Prologue 

“We’re not going to hurt you...” she began.   

We'd heard that phrase before: several times, in fact, during our journey across the broken continent. We had tried to negotiate with hostile ranch owners and ruthless warlords for safe passage, in return for vaccinating them against the Plague.  

“We’re not going to hurt you...” the bastards always started out saying.   

“...we’re just going to take your food and water.”  

“...we just want your women.”  

“...we just insist you join for dinner. And you're dinner.”  

“...we’re just going to hunt you in the desert for fun.”  

Up until now, we four—Dom, Cara, Linda and I — had managed to avoid being taken by the scruffy tyrants who ruled over small chunks of what had been, until recently, a thriving and stable western United States.  

This time, we were captured and in chains.  

This time, the second part of the sentence was, “... but we are going to transform you, in ways you cannot imagine.”   

That’s what The Woman told us, calmly and matter-of-factly.   

The Woman—we knew her only by that label at the time—was an imposing presence. She wore Celtic warrior face paint and a glorious mohawk of long red hair.   

Her body? Strong and tanned, with marvelous breasts, a firm waist, shapely hips, and a great ass.   

All that was plain to see; she was clad only in tight shorts over torn fishnet stockings and a small camo crop-top; not a totally illogical outfit, given the heat of the Mexican desert. Her outfit was accessorized with a military belt that held a pair of pistols and a baton.   

She stood above us, legs apart in a victor’s stance, as we knelt in bondage on the hard ground. The lady exuded a powerful aura; she would have needed it to command her small band of tough-looking men, also wearing face paint and mismatched battle dress that showed off their physiques.   

Despite the hardships and despair that I had suffered over the previous few weeks—and the betrayal of the previous night—my cock rose to admire this alpha female. Her stunning green eyes—did I know them from somewhere? — were somehow both cruel and compassionate.   

They conveyed the message, “You are my captive, but I am your liberator. Fear me but follow me.”   

The War  

Up until that morning, our foursome had remained free, thanks to the military training and weapons that Dom and Cara possessed. Those two were the rugged brawn of our little group; Linda and I were the mild-mannered brains.  

We had all been stationed at a small, remote, secret bio-weapons research facility in the hills of Wyoming. Linda was our laboratory technician; I was the chief biologist. Dom and Cara Baker, Army veterans and a married couple, provided security for the outpost.  

It was Easter Sunday when The War broke out; only a few of us were onsite.  

The sneak attack destroyed the nation’s cities. The enemy’s electro-magnetic pulse weapons fried electronics throughout the continent; no computers, no cars, no radios, no electric grid.  

In the next few days, most of the remaining base personnel left to seek out their families. I convinced Linda and the Bakers to stay put; I knew that the enemy had plans to disperse a genetically engineered plague—I was studying a stolen sample of it—and we needed to quarantine. I was still perfecting a vaccine for it.  

Linda was able to cobble together a short-wave radio so we could communicate with other survivors. The news was grim; the Crimson Plague was sweeping through the country and the planet, killing anyone who failed to quickly distance themselves from population centers, as we had done.  

We waited weeks for the authorities to come and rescue us. No one that we could contact by radio believed that I now had a vitally important vaccine; my research was too highly classified.    

Eventually, it became clear that the US government had dissolved, and civilization was reduced to small pockets of humanity, at least in North America. We were on our own.  

We communicated with an enclave of Americans on the west coast of Mexico that had been preparing for the Apocalypse for years. The message was, “Southern Sanctuary” is ready to rebuild society. We’ll take you in.  

If you’re fit and healthy.   

If you’re willing to work hard and take orders.  

If you have skills or knowledge that will contribute to the rise of a new civilization.   

If you can get here, without dying along the way.   

We were deemed worthy; Linda was an engineer, I was a bio-scientist with medical training, and the Bakers were military experts. Plus, Sanctuary half-believed I did possess an inoculation for the Plague.   

The Trek  

We set out in an old diesel Army truck that had no electronics to fry. Using a drone that Linda had salvaged and modified, we scouted ahead to avoid pockets of radiation, and the ruined remains of cities.  

Along the way, as I said, we couldn’t avoid running into small, mobile gangs from out of a Mad Max movie that tried to capture us, but Dom and Cara always out-gunned or out-maneuvered them.   

