Incorporated

(by Doctor Smoke, 04 September 2010)


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Incorporated
by Doctor Smoke

The wreckage was quite severe. The ship had been small, by Hive standards,
but it had left an impressive mark on the landscape, twisted black steel
strewn across the frozen earth. However, lying at the end of a path of
scorched ground was about twenty square meters worth of mostly intact vessel.

This was the find of a lifetime for Commander Abbey Bridgestone. The Hive
were reclusive at best; very little had been heard or seen of them by the
Confederation. They kept to themselves, remaining in Hive-controlled systems.
The few Confederation ships that had ventured into those systems were never
heard from again. The Confederation, generally a peace-loving human alliance,
opted to "respect the Hive's autonomy as a human civilization." The real
reason for the stalemate was fear: the Hive's technology appeared to greatly
outclass that of any of the other alliances.

The mystery of the Hive greatly appealed to Abbey. From a young age the myths
and legends about them piqued her interest. Vastly older than the majority of
the other human factions, they were rumored to predate even the vast Human
Empire which fell during the most recent of the dark ages. As such, it was
very difficult to separate the fact from the fiction.

In the Academy, Abbey specialized both in anthropological/historical studies
to root out these stories, and computer engineering to study what little was
known of the Hive's technologically-driven hive mind and cybernetics
expertise. The Hive were something of a taboo subject, imposing as they were,
but Abbey's interests nevertheless landed her a position in the Confederation
Intelligence Corps as a specialist. When long range probes detected this
crashed ship outside of Hive space, she had been dispatched immediately to
the ship Sunderland for a salvage mission.

As she approached what was left of the ship, her stomach seemed to flutter,
light as air, throughout her insides. She was technically in charge of the
Sunderland's landing party of security and engineering personnel, but not
being one for the leadership role she had allowed them to lead the way thus
far. Now that she was near her quarry, she quickened her step, out-pacing the
cautious landing party. Large areas of the smooth black hull was intact, but
where the hull had been rent apart in the crash landing she could slip
inside. As she carefully but quickly entered, the armed members of the team
exchanged worried glances and followed her one by one, while the engineering
crew began preparing the wreckage to be towed to the orbiting starship.

The interior of the ship was very dark, the only light emanating from the
tear in the hull. As Abbey fumbled for her light and sensorum device to scan
the room, she was struck by the pungent odor that clung to the interior. Hive
thralls were distinctive not only for the cybernetic additions to their
bodies, but also for the burning cylinders that were ever present in their
mouths, held in place by machinery, and perpetually supplying the thrall with
the smoke that emanated from them. This must be what real cigarette smoke
smelled like. She found the sensation quite overpowering, but was a bit
disappointed that she found the smell unpleasant.

But not nearly as much as the first soldier who entered, his light already
out, coughing immediately as he came through the tear. Momentarily
distracted, Abbey turned back away from the soldier to survey the now
better-lit ship. It was in complete disarray, instrumentation strewn across
the small room she was in. Now refocused, she activated her sensorum and
scanned the ship. Only fleeting signs of small active power sources appeared,
but she quickly locked in on her true quarry: one faint sign of a possibly
living crew member. A real live thrall.

Abbey made her way with an amount of trepidation that the security team
following her found grossly insufficient. Hurrying through the halls,
stepping over and around panels and machinery and dead thralls, she followed
the scanning device's readings to the living thrall. The female (to be
expected, as all known thralls were female), was badly injured, probably only
living now due to the hard work of the implants. "Medic! This one's alive!"
Abbey shouted excitedly, and one of the team was dispatched to get one.


The wreckage had been towed to the Sunderland, and was now sitting in a cargo
bay that had been retrofitted as a lab for Commander Bridgestone. It had been
a week since the find - the thrall was still disappointingly unconscious in
the medbay. The Sunderland was still in orbit around the small planet that
the wreck had been found on - since there had been no sign of Hive activity
to retrieve the ship themselves, the Confederation had stayed to make sure
all relics had been acquired. In the meantime, Abbey had been very busy
cataloging the find, sleeping very little, since she was the only person
aboard with sufficient security clearance to work on the wreck. Her proudest
artifacts were a mostly intact station which she surmised to be some sort of
regeneration alcove, and a small, rectangular box.

The alcove included a seat and many robotic appendages that were probably for
servicing the cybernetic implants. Large blank screens stared out from all
sides of the chair. She had spent some time hooking the alcove up to an
energy source, adapting sensorum devices to the various ports on the machine,
and attempting to turn it on so she could get a look at the software on it.
She had met with no success.

The box, however, was very special. According to her scans, it contained
about ten actual cigarettes. The rest of the box seemed to contain unknown
machinery, probably for interfacing with a thrall's suit. She had found other
boxes like it, but only this one had an active energy signature, the rest
were damaged beyond repair, their payloads destroyed in fires aboard the
ship.

Abbey, who feared the Hive less than any other human she knew, was afraid of
this box.

