game! It was simply a slave transit control program, designed by me! You perverted my work and tortured me! Tortured all six of us! Now it’s payback time. For you it is just a game. You will become your own avatar. You’re going to experience exactly what it is to be in that so-called game and all your friends, their friends and anyone else who gained access… They’ll control you utterly. Nothing will be permitted that isn’t commanded. The program knows no mercy!”

“Wha… Slaves? What? Slaves aren’t real!”

“Do we look fake?” I leant in really close so he could see me. “There are many types of slavery. Welcome to the darkest side of sadomasochism. The blackest form of sexual fetish. You’ll never leave.” Again, I deselected him. “Sir, can you…?”

Sarge nodded, grinned and jabbed the blob in the arm. He stared at the syringe in horror as slowly, his struggles subsided and he fell fast asleep again.

“We might as well haul him into the wet room like that, sir. He’ll be easier to carry, one to each leg of the chair. We can suit him up and seal him in down there.”

“Totally agree. We do need to tube him up first though, I’ll get them now.”

Sarge, ran off, got them and the wire mouth brace and with a little guidance from M, he was tubed up, the bulbs sealed with liquid graphene, the gag too, seal the tubes to the gag and nose plugs and trim. Then, mouth cap on, we tried to move him.

Another incredible struggle, a lot of heaving and manhandling. My god, he must’ve weighed half a ton!

We got him down into the wet room eventually, uncuffed his hands and dumped him off the chair. Now for the fun bit. Getting him into the suit. Thankfully, even with his expanse of flesh, it stretched to accommodate but we had to roll him on the floor a few times to get it fully on, then, as with the thieves, we held him upright changing our grips every half an hour until we were sure every inch of the graphene was cured.

I had another thought then. A good one, I think. “Master Q… I’ve just had an idea.”

“Go on?”

“You mentioned a health percentile… How about someone monitor the commands, those just out to cause it pain which will eventually kill it, lower their health score more quickly. When it reaches ten percent, game over, slave dead, locked out for good. If I know people like this, and working for a gaming company I think I’m quite familiar with ‘em, I bet they’ll have a twitter hashtag or online forum about it and when one of them complains he killed his slave and lost access permanently…”

“Treat him like a Tamagochi? Oh bloody hell, that’s an excellent idea.”

“A what, sir?”

“Ah, a toy from the ‘90s. They were quite a big thing at the time. Little pocket pets, simple LCD screen and a few buttons. Keep it fed, exercised and play with it, keep it happy but overfeed, starve or torture it and the game would die along with the digital critter. Useless lump of plastic, you couldn’t even reset them. Had to buy another.”

“Ahh, those things? I never paid much attention to those as a kid, sir. And in this case, buying another isn’t an option. Once a couple of them report being locked out the others might start treating it better. Within a week they’ll realise they have to work together as more drop out and it’ll become self regulating. We do want it to live for a long, long time after all, sir.”

“Yes. If things go too far, they’ll all be locked out to give it time to eat, wash and sleep though. Just a server maintenance message on their screens.”

Finally, we ran off to cover up, returned and with great effort held it in a stable upright position while the suit froze.

Shame it wouldn’t be conscious for the next bit, the wash and flush. The painful one.

Oh well, you can’t have everything.
* * * * *
The moment the washing cycle was complete we unhooked everything, then another idea by Q. Oh god it was a good one. Rather than blank its vision, we bent a wire coat-hanger to become a crown of sorts and dangled a black card before its eyes. The only thing on it, in white writing…

“Game paused.”

We left it there for the rest of that day and night.

The next morning, every slave and dog gathered in the wet room to watch.

I blanked its goggles, removed the coat-hanger and returned to join the rest, typing “Level two commences in three… two… one…” into my wrist.

And with that, Sarge up in the control room unfroze the cubical.

The game voice spoke. I’d asked to listen in to what was being done to it for the first few days and Q had granted that. M had volunteered to take the night shift listening in. For one thing, we’d be able to handle things more quickly if it ran into difficulties… well, more serious ones anyway. We’d also be on hand to spot for it if ordered into the gym.

– “Blank. Make your way to the double doors, press the panel.”

At first, nothing happened, the cubical door remained closed.

– “Blank, press the panel, you have thirty seconds to comply.”

The door opened slowly. A head peeked out and it emerged. It looked down at itself. At its hands, its belly. I pointed at the mirror.

It looked around in a panic, then gripped its throat, collapsed to its knees and looked like it was trying to throw up.

– “You have twenty seconds to comply.”

It looked around in shock, terror probably, then it saw me pointing. With huge effort it forced its vast bulk back to its feet and waddled over. It slowed, walked over with extreme caution as it stared at itself. Its arms shot to its back obviously trying to find the zip. It turned in front of the mirror in an attempt to see it, to find anything…

– “You have ten seconds to comply. Failure to obey will result in higher punishment.”

