This disclaimer must
be read before reading further:
The following story is
fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors or
the close-minded.
Alex Streuth is the pseudonym of the author and a fictional
character in these stories. Any
characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described herein are
entirely fictional (and are based on pre-existing fictional constructs whom and
which the author disclaims to be using within the creative constraints of an
homage or parody.) None of the following
is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to anyone or
anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental.
This story is
copyrighted (December 2005) by the author with permission granted to make
copies only for personal use; they may not be redistributed to others.
The author cannot be
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offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree
not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its
contents.
Thank you and enjoy
the following quality presentation.
--
Prologue:
This story is set in the Stargate
SG-1 universe. This is a fan fiction and
does not in any way wish to impinge upon the intellectual property of the
creators of the SG-1 universe. None of
the plot or actions described herein is suggested to actually take place within
the SG-1 canon, rather, this is an intellectual
exercise, a diversion, to explore some entertaining events which might be
possible within the setting. Again,
great liberty is taken by the author.
Enjoy.
Feedback?
Streuthanasia@gmail.com.
Story Codes: M/f mod horror hum deg nc
ment. Sci-fi
Major Carter’s
Replacement
1 Choices
“Major I called you in here to inform you of something very important. The program is undergoing some budget changes and some restructuring. With the amount of time you’ve served the program cannot afford to pay you at your current salary given the changes to the fiscal budget. You have been an invaluable member of SG-1 but political pressure is forcing me to make some tough decisions.”
Major Carter faced General Hammond in disbelief. She found it hard to take this all in so quickly; she broke protocol and sat down, slumping into the comfortable chair nearby, her face ashen, her expression one of incredulous shock.
“That’s alright, at ease soldier. I know this must be hard for you to take in all at once. Now I understand what this does to you but I’m afraid I don’t have the time or the resources at my disposal to make this any easier. You still have a choice in all this, however, so I want you to listen carefully.”
Major Samantha Carter perked up a little at this last statement by the General, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, there was always hope. She sighed a little, still feeling crushed under the weight of the unyielding force of the fact that no matter how she considered it she was still being fired.
She looked up at the General, who had stood and had clasped his hands together behind his back and had turned and started pacing a bit.
“We can’t afford with our new budget to keep you on at your present salary but we still need to maintain the integrity of the program and will need to still fill your position. Now, you can either keep your job ‘in effect’ by resigning voluntarily and then allowing us to re-hire you at the salary of a starting position, or you can take a very generous retirement package that gives you an amicable percentage of what you would have gotten if you had served with us to natural retirement.”
Major Carter didn’t have to think about that one, she had already made up her mind, it was a no-brainer, money wasn’t the important issue, she would gladly tighten her belt for the team, what was important was that SG-1 needed her and she would be damned if any political hardship the program might face was going to undermine her devotion to SG-1.
“Now before you answer Major I want you to know a few more things. First off, if you do take the retirement package we will still need to keep you on for a few more weeks so that you can train your replacement. And secondly, and I am very sorry about this, but, if you decide not to accept this generous offer and decide instead to resign and then be re-hired at the starting salary you will need to re-apply as well. This means that there will be an interview process, and my hands will be tied. Its against regulations to hire someone based on familiarity when someone more experienced is available.”
“But Sir…”
“Now I know what you’re thinking, that this whole thing is
being run like its a business rather than a military
program, well you have to understand that we’re under
Major Carter swallowed, the General seemed rather upset about this whole affair, and that was making her only more nervous. If he was visibly shaken up by the restructuring then it meant that it really had to be bad. She found herself seriously considering for a moment the thought of simply ‘getting out’ by taking the retirement package. It might not be so bad, she would be able to sleep late, catch up on her R+R, read some books, maybe write a little, become an adjunct at some University…
“Can I have some time to think about it, sir?” She looked up
at
“I’m sorry Major, but I have my orders and I have to have all personnel decisions by the end of today.”
Then it struck her, personnel, plural, this was going to affect everyone!
“Sir what about the rest of SG-1? Teal’c, Daniel, and, and Jack?” She said the last a little breathlessly.
“Teal’c is returning to his own
people, Dr.
That left Major Carter speechless. She was having seriously important thoughts and desires at the moment, her eyes lit up, wild and crazy ideas filled her head, possibilities…
“Sir, I’ll take the retirement package!” She said suddenly, standing up, exuberant and full of vigor. Her eyes had wanderlust in them, she breathed deeply; life was about to get exciting.
--
After the door had closed behind her General Hammond and his office ‘turned off’ as though an actor on a stage going still. From above her enclosure in the mock SG-1 complex which surrounded her Major Carter was watched by covetous eyes, eyes belonging to a race of aliens which had captured her and her team while on a routine exploration of an uncharted world.
Carter had been transported to an alien nexus and there her thoughts plumbed for information on her species and her life. The others had been analyzed as well before being found unsuitable for their purposes and then returned, still in stasis, with the memories embedded in their minds that shortly after arriving on the planet the gate had suffered a massive unexplained power surge and then exploded just as they were leaving. Major Carter, their false memories told them, did not survive the blast, and any future attempts to gate to the world would result in unstable wormhole connections which would be dangerous to attempt.
They would return to Earth to mourn the loss of their comrade.
The aliens meanwhile, who were frail and undernourished things, weak and thin, had been surviving for long periods of time by use of their superior technology. Their world’s resources were almost entirely used up, and their ability to sustain themselves, to nourish their bodies was at an all time low. In short, their world, with its abundant technological marvels housed and kept in stasis this noble and long-lived race of highly evolved mentalists, but it could not provide food for them.
Only a few of them remained alert, those few who had lain in wait, slowly wasting away on carefully rationed energy supplements while they maintained a desperate vigil on their stargate in the hopes that some source of food would arrive. In their emaciated states they dared not venture out of their homeworld in search of food, their long history had survived many galactic struggles and countless wars due mainly to their strict policy of isolationism and their severe heredity of xenophobia.
Thus, they waited, and waited, without leaving their world, afraid to venture beyond their well-fortified and hidden homeworld, and prayed to their god of bounty that some miracle would arrive. The aliens were still silently praying when Major Samantha Carter, United States Air Force, had so nicely arrived in their lap.
2 The Harkturians
Major Carter, still asleep, continued in her waking dream, the audience in her own mind to the drama that the powerful race of beings who now possessed her caused to play out on the stage of her mind’s eye.
Her body lay on a slab table while the four powerful minds of the watch aliens above her. These four aliens, the honor guard of the planet, entrusted to secure food for the entire race while the rest remained in honorable stasis concentrated on the mind of the strange creature below them. She was very peculiar, for they had never seen a human before, despite their aged race. They were not explorers, and kept to themselves and turned their energies inwards instead, focusing on developing their minds and their spiritual energies.
This they had did almost at the exclusion of anything else, their elders and religious leaders convinced that their race would best be served through inner development and accomplishment, this in turn leading to mastery of the secrets of the universe and more success and security through this endeavor than through the mastery of physical space, or, indeed, even space travel.
Over the ages they had become even more adept at their mental abilities and had reached a cultural state of great prosperity but their planet had withered, and was now almost a dead husk. They lacked the food supplies necessary to reproduce, and, finally, faced with the prospect of total civilization loss within a generation they had put their physical scientists, who had always been unimportant and unproductive before (the greater emphasis being put, as a planetary policy, on cultural and societal advancements) the momentous task of achieving some way of putting the whole of the remaining population into an indefinite stasis.