As we continued our slow, winding journey south, the Bakers also out-gunned Linda and me. By that I mean, once we left the research facility, where I was nominally in charge, they took command and clearly dominated us weaker, non-military types.  

For example, when the four of us camped out at night, Linda and I took to huddling together in a joint sleeping bag, at first merely for warmth, and then...  

Let's back up a bit.  

Linda was not what you’d call a beauty; a mousy, skinny woman in her 40s. Not that I’m a Chippendale dancer myself, but I was not attracted to her during our time on the base. Besides, I had a girlfriend who lived in Manhattan, which I eventually admitted to myself, was gone.   

But I came to admire Linda for her strength and fortitude during our ordeal. When we shared a bedroll, I was a gentleman. But one night, we couldn’t sleep for the sounds of Dom and Cara fucking like animals in the other tent.   

“Adam, I’m scared,” she whispered.  

This was the first time I'd witnessed a chink in her emotional armor.   

“It’ll be alright,” I whispered. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”  

With that, I kissed her on the forehead. She tried to stifle her crying. At that point we both broke down, sobbing over the monumental losses we had suffered.   

When we finished, I kissed her again. This time, on her lips, but gently. It turned passionate and the dam burst. I pushed aside her shorts to caress her pussy; it was wet and welcoming. She reached into my shorts and caressed my eager cock.   

We were ravenous people, hungry to drown our sorrows with intimacy. I mounted her, and we made love.  

Well, we fucked; the first time was rushed and crude. 

The next round was softer, better. And the next one better still.  

We got very little sleep that night.  

When they found out that Linda and I were lovers, Dom and Cara started making sexual advances, to make us a foursome. We resisted, they pushed and eventually backed off, but once we left American soil, the resentful Bakers somehow figured they could betray us with impunity.  

Our truck had broken down, and we were on foot for the final dozen miles to Sanctuary. We were holed up in an abandoned cabin one night and shared a bottle of whiskey we found there, celebrating the near completion of our journey.  

Emboldened by liquor, the Bakers overpowered Linda and I, tying us up. They continued drinking as they explained their motives.  

“Once we get to Sanctuary,” Dom said, “you two will be fucking heroes, and we’ll go back to just being grunts pulling late-night sentry duty. Or cannon fodder if an attack comes. Fuck that. We made a deal with that gang we met a few miles back.” 

“They want to invade the settlement,” Cara said, “but don’t know what defenses Sanctuary has. We’ll give them you two to play with—you won’t last long—and we become lieutenants in their group. Dom and I walk into Sanctuary as trusted friends, with the vaccine, and scope it out. We’ll tell them you were killed during the trip.”   

“When the time is right,” said Dom, “we lead the gang in an assault on Sanctuary, take it over, and with the resources there, we all become the top dogs in this region.” 

The bastards found another bottle of hooch and continued drinking, falling dead asleep while we were still bound. That’s how The Woman and her squad found us in the early morning light: defenseless.  

Soon we were kneeling outside of the cabin, our wrists secured behind us with metal cuffs, which were connected by chains to the backs of the collars around our necks. That's when she told us that we’d be “transformed.”   

Into what, she didn’t say.  

“Move out in five minutes,” she told her men, with a trace of an Irish accent. “Take their gear. I will safeguard the vaccine and his research notes.”  

“Where are we going?” I asked her. “Are you from Sanctuary?”  

“No,” she replied. “We’ve scouted the area while waiting for you and the vaccine to arrive. There’s a war brewing here. Sanctuary does not have the resources to survive long.”  

She then looked to the west with hope and resolve, her wild red mohawk floating in the breeze. She turned to me and smiled, cryptically.   

“Relax, Adam,” she said, somehow knowing my name. “We’re going on a cruise.”   

The Ship   

She answered no more questions during our two-hour trek to the coastline. Dom whispered something to me as we walked.   

“This bitch and her crew all look like the rag-tag punks we’ve run into, but these men are trained and disciplined, like a true military squad. I think the Mad Max-type leather and face paint they wear is just for show.”  

I said nothing; I was not talking to the double-crossing bastard.  