It failed to heed the warning. It was too engaged with its reflection, it stared more closely and recoiled as things probably came into focus. It gripped the goggles and attempted to wrench them off. It tried to get a grip on the mouth tube too, but its fingers just slid off. There wasn’t enough to get a purchase. It gripped the material itself but all that got was a small snap as its grip failed again.

Then it jumped in pain as it felt its first shock. If it was the same shock I’d received the first time while in the case it would’ve made me leap in the air a foot but with its bulk, clearly not enough to overcome its weight. One mercy for us I noticed then. The graphene, now cured, held its bulk in place much more than it had. It didn’t undulate as it walked. That was something at least.

– “Blank, press the panel, you have thirty seconds to comply.”

This time, it heeded the warning. For a normal person, I would’ve said spun on the spot searching for the panel it had to press. This one couldn’t handle a spin, a slow turn was all it managed.

– “You have twenty seconds to comply.”

Finally, it spotted the panel by the doors. It was slow though. Half way across the room, another warning.

– “Increasing punishment to level seven. You have ten seconds to comply.”

At this, it tried to increase its pace but just before its hand reached the panel, it doubled over in agony. So, not at the knock off your feet stage yet.

– “Press the panel, blank. You have ten seconds to comply. Increasing to level eight.”

It was slow to respond again, it took all those ten seconds just to recover from the shock. Again, just as it was standing another, this one did knock it off its feet. It writhed in agony for a few seconds.

– “Press the panel, blank. You have ten seconds to comply. Increasing to level nine.”

At this warning, it forced itself up much more quickly, its hand slapped the panel and the voice spoke again.

– “Failure to obey will result in punishment. Press the panel by the single door at the end of the corridor.”

It opened the door and looked, then began to walk down. We all followed at a distance. Half way down it got the thirty second warning again.

This time, it got to the panel in time, touched it and went through.

– “Press the panel by the single door opposite.”

It did so, and again, the voice spoke. Now the fun could begin. Well, the fun for us. It wasn’t going to enjoy this one bit.

I tapped on my wrist, selecting sarge. “Sir, are you holding the elevator?”

“Yes, eleven. Tell me when to let it go.”

“I… think ten minutes should be enough. Master Q? Do you have a recording of what it said about bypassing the elevator subroutines?”

Q let out a full belly laugh. “Oh god, perfect! Yes. Tell me when, I’ll play the recording.”

“Thank you, sir.”

– “Enter the elevator and press the panel.”

It looked around at us.

We didn’t respond, apart from a few of the dogs wagging their tails, anticipating what was to come. We just watched impassively.

– “Blank, press the panel in the elevator, you have thirty seconds to comply.”

It stared around in panic. It pressed the panel again, of course eliciting no response.

– “You have twenty seconds to comply.”

It got on its knees, making pleading gestures. We didn’t respond. We just stood and watched.

Again, the ten second warning passed, again, it doubled over in pain and again, the warning of increased punishments.

This cycled through a couple more times until it was on the ten second shocks. Every ten seconds, bam! Maximum punishment. It was writhing. It managed to crawl onto its knees and made a pleading gesture again between one set of shocks.

Of course, the elevator didn’t come. I tapped. “Now, sir.”

“OK! OK! I bypassed subroutines for waiting for an elevator. Something about only allowing punishment if they didn’t enter when it was there! What was the point in that?”

Another shock, another few seconds of absolute agony.

“OK! OK! I bypassed subroutines for waiting for an elevator. Something about only allowing punishment if they didn’t enter when it was there! What was the point in that?”

And another shock.

“OK! OK! I bypassed subroutines for waiting for an elevator. Something about only allowing punishment if they didn’t enter when it was there! What was the point in that?”

And another.

“I think you can release the elevator now, sir. If it keeps this up for ten minutes I doubt it’ll be capable of even crawling in.”

Sarge’s voice echoed in my ears. “OK, eleven. It’s on its way.”

Another two shocks before the doors finally opened. It didn’t even appear to register that there’d been a change at first and took another crawling in when it finally realised. Then it forced itself onto its knees and slapped the panel. The doors closed and we left it to its fate.

“Right, no idea where they sent it, but for us, gym. More training for everyone. Got to get you race ready.”

As we waited for the elevator, the voice again.

– “Step out of the elevator and press the panel.”

Closely followed by…

– “Blank, treadmill, five miles. Go.”

My shoulders shook with laughter. I selected all but the blob.

“Haha. Oh god, I doubt it can manage that.”

M chuckled too. “What have they got it doing?”

“Five miles on the treadmill. I bet it can’t even handle a hundred yards.”

“Don’t worry, eleven.” Q’s voice was amused too. “We have a handle on it. The moment it starts to struggle, the heart rate will skyrocket and its health will begin to decrease. It’s already dropped twenty percent due to the shocks at the lift. Twenty more from the worst abusers, they’ll be locked out and we’ve found the forum they’re using. Once the dogs have completed their exercises and started on the ball search, go to the rec room. The forum will be on display on the corner screen nearest the elevator for the foreseeable future.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”