This impossible feat was accomplished, almost at the last moment, by the ingenuity of one of the four honor guards among them, a man (in his own tongue he would be referred to as a Harktu) who had saved his people by mastering (through sheer necessity) the physical sciences necessary to create large long lasting stasis fields. The solution was quite elegant really. They mental powers of the species were quite enormous, and the ones being put in stasis used their mental powers, in harmony, to create the stasis fields themselves. The process was not entirely homeostatic, but would last for a long, long time.
The deficit in mental energy caused over time, however, would have a debilitating effect on those maintaining the fields. The whole of the race was becoming more and more mentally fatigued over time. It was up to those four honor guards to find a renewable food source, and to find a way of rejuvenating their comrades when the time came.
Those four were left with the remains of the planetary resources, to ration out and to use to stay as fit and alert as possible, they represented the epitome of their species, and, at this very moment, they were solving the riddle of Major Carter’s body and brain.
While they kept her occupied in the simple creation they had made for her within her own mind (a dream, in essence) they continued to explore her synapses and her biology, mentally sending probes into her mind and sending tendrils into her body to map and detail her every part. Their research continued:
“Major Carter?”
“Yes, hello?”
“Hi, my name is Walter, I’m to be your replacement, during the next two weeks, I am told, you’ll be training me.”
“Oh yes, General Hammond told me about you, well, its kind of weird training you to be my replacement but I’m eager and looking forward to being able to retire!”
Sam didn’t know why she was so open and forward with this young man (who really couldn’t be any older than a cadet) but she certainly felt happy ever since she decided to retire.
Above her the three minds that constantly guided her and studied her continued to reinforce her decision, sending her positive feedback so that she felt good about going along with their program. The fourth mind above her, the physical scientist prodigy continued to consult the data his colleagues were feeding him and study its potential usage.
“More data on the body structure and on its thinking patterns,” the fourth scientist demanded.
His brethren hastened to comply.
“I’m sorry Major Carter but before you can start training me Dr. Frasier said she needed to see you.”
“Oh, of course Walter, I’m on my way.”
Sam didn’t know why she felt so comfortable talking familiarly with Walter, but it felt good and natural to do so, so she did and didn’t question it anymore. She wondered what Dr. Frasier would need. ‘Probably just a routine physical’ she thought, and then thought that that seemed a natural thing to expect. The Harkturians had gently coaxed the thought into her mind, so that it had seemed to have come naturally.
3 Physical
“You needed to see me Doctor?”
“Hi Sam, come on in, there’s no need to be so formal. We both know each other and since you’re leaving soon I just wanted you to know that I think of you like a sister and that I’m sorry to see you go.”
Even as this thought appeared in her mind there was a short argument between two of the ‘watchers’ (the Harkturians) above. After arbitration by the third of the mentalists it was decided that such niceties were indeed nonessential and inefficient and only served to please the creature they were studying. While the second once against voiced the opinion that such posturing was necessary to achieve trust and rapport with the creature the first once again reminded that their ultimate goal was food extraction and not friendship.
It was most effective, the third agreed, if they treated the
creature as coldly as possible, thus inculcating it against the need for future
niceties and establishing early on the precedence for their needs over its and a lesser expenditure of energy on their
part to obtain what they needed from it.
Time and energy are not luxuries we can afford, it reminded them.
Sam blinked and then experienced a bried Deja’vu as she found herself walking into the offices of Dr. Frasier and saying again, after a short pause, “You needed to see me Doctor?”
Dr. Frasier seemed a little cold and stiff and said simply “Up on the table.”
Sam complied, although a little unsure as to why she was receiving the cold shoulder. After an awkward moment when the Doctor consulted her medical chart (the watchers conferred on their next plan of action) she said simply “Strip.”
Sam furrowed her brow a little bit, but, after a quick glance around to ensure they were alone, began removing her clothing slowly. She got down to her bra and panties and then stopped. The white cotton was not enough to keep her warm but she felt little chill.
The Harkturian responsible for monitoring her thoughts noted this observation and then passed on to the one manipulating the environment the instruction to add the element of temperature to the ‘dream.’
Suddenly Sam felt chilly. She reached out to cover up, shivering a little bit and clutching herself to stay warm. Her nipples hardened and her teeth even chattered a little bit as she looked anxiously at the Doctor.
Dr. Frasier adjusted a thermostat (the other two Harkturians were chiding the third for its distracting use of too much temperature “Remember, the first one said, we are trying to recreate a reasonable facsimile of its subjective reality without distracting it from our instruction or obstructing our data collection. The temperature was noticeable as missing and needed to be added, but to do so unsubtly, as you just did, while perhaps closer to realistic, was not as conducive to our objectives as it could have been. Less intrusion means less chance of creating hostility on its part and will make our jobs easier.”) in the room and it got a little warmer.
Sam felt better almost right away (The physical scientist exclaimed ‘Ahhh, I have just found out, my dear brothers, how to directly control chemical secretion into the bloodstream, it seems that endorphins will make the creature more pliable.’ ‘Excellent’ the others chimed.) In fact, she leaned back and relaxed on the table, she slowly reached up and took her top off, and then wiggled out of her panties, she felt much better now.
“Spread and hold.” Dr. Frasier said.
The inspection began, the aliens wanted to gather as much data as they could on the subject’s reproductive systems, since they needed a renewable food source. It was then that they made their big breakthrough:
“It seems, comrades, that, according to the data contained in the subject’s brain, which I have been plumbing this whole time that you have so expertly been manipulating its perceptions,” the Fourth Harkturian began, “that I have stumbled upon an invaluable feature of the subject, in fact, the very secret which validates my intuitive belief and initial evaluation that led me to believe that this one might have best served us.”
He paused to form a visual expression to his allies, communicating with pictures the function of Sam’s breasts and mammories. In response to a sequence he was showing them which detailed the phenomena of lactation they all stopped for a minute to each evaluate the physical properties of the breast milk before ‘ooh’ing and then bursting into mental applause.
“I will need some time, though, brothers, to resolve an optimal configuration. Please continue to study the creature and prepare it for physical changes.”
Dr. Frasier was talking to Sam, she just noticed, perhaps she had dozed off for a moment (the Harkturans had sedated her while they had viewed the presentation by their fourth. She had of course always been sedated, was now as well, but within her dream she had been sedated, so that her subconscious had fallen still and had only now woken back up.)
“Now Sam we are going to get you ready for your retirement. You have finished training your replacement haven’t you?”
And in her mind Sam played out her training with Walter, while the Harkturans watched her thought patterns and speeded her along her mental discovery. When they had unraveled the inner mysteries and details of her thoughts and synapse actions they tried direct manipulation of her synapse firing.
At first Sam felt a sharp pain in her head (and the monitoring Harkturan noted this sensation response and forwarded it to the manipulator) who then adjusted the timbre of his stroking and caused the synapses to fire at a different cadence, causing the desired reaction.
Sam nodded.
“Good, well, since you have finished training him then he now knows everything about your old job.”
Sam was going to disagree, since he didn’t know everything only the basics, but, after a short struggle where she felt the odd sensation of not quite being sure that she was going to show her disagreement by saying so she instead decided to shake her head no. She was going to shake her head no instead of talking.