We came to a cove on the Pacific where small, inflatable boats awaited to ferry us to a ship anchored just offshore. I’m no nautical expert, but that craft appeared to be an ordinary, medium-sized cargo freighter. Presumably seaworthy, but it looked old and in need of a refit. 

Or maybe just a scrapyard.   

The sailors on deck were a scurvy-looking, unkempt lot, many armed with rifles. Cara speculated that large canvases on the deck were probably hiding machine gun emplacements.   

I sighed in despair. Pirates. Of course, after all the madness we’d gone through, why not pirates?   

We were taken below decks, to a large section of the ship that was much cleaner and newer than the rest. We passed laboratories, computer rooms, well-appointed staterooms; this was a ship of science and luxury, posing as an aging freighter.   

The Woman disappeared, presumably to her quarters.   

Her squad of men stripped us naked, chained us to a post in a communal shower room and turned on the water.  

As they stripped and washed themselves, four young Asian women in bikinis, petite but with great figures, stepped in with soap and sponges to scrub away weeks of dirt from us chained captives. 

The girls were smiling, giggling, and devoted an awful lot of time to washing and caressing our genitals, man and woman alike. The shower felt wonderful; the girls’ handiwork wasn’t bad, either.  

Then the guards led us away and split us up. Linda was escorted away to an unknown fate. 

Dom and Cara were dropped off at the brig; of course, the pair struggled and bitched, earning each of them stringent metal bondage within their locked cell.   

I was still naked from the shower. Fortunately, the temperature down here was warm and comfortable.  

As a matter of fact, I noticed that no one down here seemed to wear much in the way of clothing, like at a tropical resort for swingers. Flimsy shorts and sheer tops abounded, and sometimes less than that. Bras and underwear seemed optional.   

And every single man and woman in this section was gorgeous, with figures like athletes and fitness models. Not a flabby belly in sight, except for mine.   

(Well, a bit less flabby than before the War. Exercise and reduced travel rations had done my figure some good.)  

Two guards took me to what appeared to be a small parlor clearly designed for intimate gatherings.   

And for bondage.   

The goons removed my metal shackles and replaced them with more comfortable leather cuffs. Sitting me down on a narrow chair that was bolted to the floor, they used locks and chains to attach my wrist cuffs behind its back and my ankle cuffs to the front legs. Chains around my upper chest and neck held my torso in place.   

The Woman entered the room and dismissed the guards, but not before giving each one an amorous kiss and a brief caress of his groin, seemingly a promise of more action later. 

(Well, an interesting Captain/Crew relationship, with a clear lack of a non-fraternization policy.) 

Like us, the redheaded warrior had cleaned up; gone was the grimy camo outfit and the fearsome face paint. Somehow, the mohawk was also gone, replaced with a conventional shag haircut.  

Now. she was even more fetching in a silvery bikini bottom that was secured only by bowknot ties on the sides, obviously designed for easy removal. The tiny top that barely contained her impressive chest was engineered the same way.   

The Woman studied me with a smile, then approached, slinking like a cat in silvery high heels. 

“Are you going to release me?” I asked, hopefully.   

“Not yet,” she said, fingering the metal links that bound me to the chair. “I just love the look of chains on a man; hard metal on soft flesh.” 

The Answers 

“Adam Faraday,” she stated as she teasingly traced circles in my chest hair with an index finger. “Doctorate from Harvard in biology, leading expert in weaponized virology. Kind of shy, a bit of a nerd, but a hell of a brain. It’s been a while.”  

“Do I know you?” I asked, stumped. I certainly would have remembered such a stunning young woman.   

“Really, Adam,” she chided. “The biotech conference in Stockholm? That late-night discussion over drinks in the hotel bar? Am I that forgettable? I know I may have changed a little over the past five years.”  

I studied her eyes in amazement. I finally remembered where I’d seen them.  

“Kate?” I ventured. “Kate Duncan?"  

The lady I was thinking of was far older and frailer than this young, vibrant woman. Maybe she was Kate’s daughter. Maybe...  

She grinned as it finally dawned on me.    

“Oh, my God, Kate!” I cried. “It worked. You made it work! The medical nano-machines you were designing...”  