Sam nodded. That was okay though, because that was what she was going to do anyway. She was confused, right? No, she knew exactly what she was doing, she filled with self-confidence.
“So basically Sam, you’re obsolete here in SG-1, you’re no longer needed.”
Sam frowned for a second, but, she was full of self-confidence (this was about the limit of the Harkturan’s ability at this point, if she didn’t succumb to the combined effort of the chemical release of endorphins AND serotonin AND manipulated synapse firing then it was simply beyond their ability to induce mental controls.)
She was full of self-confidence but, no, she was full of self-confidence. She beamed and said to the Doctor:
“That’s right!” Her eyes shone, “I no longer have any value here, I’m needed elsewhere much more.”
“That’s right!” The Doctor said back at her, causing Sam to burst into a grin at the reinforcement.
“You’re such a bright girl Sam,” Sam didn’t even notice the familiarity or the patronization that the Doctor was using. (Why do insist on rapport? The argument began again and this time the third sided with the ingratiator’s methods. The reasoning: “This part of the process is not so direct, we must convince the creature that it wants to fulfill a function, and the personage of this Doctor should be as trustworthy as possible so as to convince it of things that are not generally easily acceptable for it.” The counter-argument: “But I just fucking smacked the mental snot out of it! I can fucking tell it what to fucking think, there’s no need for this, I can just zot the piss out of its brain and we can use it as braindead fucking fuel, come on, I am hungry, our planet needs us, let’s eat!”)
The fourth Harkturan at this point cut in, and the others listened: “It is not enough that we have material resources for consumption, we need renewable mental energy to feed the populace as well, the stasis fields have drained their mental faculties over the years and for them to become alert and able again we will need to keep this thing’s meager brain activity as livid as possible. If you exert overwhelming force to render it unable to resist the transformation you will quell its thoughts and its capacity for mental sustenance.”
The three Harkturans all signaled how impressed they were at this insight and, once again, applauded the fourth. He indicated that he had almost reached the plans for an optimal configuration. They had but to prep the animal and they would be ready.
4 Changes
Sam awoke from her waking dream to find her body misshapen and swollen. While she had slept, and dreamed of traveling to her dream world, meeting the most wonderful man, and then eating bon-bons and other delicious foods out of his hands her body had steadily been accumulating mass. What meager foodstores the aliens had left had been slowly fed into her sedated body, so that in the span of little over a week she had gone from her slim and trim 140lbs. of USAF grade fighting frame to a not-so-nimble and in fact rather lethargic largesse of 200lbs.
Two of the Harkturans, under the careful orders of the master physical scientist, had been carefully directing mental energy at Sam’s body to shape and mold that mass, so as to mold it into the specimen in the Fourth Harkturan’s diagram. Sam’s spine was realigned for optimal gravitic foundation, so that she now walked on all fours rather than stood on two.
Her legs were shortened to accommodate her new configuration, with painstaking effort going into the careful direction of energies into her legs to cause reabsorption of the skin, muscle, and bone mass, all of it carefully broken down through the focused mental energies of the Harkturans into amino acids and plasma.
The process of shaping and crafting Sam’s new body from the old was very painstaking and labor intensive, and was not something to be taken into lightly. Each effort was draining and required dehydration and replacement of bodily energy. The honor guards were spending a vast amount of their stockaded resources in this endeavor, one which they knew must not now fail.
The fourth scientist assured them that if the plan was carried out to the letter that they would be the saviors of their race. If they were successful of their shaping of Major Carter’s body into the optimal shape, the shape best suited to feed, the ultimate producer, then they would be able to reproduce her with a net gain of energy.
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” one of the Harkturans voiced. “What about the conservation of mass and energy in the Universe?”
The fourth Harkturan smiled at his colleague and then explained. “You are right, we will have to put resources into the creature in order to get resources out, but, is not all matter and energy in the Universe conserved. What, for example, created our food for us in the first place?”
“Our food is created through a transfer of energy, through processes which transform the energy from the nearby star into enzymes which other animals eat and then which we in turn eventually consume.”
“Yes, so, if we consider that we are using resources already on this planet but not from the sun, how then might we maintain a renewable food source.”
“Well, I suppose,” and here the Harkturan laughed gingerly, only positing this idea as a joke “that if the creature consumed our waste then we might have a way of netting energy.”
“Correct,”the fourth Harkturan replied. “And what might we combine with the waste to create a net? Surely we cannot feed it just our waste as we consume some of what goes in and only expel that which we do not use.”
“Surely you jest,” replied the first, “we will feed this thing our waste?”
“It is the way with plants, do you not see how the trees on our planet, as on this creature’s take in our expelled breath and transform it, using what they need and outputting what we need to breathe?”
“Well yes, but, but, that’s just absurd.”
“Not so absurd, not so absurd when you consider that the alternative is entire planetary-wide civilization failure.”
There was a moment of silence before the first added quietly “I suppose we could feed it low forms of plant life mixed with our waste.”
“That is again correct, the exact optimal ratios I have already calculated, and the factories and processing plants have been prepared ahead of time, I have only to input the desired formulas.”
“But wait,” this time the second one interrupted . . . “If we can operate factories and plants, why not just produce our own food?”
The fourth one sighed. “We cannot survive on lower plant matter. Even our best refineries and plants cannot alter it enough so that it can properly feed us. We will experience diminishing returns. This creature, however, that we are crafting here, will be the ultimate food source. It will give us all of the nutrients we need, using a much more organically refined process which involved a fundamentally sound production facility already built in.” Here he tapped the female’s breast. “We mix our waste and the plant material together, creating a greater mass than we ingested, then feed it to the animal here, and then receive appropriate quantities of food here.” He flashed the sequence delineating lactation to them again, and again they ‘ahh’ed and understood.
“Ok, but, how do we ensure that after feeding it, say, X quantity of Plant (P) + Waste (W), we receive a satisfactory amount of M output such that M > P?”
“The answer, my friend, lies in the chemical stimulation of the mammary glands. If you would like a detailed explanation I can give it to you later, for now just understand that this creature will only yield sufficient quantities of food once we get her primary sacks (again he nudged her breasts) to a suitable size. The important thing is that they be sufficiently proportioned in comparison with the rest of her body weight.”
“What is our target goal for its proportions?”
“Well, using standards that I have plucked from its mind, which seem suitable for our use since I see no reason to invent our own standard, yet, I would say that its dimensions should be at least as heavy as the rest of its body.”
That seemed a reasonable design specification to the others and they didn’t question how he had reached it and simply applauded the reasoning and ability of the fourth and continued the body shaping. In fact the dimensions he had outlaid were simply snagged from thin air, he had no time to test his theories as to what effects such a large pair of primary producers might have on her frame, but he intended, using his scanned knowledge of her physiology to ensure that the main purpose of the creature, that of food production, be as unimpeded as possible by the rest of its body.
Their exact size was not specifically important, he knew. What was most important, however, was that they be large—large enough to feed the four of them at least. Once they had their strength up they could go about the next difficult task, that of reproducing the specimen.
5 Revelations
Sam inspected her body, or at least, what she could see of it. She was on her hands and knees, almost buckling under some massive weight, and looking straight down at the ground. There was something blocking her view though, something fleshy and ‘Oh my god those are my breasts!’