“Yes, Adam,” she laughed, “I made them work. The Duncan Nano-Bots transformed that crusty old shell you knew into this young, bangin’ body.”  

She gave a little twirl to show it off. 

“I’ve transformed the rest of my team, as well. You’ve seen the results.”  

My head was swimming. Duncan hadn’t been heard from in years. I remembered her as a flirty, homely old dame; she had made a pass at me in Stockholm, which I deflected.   

Shit. I wondered if that rejection was going to cost me now.  

“Kate,” I started, and revised my opening to show a little more respect. “Doctor Duncan. What’s going on? What are we doing here? How...how did you manage all of this?”  

Kate pulled up a chair and sat before me. She raised her right leg, flicked off the shoe and stuck her foot into my crotch, using her toes to play with my genitals.   

“Why don’t you think it through, Adam?” she cooed. “You’re a smart boy. You have most of the pieces you need to figure it out.”  

“Okay...” I started, assuming this was a test I had better pass. 

“Your research must have been funded by a very wealthy benefactor or a nation. You put your laboratory on a ship in case the nano-bots got out of control, just like I took my study of the Crimson Plague sample out to the middle of nowhere.”  

“Good so far,” she said, amused. “Go on.”  

“When the War broke out,” I continued, “you must have been far out to sea and pretty much unaffected by the bombs and EMP weapons. You must have intercepted my radio conversations with the Sanctuary, made your way to Mexico, and lay in wait for us. You wanted the vaccine.”  

“Very good, Adam,” she said. “And the crew...?”  

“You transform all your people here below deck to test the nano-bots, and to make them young and strong, and indebted to you. The guys up above...”  

“Oh, I make them healthy and strong as well,” she said. “That gritty façade is...well just a façade. The outward condition of this ship is a disguise to make it a less tempting target for pirates.”  

By this time, she had kicked off her other shoe and was now slumped back in her chair, using both naked feet to massage my cock and balls. I don’t have a foot fetish, but my dick was responding.   

"You’re not pirates?” I asked. “What about the deck guns? And the mercenaries you led into Mexico?  

“Oh, Adam,” she laughed, “we’re not pirates. We’re just protecting ourselves. I served for a time in the Royal Navy; I know a few things about military operations.”  

I pulled at my bondage. “I’m no threat to you, Kate. I’m perfectly willing to join your crew.” 

“I’m sure you are, honey,” she replied. “But to join, you have to be transformed. Otherwise, we dump you back into Mexico where you’ll take your chances with Sanctuary. I’ll keep half the vaccine and a copy of your research notes.”  

The Transformation 

“So, Adam,” she continued, “we come to the big question: Do you want to be transformed? Linda and the others will be given the same options.” 

“Will it cure my cancer?” I asked, quietly. “Pancreatic. Early stages, but...” 

She stopped playing footsies and stood.  

“I’m sorry, Adam, I didn’t know. Yes, I can cure that. With my current experience, I can also reshape you into anything you want to be. Man, woman, Klingon, hobbit, fairy princess...” 

I chuckled but her face said she was serious. Christ.  

“Just a younger, stronger version of myself,” I told her. “So I don’t have to be afraid of jerks like Dom and Cara anymore.” 

“I have just the thing,” she said. She picked up a phone. “Juno, bring in a supply of Delta-6.” 

“Before you make your final decision, Adam, I want to explain something, and then show you something. 

 “The injections of the nano-bots are... not pleasant. You can choose a lot of pain for a short time, or medium pain over several days, but with the added stress that delay entails.” 

“The quicker the better,” I said. “Before I lose my nerve.” 

One of the girls from the shower entered with a tray of large syringes and needles. She was wearing a nurse’s outfit, but it was really only a short, white, sheer halter-top chemise with a Red Cross emblem on it.  

(See what I meant about the dress code on the ship?) 

“Juno,” said Kate, “please prepare my friend...in your own special way.” 

The shapely girl knelt before me, spread my knees apart, smiled and kissed the head of my cock with her bright red lips. I was still a little hard from Kate’s earlier footwork. 

“Here’s what I want to show you,” said Kate.  

Juno started licking my cock, swirling her tongue around the head and running it up and down the shaft. I gasped; that tongue was substantially longer than normal, perhaps twice as long.  

“Juno just loves giving head,” Kate confided. “She worked her way through nursing school in Shanghai as a hooker, thus the skilled fellatio. She was an obese, homely old broad before I modified her.  

“I also added some length and strength to her tongue as a little present for the both of us. I tell you, Adam, she’s even better with pussy than she is with cock.” 

Meanwhile, my stiffening dick was deep inside Juno’s mouth. Her incredible tongue was still swirling around my member, massaging it with eye-rolling ecstasy. The girl did not bring me to orgasm, however; she just wanted me to be big and hard for the three injections. 

The huge needles—one in my penis, one in each of my testicles—hurt like a bitch, and the solution with the Med-Bots stung like an internal acid bath. Thrashing and grunting like a demented man, I was glad to be well-secured to that immovable chair.  

Finally, it was over, and I could relax. Kate sent Juno away, with the same kind of kiss and pat on the genitals she gave the guards earlier.  

“Don’t go far,” I think I heard her whisper to the lady. “I want you to lick the cum out of my pussy later.” 

The pain was easing. And my cock was swelling again; at first, just to its normal size and firmness.  

Then it got harder than it had been since I was a horny teenager, and at least an inch longer than I remembered.  

Kate scanned it with a face of pure lust. “My gift to you,” she cooed. “And to me.” 

She plucked the strings on the side of her bikini bottom, and it slipped right off. Her pussy was bare and beautiful, wet and ready.   

She straddled my thighs and, holding my cock in place, eased down onto it with a guttural sigh. As she gently gyrated her hips to fully insert my manhood up into her womanhood, she removed her bikini top, freeing her perfect tits and perky nips.   

Kate leaned in to kiss me. My cock felt like it was completely cocooned in a tight envelope of heavenly flesh.   

“Besides the changes to my outer body,” she softly told me, “I made a few upgrades to my vagina. I made it tighter and moister. I added pleasure nerves to the interior lining so my whole cunt is one big G-spot.”   

Her pupils were dilated. Her nipples were pointy daggers rubbing against my own.    

“Besides the nerves,” she whispered, “I also added some muscles down there.”  

She was barely moving while sitting there on my lap, but the “heavenly flesh” that gripped my cock now started pulsating, up and down my shaft.   

“I’m not a pirate,” Kate said. “But nowadays I do take what I want, when I want it. Oh, this will be a fun voyage.”  

“To where?” I managed to croak. My throat was dry.   

“Across the Pacific. Back to home port, love. Can you guess where that is?”  

“Japan? Australia?” I ventured.  

In reply, she softly crooned an old standard—one that my grandma used to sing—while her pussy muscles pulsed in time to the beat.   

As she sang a song about a gal taking a guy on a slow boat to China, her breath became ragged, her cheeks flushed. By the time she reached the end of the second verse, we exploded, simultaneously.   

The screams from our earth-shattering orgasms should have brought her security people bursting into the room. I thought perhaps the walls were soundproof.   

As I later learned, the crew were simply aware that their captain was a lusty wench with an insatiable appetite for sex and bondage.   

The Beach Party 

Three weeks later, we were all at Kate’s compound on an island in the South China Sea, celebrating our safe arrival. 

(China was not the nation that attacked us; they had wisely stayed out of the conflict.) 

That evening on the beach was part feast, part orgy, part costume party, with Kate and the crew in wild and/or scanty fetish gear.  

My outfit? The few leather straps of a nearly naked gladiator. I wanted to show off my new muscles, my bronzed skin, and of course, my ten-inch cock. 

Besides its huge length and girth, I now had tremendous control over my penis: I could make it rise on command, keep it hard for as long as I wanted, and ejaculate as much or as little as I desired.  

For her transformation on the ship, Linda had opted for a slim but strong body with a long torso and porcelain skin. Her outfit this night—and many other nights—was a silvery, skin-tight bodystocking that made her look like an erotic android.   

There were openings for her genitals and nipples, of course; she was taking advantage of the lusty men and women at the party. Metallic makeup and a shaved head completed the sexy-cyborg look.  