Major Samantha Carter’s breasts hung down from her chest like huge, sagging testacles on a well-hung cock. Her eyes went agog at the sight, there wasn’t any possible way this could be real, this couldn’t actually be happening.
“Oh yes, this is all very real. You are not on Earth, you are not among humans, you are thought dead and long gone. There will be no search team, no rescue, and we are going to experiment on you to discover your physical properties.”
Sam screamed, this wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening.
“I already told you, this is real, this is happening. But I am being inefficient, I am preparing for mental when I have not prepared physical. Here, eat this.”
The alien approached Sam, its skin was a pallid and sickly hue, like a pale green with purple splotches. It seemed to be oozing pus and was slimy and repulsive. She innately recoiled as it approached, but she was unable to maneuver. She could not see her hands so she tried going down onto her knees to take the weight off of them so that she could lift her arms up to view them.
As she went down to her knees her breasts intercepted the floor, their massive drooping sacks resting under her, cushioning her settling onto the floor.
“That is inconvenient,” the creature said, “it denies access to the milk ducts. You will rise back up until instructed.”
Sam was going wild now, her body was all crazy, there was this gross alien approaching her, and she didn’t want it near, no, no not near no, she didn’t… she tried to get back up on her legs, and had to push with her hands, unable to get up much but eventually straining to hoist her tits up off the ground and back onto all fours. Next she tried to stand, but the gravity of her massive breasts held her down. On top of that her back felt locked into it present position, and she noticed that her neck felt weird.
“Oh my god, what the fuck have you done to me you monster?!”
“This isn’t working very well, it…” the alien in front of her stopped talking and started communicating mentally with its brethren:
“It is important for it to resist mentally, I understand that, and for it to be cogent if we are to generate mental nourishment. But some of the specifications of the body seem unsuited to our purposes. For example, what is the purpose of its voice? We do not need to communicate with it, we can read its thoughts and derive all of the nourishment we need from them.”
“Agreed,” the Fourth responded, “an oversight on my part. I focused too much on the primary purpose of the thing and neglected to think of what benefits could be gained by removing some of its superfluous functionality.”
Sam was still screaming, though her voice was getting hoarse, she was so thirsty she realized. She was still ravingly terrified though, and her adrenaline was coursing through her; her body was fully-on in fight-or-flight mode, but with very little ability to do either.
“Nnng,” she strained with herself, trying to lift up her massive breasts, to heft the gargantuanly portioned balloons from under her to gain some mobility, but it as no use. She struggled for a moment more and then burst into tears. This action was unexpected and the Harkonians quickly scanned Samantha’s thoughts to see what the meaning of this physical action was, to excrete tears from her eyes. Satisfied that it was not a defense mechanism, and instead seeing it as a sign that her brain was in optimal condition to seize food from they delighted in it.
“Now that, for example, is a purposeful function. That act… crying, she describes it in her mind as, is a perfect way for her to tell us that she is full of food, it should be left in.” The others agreed.
Sam continued sobbing, unaware that the four superior minds above her were leeching onto her thoughts and feelings and absorbing her mental energy into themselves. She was unaware of the sapping of her mental energy and continued pouring it out in copious amounts, her current state of mind unable to do anything but blubber and breakdown under the stress and pressure of her experiences.
As her mind lay cracked and open to them, fully conscious but expressive beyond reservation the four feasted and felt more alert and alive then they had in years.
In truth Samantha felt no pain and indeed suffered very little ill effect as the four fed off of her brain energy. Surely they could cause much more damage by reaching into her mind and causing a blood vessel to burst, but that was not their intention. Her mind was such a great source of renewable energy because she suffered no physical energy while they fed, rather, instead, the effect was just that, while Harkonian minds actively fed off of her thoughts it became difficult for her to focus or concentrate.
That was really all that she lost, her will, her ability to harden her mind into a fortress, to exercise mental power or exert or muster any sort of spiritual strength. Any defense that she might summon to her aid, such as the attempt to focus her thoughts, or to visualize images was simply sucked away, like vapor. Her mind was indeed an unfillable bowl, try as she might to tap into her mental reservoirs she found them sucked up and away from her, into the greedy maws of the Harkorians above.
Slowly Sam was drained of all of her willpower and spirit, until she fell into a numbed dreamless sleep. She was none the worse for wear, and, the Harkorians observed delightfully, as she slept her mind’s reservoir slowly replenished. When next she awoke she would have a full bowl of food for them to feast on.
“Why this is splendid, but, now that we are rejuvenated, let us implement these changes.” And the Fourth Harkonian illustrated his improvised schematics with gusto, his full mental belly causing him to splurge his mental power on expressive flourishes in his mental delivery to his fellows.
The four set about their task at once, correctly identifying the source of their consternation as the masses organized in her throat, her vocal cords, and the superfluous joints in her limbs, her elbows and knees. All of those masses were broken down, with the aliens’ powerful mental energies, into their building blocks and were reabsorbed into the blood stream. After a few hours the converted mass was coaxed up into her breasts where it alighted perfectly.
The food creature now had two very large, bloated breasts, supported by a set of stiff limbs attached to a bare and a head. The Fourth Harkonian did a quick spec check:
Head, for brain storage.
Torso and Back, for connection and tensile strength, also main support area for THE PRIMARY
Lower body, for WP conversion and reproduction
Limbs, for stiff support of the weight of all secondaries and THE PRIMARY
Breasts, Chest, Tits, Cleavage, Bazongas, (the Fourth Harkonian played around with the different words he had found in the creatures brain, the number of different vocabulary words that the species had to describe the objects suggested that they understood how important they were to the creature’s psysiology.)
THE PRIMARY purpose of the creature is food production in the form of liquid nutrients which the humans call milk but which we Harkonians will dub PRODUCT (or P.)
The function of the creature is to convert WP (Waste + Plant, or WASTE PRODUCT) into PRODUCT.
In short, WP goes into the creature, and out comes P – WASTE. The creature ingests and cleans the WP and then produces a clean, pure substance which we can use for consumption.
The diagram would look something like this:
WP -> (*O*) -> P
|
^- W <
In this manner we can convert plants into milk, at a net
gain of energy.
6 Central Processing
Samantha Carter, formerly Major of the United States Air Force (Major, USAF) now Primary Producer of the Harkonian Waste Product to Product Program (or PP, WP2PP) did not enjoy her life. She goes to sleep drained and slowly, all night, gains the strength she needs to muster some kind of defense against her captors. When she awakes she has a split second when she realizes she is now awake and then remembers that she doesn’t have much time and that she has to hurry if she wants to do anything but then almost immediately, especially after having successfully responded in the way the Harkonians want her to (upon wakefulness immediately alert and paranoid, jumping to sound alarms in her brain that she needs to go into burstful activity right away she brings all of her energy up from her reservoirs and displays it fully at the crest of her mind for all to see.)
Thus the morning buffet begins, the Harkonians who had been hovering above her (when she had been originally captured they were sluggish and moved along the ground, but now that they are much better fed they can zoom along across the sky) waiting for her mind to open up the way a clam or other shellfish does before they can savor the succulent sweetmeat morsels inside.
The pain is quick and calculated, just enough to bring her to the brink of tears and then stops, so that she can consider her own position and fall into that abyss of sobbing herself. The connoisseurs have taken to sampling only this portion of the meal, the flavors of her mind when she goes from just waking up and feeling hopeful to almost abysmal despair. They ride the crashing flavors, sampling the full range of emotions, before leaving the meal to others who are less picky and more interested in stuffing themselves on the expression of mental energy now literally pouring out of her.
As she cries she attracts others who hover above her and then suck the energy from her brain. She can usually feed them for hours on end, the demand for food far outweighing the supply, as more Harkonians are wrested from slumber every day, and not a waking moment goes by when she is not being fed on by at least one of the aliens.
She can feel it now too, the touch of them upon her mind, the gentle, or sometimes, not so gentle, leeching. She can feel her thoughts and her feelings getting sucked up into them, her energy weakening. It feels a bit like having the breath drawn out of you, she has decided. She goes to breathe and the air has been sucked away. This is only an analogy, of course, as she can breathe quite fine, in fact her vital signs are constantly monitored by a nurse Harkorian at all times.
Sam thinks of it as her nurse anyway, although she was formally introduced to him on their first day together as her Tender. Its his job to ensure the steady flow of food from her, and he is responsible for any inefficieny in her production. He feeds her and cleans her, makes sure her waste is directed properly and that her Product is harvested successfully. The occasional Harkonian has tried, just for entertainment sake, to take Product directly from her teat, but this has been very rare. Most of the time the milk is harvested by automation.
“Open,” it says to her, or rather, it just sends an image to her of her mouth being open. She knows better than to disobey. The first time she had tried to be stubborn she had suddenly believed that she was on fire, that her entire body was roasting in searing flames. She opened her mouth to scream and when she had done so the pain and the horrifying sensation of being burned alive had disappeared and food had been plopped into her mouth.
She had spit it back out again right away and then felt as though she had slugs crawling out of her mouth. She was vomiting slugs! It was the most disgusting thing in her life, she continued to vomit and feel revulsion until, when it suddenly stopped, the slop was pushed back into her mouth. Some Harkonians above were feeding off of her mind but it was a pretty slow period and her tender was not engaging in any mental goading to get her mind energy up. He was simply effectively trying to administer to her so that her primary functions engaged.
She thought about spitting the foul vaguely mushy plant mixture out of her mouth but then thought better of it when she remembered with a shudder how disgusting it was to vomit the slugs. She swallowed. Immediately she was in a field and there was a rainbow and she was back on Earth.
She reached out to embrace Colonel O’Neill who was smiling at her and telling her he loved her and then the tableau vanished and she was again faced by her Tender who was shoveling another heap of the mess into her mouth. She swallowed more quickly this time, ready to feel O’Neill’s embrace.
She was once again in the meadow on Earth with the rainbow in the distance but O’Neill was still too far away to reach. He seemed actually to be somewhat farther away. She saw the Tender and he shoveled another load of WP into her mouth. She could actually barely somewhat breath around its stench and she barely chewed it or retched but instead swallowed it as fast as she could.
O’Neill was there, a little closer, but, the Tender was there and she received another shovelful. She swallowed as fast as she could, knowing that she would see Jack as soon as her mouth was empty, there he was, she reached out to him.
In all of the months since then she hadn’t quite reached him, and he hadn’t appeared every time since then, in fact he seemed to have been appearing less and less recently but she nevertheless dutifully swallowed every load so as to earn the chance to see him. She knew that if she did it fast enough she’d catch him and be happy again, and, she secretly knew, if she ever reached him, he would pull her out of all this.
--
Her belly had been getting full but the Fourth came by and adjusted her metabolism, so that she kept very little food in her stomach now. Every once in awhile he would come by to increase it again, until he taught someone else how to do it and now her Tender had another job to do. He would feed her as fast as she would swallow and increase her metabolism so that her mammories were working at maximum output. She would fill up with swollen sacks of milk and then have it collected from her by a mechanical device.
Oddly enough, since her metabolism was constantly tweaked to match her intake she stopped associating being ‘full’ with having a full belly. Instead she only balked at eating when her massive tits were filled to the brim with milk.
It took her little time with her Tender to get into a rhythm where he would see that she had stopped eating and then check her teats. Over time he got more familiar with her cycle and could anticipate it. This became unnecessary as the Fourth came by and adjusted the machines so that they would automatically milk her when she was full of milk.
Then, after about three months in to her regimen she had stopped thinking of herself full when her teats were full, since the machines were automated, and they sucked when her tits filled with milk, instead, she thought of herself as full when the machines reservoirs had filled and the tanks that stored her expressed milk could not hold any more. It was then that she stopped eating and the Tender signaled for the tanks to be taken away and replaced. The collected tanks would then be served to the Harkonians in dishes prepared in elegant fashion.
After about four months of this routine Samantha no longer noticed her Tender’s presence, nor that her tending to had become completely automated. The Tender appeared to still be there, thanks to a lingering and persistent illusion, but in fact she was fed by pump now. When she stopped eating the tanks were collected and then after a short pause she was fed again. Her waste drained down into the collection tank to be processed to create more WP to feed her with. The waste from the Harkonians, previously collected for treatment at sewage plants was now treated and mixed for WP creation.
Since Samantha was the first and only Production Unit there was a very large amount of WP awaiting her, in fact a veritably inexhaustible supply, and it was fed to her as fast as she could consume it. Her hair grew and eventually got in the way of her feeding, it was removed and collected for WP creation, and the biological imperative to grow new hair was suborned.
In fact in a fairly inspired moment the Fourth Harkonian went over all generative processes in Samantha’s body that weren’t necessary (hair, nails, etc.) and directed those dead cells to instead be exfoliated as normal and not collected internally by the body. All exfoliation thereafter was collected for WP creation. He was trimming his machine, he thought that it was about as perfect as it could get, and it was time for mass production of the design.
6 Reproduction
Sam woke up, she had a second, she had to do something, suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, suuuuuuuuuuuuck, suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, oh, she, she, she had to, think of, something……
*Droooooooool*
Slurp, suck, suck.
*Droool * *Sobbing*
“Sniff, ohhh, hnnn, hnn, hnn, hnn.”
Suuuuuuuck, sluuuuuurp, suck, suck, suck.
“Oh noooo, noooo, oh ho ho ho ho. Oh wahhhhhhhhhhh.”
The morning went on as usual. After a few moments her mouth was filled and she automatically swallowed, ignoring the sharp taste in her mouth. She felt empty.
A few hours later she stopped swallowing. She stopped crying a moment later, she had forgotten why she had been crying. It was so hard to think.
She breathed. The food stopped and the tanks were collected. The sucking on her brain had stopped.
She could form thoughts, could form whole sentences in her brain, ok, now:
“Oh my god what have they done to me! My breasts, what the fuck have they done to meeeeeeeee!”
SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!
SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK!
“Oh my gooooooooooooood nooooooooooooooooooo!”
Suuuuuuuck, suck, suuuuuuuuuck, suck suck, suck, suck, suck . . .
“No no no no noooooooo . . .”
*Sobbing*
*Drooling* *Sobbing*
The drool signals the automated feeding unit to pack her mouth again with the soft loam of the WP.
*Swallow, gulp, smack*
*Swallow, gulp, smack*
Suuuuuuuck *Gentle sobbing and anguish* Suuuuuuuck.