(Linda was working with Doctor Duncan to use the Med-Bots to add actual cybernetic upgrades to her body: improved vision, hearing, a brain-computer interface. The engineer in her relished the possibilities.)  

The forms that Dom and Cara had chosen were still a bit of a shock to me. Who knows what desires lurk in the minds of people like these? 

The hyper-masculine Dom had become a soft, sexy girl, albeit with male genitalia that was about half its previous size. His slenderized body sported a pair of double-E breasts with permanently pointed nipples. His asshole had been fitted with a lubricant gland, so it was always ready for penetration.   

The same rectal adjustment had been done to Cara, who was now a living sex doll; an embodiment of those computer images of impossibly voluptuous women with big eyes and long blonde hair.   

Her waist was insanely slim, coupled with flaring hips, a bulbous ass and thick thighs that a Kardashian could only envision in a fevered dream. Her pussy was rigged to be continuously moist, often oozing fluids that indecently ran down her inner thighs.  

Her breasts had to be double-O size. They did not sag, as each teat was mostly filled with an artificial substance considerably less dense than human fat cells.   

Still serving penance for their treachery, Dom and Cara were bringing us all food and drink on silver trays. Both were naked except for their metal bondage: two feet of thin chain led from their wrist shackles to their collars.  

They seemed to really enjoy taking breaks from their serving duties to have short, intense romps with the revelers; any person, any sex act.  

In a lighter perversion, Juno was naked and hanging upside down, spread eagle, within a large, rectangular, wooden frame. A pole ran down from the top, holding a combination dildo/vibrator deep into her pussy.  

She was giving an upside-down, blindfolded blowjob to a man kneeling before her, playing a game that she had devised; she would guess which cock she was sucking just by the feel and taste of it. She was pretty accurate, as she had experience with every man on the island.  

When she guessed wrong, the blowjobs would pause, the vibrator would be turned on, and partygoers would flog her from in front and behind. 

(The blows were not hard enough to break skin, but they surely stung. Juno orgasmed several times that night; sometimes, just from the whipping.) 

Linda and I were watching the fun while I fucked her from behind; she was perched on her hands and knees in the sand. Kate approached us, wearing a mini-dress fashioned from a loose weave of fine silver chainmail, and nothing underneath it.   

(Kate loves her chains.) 

She laid in front of Linda, spread her legs and offered her pussy to the android-girl, who eagerly chowed down on the redhead.   

“I have good news from the bio-factory,” Kate told us. “Thanks to the work you two have done, we’ll be ready to mass-produce the vaccine in two days and start shipping in five. First, we save China, then the region, then the world.”  

I stopped humping Linda for a moment to broach a delicate subject.   

“Doctor Duncan,” I began, respectfully, “you know we’re both grateful to you and... your benefactors... for everything you’ve done for us. I’m just a little bit concerned about putting that much power into the hands of a... well, somewhat...authoritarian state.”  

Kate laughed. “Oh, honey-child, did you think I’d leave something like that to chance?   

“The Chinese leadership were among the first to get my Med-Bot injections to make them young and healthy. I may have added a tiny subroutine into the programming to alter their thinking, to reduce the xenophobia and to increase compassion for their fellow humans.”   

She smiled, reassuringly. “I don’t control their every move, but don’t worry, kids. In the history books, we’ll be heroes who saved the world, not villains who ruined it.”  

I had not realized that her invention could influence brain functions. Kate asked us to keep it secret and we both agreed.   

I resumed my thrusts, then paused again.   

“Uh, Kate,” I said, broaching another touchy subject. “Did you do something like that to Linda and me, and to the crew? To make us...compliant? And sex-crazed hedonists?”  

“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “You two had it in you all along. You just needed Mama Kate to free it up. And hot bodies." 

I didn’t believe her; I was not the same person as before. I was going to challenge her, but...  

“Keep licking, dear,” she instructed Linda.  

“Keep fucking her, stud,” she told me. “And why don’t you switch to her asshole?”  

Suddenly, my doubts vanished. How could I have not trusted my dear friend? I pulled out, changed targets and resumed fucking my girlfriend.  

Correction: Our girlfriend. Kate’s and mine. 

What the hell, I thought; a life in chains, if they were heavenly chains, was well worth living.  

And somehow, I was good with that.