--
The break in the routine comes that afternoon, she feels something strange down below, she has been gently excreting all morning as usual, feeling no more shame at letting her waste drop down from her like a horse when she feels a searing pain in her vagina.
“Next time she will feel nothing,” Fourth Harkonian reflects.
He makes a note to numb the clitoris, and then rolls his eyes at the
fact that he is making the note, he can do it now. He numbs the clitoris on the producer, and
then notices that the nipples share a similar nerve bundling. He contemplates numbing them as well but then
considers that they are actually beneficient to
PRIMARY FUNCTION as they encourage the unit’s PRODUCT expression.
He regards it for a moment, watching it gently push out waste from its nethers, and sees it swallowing in the same moment, draw in breath, clench its buttocks and then express milk. It is functioning at optimal efficiency, he is pleased.
He takes a moment to run his mind over her inner workings. He watches the food enter her throat, slide down and enter her stomach. He watches it sit there almost not at all before it is practically sucked down into the intestines and then speedily digested by the bacteria and bodily functions of the endocrine system.
He watches her breasts from the outside, such large bulbous sacks as they swell slowly, as though juicy berries ripening in the sun. He can feel their weight with his mental perceptions, and can guess their weight, empty, at around fifty or sixty pounds each. He nods, that fits with the initial design specs, as the SECONDARY system, IE, all of the Major’s body besides the grotesquely large tits, weighed roughtly 110lbs. when they were done ‘trimming all the fat.’
The PRIMARY system weighed approximately 115lbs.
He mentally pictures the PRIMARY system detached and floating up away from the SECONDARY and then puts them on an imaginary scale in his mind. He sees the gigantic tits slowly descending and the rest of the body, including the head, skull, hind, and all of the bones slowly going up.
He mentally adds mass to the PRIMARY side as he imagines them filling up with their precious cargo of PRODUCT. The acceleration of plunge increases as the PRIMARY unit weighs more and more. In his imaginary weign-in he sees the tits falling faster and faster under the weight, getting more and more swollen until, almost ready to rupture, the milking begins and the unit expresses itself.
Eventually the scales balance again, albeit only when the waste accumulates in the unit’s colon and the food in the intestines, stomach, throat and mouth is taken into account.
He views the system in front of him this way, as though a bird bending forward with its beak to peck a glass of water. When it falls all of the way forward it then bobs back up and then slowly begins its cycle again.
When all is in order the PRIMARY and SECONDARY bodies will work in tandem, taking input in and producing output at amiable rates.
As he walks away he notices with satisfaction that, even though he impregnated her with the enhanced synthetic sperm only moments before the unit is already well along into her second trimester. It will produce another unit tomorrow.
After the searing pain goes away Sam is curious for a small space of time but the saps on her brain quickly banish any coherent thought. She doesn’t even reflect upon the fact that, for the rest of the day she eats and eats and never enough milk to be collected.
7 Mass
Production
The zygote reached maturity in twenty four hours. The Primary Unit gave birth this morning successfully. She produced an exceptionally excellent mental foodstuff after she realized what was occurring. The second unit was secured and its progress is being expedited as we communicate. The Primary Unit was reimpregnated, not noticing anything this time and can expect to bear fruit again tomorrow. The unit produces very little PRODUCT while pregnant, as all of its productive energy is consumed with the rapid growth in its womb.
Once we get the second unit up we can expect food production to resume. In the meantime we can expect, at least for now, excellent mental yield on the Primary unit.
--
Two days later the newly born feeding unit reaches maturity. Mentally it still has approximately the mind of young girl, but developmentally it has reached full maturity, its PRIMARY unit has grown in the same manner as its mother’s, so that, at the end of its first day its bust had grown to the size of large basketballs, while the rest of its body, sans hair and other unnecessaries (thanks to the customizing of the sperm) has reached the physical maturity level of a fourteen year old.
At the end of the second day it had reached full maturity, possessing the body of a twenty-eight year old with tits to match those of the Primary Unit’s (its mother’s.) Its body was proportioned exactly as Major Carter’s, with all of the design changes intact. Fourth Harkonian kept the unit for observation for an additional four hours before putting it into service.
The unit performed perfectly. It had taken two days to produce a woman of full psychical maturity but the mind of a twelve year old. On top of that the modified pituitary ensured that the development of the SECONDARY systems were stunted while the growth of the PRIMARY unit was enhanced. For the records of future ‘Food Processing Engineers’ Fourth Harkonian recorded the development procedure for review:
Birth – Hour Zero
The subject should be fed.
After birth the subject resembled a normal human baby girl.
One hour after birth the subject has reached the size of a one year old human girl.
For each hour thereafter the subject increases in size correspondingly.
Four hours after birth, the subject should be fed; again at eight, twelve, and sixteen hours after birth.
Sixteen hours after birth the subject’s SECONDARY sytems have reached full physical maturity, that of an sixteen year old girl, except that no development of PRIMARY systems has developed.
16 hours – Full Physical Maturity – Hour M
Thirty-two hours remain in the full development cycle.
The unit now goes into PRIMARY development mode, all of the growing powers that would normally operate in a normal female girl from ages 16 to 22 [age 22 is the median when all physical growing stops in human females] a full six years of growth is now directed entirely to the PRIMARY systems. All growth up to this point has been to develop SECONDARY systems that can support fully developed PRIMARIES.
17 hours, or 1 hour after M, = M+1 or M1 hours.
The subject should be fed once every half hour as this is the most crucial stage in its development. Any deficiency here could stunt its growth in an important and functioning threatening way. Feeding should be in increasing increments as growth continues as the added mass will require more food to maintain proper growth.
As the PRIMARIES are developing they should be massaged, oiled and rubbed with lotion to ensure the ease of any sudden growth spurts. Additionally all measurements here are approximate, and your unit can vary as much as 2-10 inches per increment, depending on how precocious it is.
At M1 hours the growth of the developing PRIMARY can be measured 2 inches from the rib cage.
For each hour thereafter the growth of the developing PRIMRARY measures an additional two inches from the rib cage, so that:
At M2 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human D cup.
The subject is developing at a proper rate.
At M3 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human F cup.
The subject, while still small, has reached a modest developmental stage.
At M4 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human H cup.
The subject has some small value at this point.
At M5 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human J cup.
The subject is developing nicely.
At M6 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human L cup.
Subject’s development continues properly.
At M7 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human N cup.
The subject now displays a PRIMARY unit that has the capability for some use.
At M8 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human P cup.
The unit is now ready for upright positioning on all fours, so that the PRIMARY can take its proper place hanging in comfort and safety beneath the SECONDARY unit.
At M9 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human R cup.
Development continues in this position so that gravity can hold the developing PRIMARIES.
At M10 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human T cup.
Subject has some moderate value at this point, but still has a lot of development to go.
At M11 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human V cup.
The subject now has reached a proportion where they can be easily managed.
At M12 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human X cup.
If the subject’s growth stops at this point it can be considered a growth hiccup, but will resume shortly.
At M13 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human Z cup.
The unit has now reached the end of its larval stage and is ready to emerge.
At M14 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human BB cup.
The Producer has reached a sufficient size to be put into light use occasionally.
At M15 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human DD cup.
The Producer merits some attention at this point.
At M16 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human FF cup.
The Producer holds some moderate value now.
At M17 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human HH cup.
The Producer is continuing to develop at a nice rate.
At M18 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human JJ cup.
The Producer can now be used for light use on a fairly regular basis.
At M19 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human LL cup.
The Producer has passed into its larger stages of development, and at this point should be moved rather than asked to move, as the PRIMARIES cannot be supported except in a stationary position.
At M20 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human NN cup.
The Producer is ready to accept moderate to heavy usage, on a normal basis now.
At M21 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human PP cup.
If development of the PRIMARIES stops for a short period of time some additional food may be necessary to ensure proper growth.
At M22 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human RR cup.
Constant feeding is required beyond this point as the PRIMARIES consume an enormous amount of energy during the rest of the growth. Any growth beyond this point is considered the ADOLESCENT stage.
At M23 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human TT cup.
At the beginning of the ADOLESCENT stage the PRIMARIES can be finicky and unruly, make sure to be firm and stern at this stage of their growth.
At M24 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human VV cup.
At this point the PRIMARIES are rebellious and can often behave badly unless quieted with balm and ointment.
At M25 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human XX cup.
This is still a very rough spot in their development, and caution should be exercised.
At M26 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human ZZ cup.
The PRIMARIES require attention and care or their growth will be stunted, maintain constant vigil past this point.
WARNING: M27 is the most dangerous hour of development, the SECONDARY unit sometimes seeks to usurp the PRIMARY, some theorize to try to take back the stolen growing power. At this point the SECONDARY units must be encased in tight binding material to ensure no possibility of growth: Use tight bindings and hold steady on the enclosures to ensure maximum squeeze on all but the PRIMARIES.
At M28 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human
DDD cup.
The PRIMARIES should be kept free and flexible so as to ensure proper flow of
growth and hormones.
At M29 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human FFF cup.
The development is almost over and you can proudly set your unit up for use at any time for any duration.
At M30 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human HHH cup.
This is known as the golden stage of development, you now have an adult pupate and it can be released from its bindings and set free. The PRIMARIES will develop easily now.
At M31 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human JJJ cup.
The unit has almost fully developed and can be used at any time for any length of time, for heavy use.
At M32 hours the bust has reached the size of a normal human LLL cup.
This is the last hour of development. Watch the PRIMARIES, sometimes they will grow past this stage a little bit. You now have an adult Producer, fully formed and functional in every way.
Custom dictates that the fully formed adult be spanked on the bottom to make sure that it cries and to ensure that the PRIMARIES display a healthy bounce of vigor or jiggle of vitality.
Fourth Harkonian finished documenting his notes and adding his personal memos to them; he turned his attention back to the new producer: He now had a beautiful adult unit. Its body was sixteen years old, its breasts were fully developed and ready for use at an adult bust size of 66” (a variance of +2”.)
Using a mixture of Harkonian jargon and Earth language this would easily later be referred to as a ‘Dodo with a 66” wingspan.” This term referred to the woman’s body as a ‘large, flightless bird’ but if you were to take its PRIMARIES and spread them out to the side’s perpendicular you would get a ‘wingspan’ of 66”. When transporting a unit the Harkonians would lift them up with the power of their minds, and, since they were classified by size this action of ‘spreading the wings’ was important so that size could be easily seen.
--
Sam was impregnated again the following day, her belly swelling up and then depositing a crying, live living baby girl exactly like the last into the waiting arms of a mechanical arm ready to sever the umbilical, clean up the placenta, deposit all collectibles into the WP pile and then transport the growing unit to a growing center. Along the way the new unit is fed mother’s milk out of a plastic teat from a tank.
Once under way, after the initial 2-day wait on the first grown unit there followed one unit every day thereafter.
The new units had the mind of a young girl, between twelve and sixteen years of age. They are very confused at their surroundings but not upset by them. They exhibit the same curiousness as a rambunctious youngster and often get overtaken with the urge to run around and engage in mischief.
This behavior is often displayed by the units pretending to at some points in time not swallow their food. This causes the girl to fed twice as much before she swallows it all, much to the amusement of her peers. The food tastes pretty good to them, although they share a vague memory of mother’s milk as a babe.
Their brains are constantly imagining things, like what the ground looks like on the other side of the corner, or how far one could spit if one’s mouth wasn’t constantly full of food, or which girl’s bald head is the shiniest or whether she can make funny faces in the reflection on the other’s pate.
Sometimes the girls try to communicate with each other, but they know to eat their food, its something they’ve done since they were one hour old, and they don’t think anything of defecating where they eat or of why they all have big, bulging sacks jutting from their fronts.
The Harkonians can still feed on their minds just as well as Sam’s, although they don’t display a full arrange of tastes as she does. Sam’s thoughts, those of the Primary Producer are still considered premium and gourmet, and those that can crowd around her do.
But the other producer units, the Non-Sams, the Sames, they all have minds that have thoughts, ideas. They also display affection towards the God-beings that fly around them and look so beautiful. A lot of the girls fantasize about what it would be like to able to fly like them, or to look as beautiful as they do. They think that they themselves look ugly, toad-like, disgusting because of their soft, smooth skin.
The bumpy, pussy texture of the flying Dieties is much better than their own. Such thoughts flitter through their minds and, at such an impressionable age they quickly develop a sense of inferiority and worthlessness.
Those younger maids, the ones fresh from the womb, who are fully developed (freshly planted, the saying goes) have much more virginal minds, due to lack of contact over time with the vain and superior feeling Harkonians.
Having no time to develop on their own they are left with the leftover afterthoughts of the Harkonians who drain their minds. With Sam the drain creates a disruption of her thoughts, but she at least had to time to develop an ego. With the new planted Producers their minds are practically blank, as juvenile and innocent as a twelve year old girls.
--
The Harkonians fly over her, she has just been newly planted. She has only started to produce, and doesn’t know anything or anyone besides the sensation of sucking from a bottle, fresh, warm milk, and then the sensation of growing topheavy, extremely topheavy, very fast, but it felt normal, because she had never felt anything else.
And then, with this huge pair of sacks jutting off of her chest she was planted firmly into the ground. (There is simply no other way to describe it, she was lifted from her growing area, picked up, carried mentally to her current station, in the dirt and soft loam near a WP plant, and placed in a shallowly dug grave to live out the rest of her days. She is in the soil, a little bit, her limbs support her, she makes waste into the soil behind her, she eats from what is shoveled into her mouth from in front.
Her home is in a waste dump, the loam fresh product from the drainings and droppings of the Harkonians, who live above. The plant nearby also makes deposits, the WP is sifted, by gravity and by occasional irrigation, to keep it moist, so that the units stay hydrated, and in general the maintenance of the units is ignored. They sit, they think soft thoughts, the Harkonians flit about occasionally to pick their brains—but more and more the modern plants have automated thought pickers, tubes that suck out their thoughts and feelings and waft them into clear little containers for later consumption.
The life of a Producer can be fairly uneventful. As with this new one: She has woken up for the day, she was having the most wonderful dream about, something, she didn’t know for sure what it was about. Anyway, so, so oh look, there’s her friend.
“Will you be my friend,” she says with her eyes to the Producer across the way, an older girl who has been here for several years.
The other girl doesn’t respond, she’s rather dead in the eyes, she slurps down her WP and processes it, her PRIMARIES churn out P and it is carefully collected and transported in underground automated express, its valuable cargo quickly taken out of the neglected area the Producers live in. None of the girls really knows what their tits do, they just feel a sucking occasionally and think its normal. You eat, you shit, you lactate, but the only thing that really matters is… nothing really.
The eating is natural, its all the time, the other stuff, it happens less often but its not really noticeable. The girls used to have trouble with their jaws but Number Four fixed that, they are much more comfortable with permanently open mouths now.
Some of the wakening Harkonians are rather amused by the set-up and go and torment the girls, eliciting fresh flavors from them, but they are quickly turned off by the stench and the atmosphere of the ‘Loam Patches.’
The girls have no caste in society, they are like plants or animals, they produce a resource, they fulfill a mechanical need, they aren’t even thought of as human. They have no concept of themselves or their history.
8 Major Carter Epilogue
Colonel O’Neill never really believed that Sam was dead. The same way that Daniel Jackson could never believe that his wife was dead O’Neill never believed that Sam was.
He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t work, he was a mess. Ever since that day they had visited that planet and Sam had… had died.
But no! He couldn’t give up, she couldn’t be dead!
He snuck off and activated the Stargate
with out permission, behind
He prepared to go through the wormhole, he was going to investigate the world Sam had supposedly died on.
He stepped through… he wasn’t killed automatically, as he had thought he would, he was here, on some gray, colorless world. There was some person nearby, covered in dirt, a woman, he walked up to her.
It was Sam! It was! He was so releieved, but what was this? It was not the Sam he knew, the Sam he knew had legs, and arms, and not these gargantuan distorted tit sacks for a body!
He ran away in disgust back through the wormhole, never to return!
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Sam awoke from her nightmare. She glowered up at Harkonian Number 2, her tormentor, the alien who stopped by every night to make sure that she had another nightmare. He resented the fact that he received the least credit for her capture and reformation and saw fit to antagonize her with mental constructs to make himself feel better.
She was back in the dream, but no, it wasn’t a dream, it was real!
There was O’Neill, he saw a figure in the dirt, it was Sam! It looked just like her, oh Sam, oh Sam. But wait, that’s not me! That’s one of the others, who has my face. No don’t take her!
“Oh Sam Oh Sam I don’t care what you look like, I love you!”
No, don’t take her, that’s not me, no, not back through the wormhole, that’s not me!
She was back in the dream, it was real this time!
Oh Jack, its you, you came for me. He doesn’t see me, he sees the girl to the side of me, he looks her over, he knows its not me, he’s going to the next one.
He’s looking at her, he knows its not me, now he’s coming to me!
He’s looking at me, he knows its, wait, wait, Jack, Jack, its me, Sam, why can’t I talk, what’s going on, no, don’t walk away, I know we all look the same but its me Jack!
The Sam across the way shouts out ‘Jack, oh Jack its me Sam, your one true Sam, come rescue me!”
But no, that’s not me, I’m me, she’s, she’s, she’s lying!
Jack!..................
Sam wakes up, she’s not in a dream, she knows its real this time, and…
--
And the milk flows, and the thoughts flow, and the Harkonians are happy, their once almost extinct race can thrive again, thanks to a mysterious and miraculous renewable energy source. A very efficient race, the Harkonians, who only became vegetarians by necessity after they had hunted all of the other animals on the planet, don’t mind using what comes naturally when one of the ‘plants’ die.
Well, they wouldn’t mind, except that some of the elders can still remember tales of a human culture from the memories and thoughts of the now mystical First Producer, which had been discovered in during the ‘Time of Need.’
It was said that during the ‘Time of Need’ a food source arrived, as prophesized, and it was called The Cow Plant. This magical plant grew up from the dirt and the waste of what are now known as Cow Pies, and formed, fully mature, from the manure. It produces all of the food that the Harkonians now eat. According to newly rewritten history The Cow Plant is not, and never has been, sentient and was sent by a divine being to supply food to the Harkonians, its only purpose to be a resource for their use.
--
When the time had passed when those who were old enough had died, and the only ones left had grown up on milk and bottled thoughts, out of containers with no need to interact with the loam fields (long since sealed over and made self-contained) a new food was introduced, according to the instructions, recently unsealed, of the late great Honor Guard Number 2.
His instructions amounted to the simple addition of a few lines of code to the food processing computer, a now antiquated and enigmatic device. The programming had to be done by copying the script, as no one alive new how to operate it, much less program it.
Thus it was that Honor Guard Number 2 added his legacy to the Harkonian civilization:
The computer inserted genes from the original Samantha Carter into one cow per planting season. It was infused with a singular strand of Gou’uld gene. This kept Samantha fully intact in every way except gave her genetic memory, the way that the Gou’uld pass memories on from generation to generation.
The first Sam planted this way remembered everything from her life, possessed the body of a Cow Plant, lived in the Cow Patties in the twilight under the Harkonian cities, amidst the loam and the WP plants, and knew the plight of every other Cow Plant there. She knew that each of them was a copy of herself, albeit without her knowledge, but she suffered, in the dark, in that knowledge, with a complete memory of everything her life could have been, should have been, and able to relive all thirty years of her life prior as the First Producer.
She produced milk, and lived, and eventually died, knowing that she would be reborn soon, and with her complete memories plus all of those of the currently expiring life as well.
When she died the second order of the 2nd Harkonian’s script was carried out, as it was on all dying Cow Plants, their meat was processed and then sold, fully cleaned and cooked, as Samburger, for the discriminating Harkonian’s palette.
The next day, a fully reborn Major Carter ‘stood’, newly planted in the loam fields, surrounded by very familiar sights as on the day before, when she had died, and contemplated her life. She broke down in tears, crying out in her sobs “Oh Jack, oh jack…”
The thoughts bottled from that particular strain of Cow Plant are always of a sharp and particularly pleasing vintage, and, though rare, it is much sought after by all Harkonians of breeding. They love to sample her fresh and pungently refreshing bittersweet aroma of misery and despair.
Each generation the brew gets more and more refined.
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by Alex Streuth
A great piece if you like my
work (at its most creative and/or sadistic.)
This piece marks a diversion from my normal settings and also marks my
first SciFi
FanFic. I wrote this story around this particular
character as a service to those who had expressed a desire to read something
centered around her.
I discovered part of the way through that the Science Fiction bend
allowed me to experiment and play with themes and ideas that allowed for all
kinds of fun ways to dehumanize women. That
benefit was helped by the fact that I was using a ‘premade’
personality, IE, Major Carter, but I hope that for all of you who don’t watch
the show you can see the character as simply a fairly well developed female character
who had, before I plucked her up for my own use, grown as a person in a persistent
storyline over the course of almost a decade.
Enjoy.
-AS
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Lastly, the author disclaims
that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of
behaviors and/or ideas are healthy much less conscionable. It is my intention to provide a well-written
adult story that allows the reader to indulge in a fantasy setting. Feedback is welcomed, and you may write me at
Streuthanasia@gmail.com
--
Reader suggestions are always
welcomed and I am sure if you have a specific situation, person, item of
clothing, object, body part or interaction etc. (read: fetish) that you wish
inserted into the busy schedules of the exacting Dr. Spencer and Mr. Streuth please do not hesitate to contact me regarding
it. I will see it I can fit your order
into their schedule, or bring it up at the next Cherish Board meeting. –AS
Please check out Alex Streuth's Stories
(www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Alex_Streuth/www/)
for a comprehensive study.