She had found it early on, attached to the suit of the living thrall. It had
a round indentation in the center, with lights moving in colorful circular
patterns around it. Having set it aside during her cataloging, it called to
her throughout the process. Having been stumped by the alcove, she
hesitatingly turned her attention to the box. It felt light and smooth in her
hands as she turned it over and over. In her fatigued state, she found the
lights on the surface slightly mezmerizing. Once again staring down the side
with the indentation, she slowly ran her fingers over it directly.

A previously invisible circular hole in the narrowest end of the box appeared
and immediately deposited a ten centimeter long cylinder, orange for about
two centimeters at one end, and clean white for the rest. The tip of the
orange end was white, but the white end's tip was filled with finely cut
brown flakes. Abbey had an actual cigarette in her hand. In her *hand*. Even
Abbey knew very little about the Hive's cigarettes. What did the smoke
contain that was useful to the thralls who constantly puffed on them? Her
personal theory was that some chemical in them was useful to the cybernetic
implants, but that was just conjecture.

The lighting on the box had changed. Seemingly random before, now it seemed
to direct attention to the circular indentation, which had begun to glow and
emanate heat. Now firmly entranced by the lights, Abbey absentmindedly
brought the orange end of the cigarette to her lips, just like a thrall.
Slowly, fixed on the lights, she held the box aloft and inched the orange
glow toward the tip of the cigarette, as if she were taking her time. Less
than a centimeter from the indentation, she looked up suddenly.

Of course! Her theory! The machinery may be activated by the smoke! Almost
dropping the box, she grabbed a sensorum device, quickly locating many ports
on the alcove that she's previously overlooked, ports that could easily be
intake sources for the smoke. Smoke that would be ever present on a Hive
ship, but absent here. Now all she needed to do was ignite the cigarette
using the box and test her theory.

The cigarette that was still between her lips. Her initial excitement now in
check, she quickly and sheepishly removed the cigarette from her lips. She
also stole a glance at the box, now clearly a hypnotic device that had almost
caused her to light the cigarette unconsciously. It or the Hive had wanted
her to ignite the cigarette, perhaps to puff on it. Did the smoke do more
than just activate the machinery? It must affect the thrall to some degree,
but how? Abbey wanted to know, needed to know. Her curiosity was almost as
powerful as the lights.

She realized that she had been staring at the box from a distance the whole
time she was thinking. The cigarette had found its way back between her lips.
Did she dare use the box to light the cigarette?

No, she shook her head. She rushed to get black cloth she had on hand to
obscure the box and its insidious lights. Again she removed the cigarette
from her lips, and moved to the matter converter and requested an ignition
device. She would perform her experiment, but on her own terms. Walking back
to the alcove, she perched on a chair-like surface in the center of it and,
holding the tube at arms length, as if she feared it might entrance her
without the lights, attempted to ignite it.

It took a few tries, but it started to smolder. She felt like there must be
an easier way, but immediately began to direct the smoke to the intake ports.
The cigarette would not fit inside, and none of the ports were oriented such
that the smoke would drift up off the cigarette into the ports. Abbey
grimaced, knowing what this meant. She would need to puff on the cigarette,
and direct the smoke into the port that way. She gingerly put the cylinder
between her lips, and drew gently on it. The taste was very strong, and she
blew it right out. She paused, taking account of her feelings - and breathed
a sigh of relief. Her fear that puffing on the cigarette would enthrall her
instantly was unfounded, and a bit silly in retrospect. Her first puff
wasted, she brought the cigarette to her lips and puffed again. More focused,
she blew the smoke back out of her mouth into a port.

The alcove came to life. The metal appendages moved quickly to hold her back
in the chair, and screens moved to fill her whole field of view. Swirling
lights firmly grasped her attention. But this trance was different. It was as
if she was watching herself, detatched from the action. Slightly terrified,
she watched her free hand bring the cigarette back to her waiting mouth. In
slow motion, she felt her lips seal around the orange end once more. This
time, as she removed the cigarette, she felt herself breathing in instead of
puffing out. She was inhaling the smoke into her lungs! It felt rough,
foreign, and she started to cough, but the commands of the screens
relentlessly pulled the smoke deeper. After an eternity, she watched the
smoke cascade out of her mouth. Helplessly, she repeated this activity six
more times, each puff completely overwhelming her, and she began to feel very
wobbly and lightheaded, almost nauseous. The cigarette nearly spent, the
screens slowly powered down, and the arms loosened their grip. None of her
puffs had been directed at a port, and the cargo bay was spacious enough that
the ambient smoke wasn't enough to keep the alcove active. When she was
finally free of the screen's commands, the cigarette was practically at her
lips for an eighth inhale. Still not completely herself, she almost puffed
again on her own before weakly dropping the cigarette to the ground. She
slumped in the chair, completely overcome by the experience. She fell asleep.


Abbey woke suddenly to the sound of the comm. Her strength somewhat
recovered, she stumbled over to the view screen. The captain's face appeared.

"I know that I am to keep our communications to a minimum, but it's time to
depart for the Gurandon Epsilon Starbase. Our sensor sweeps are complete now,
and have found nothing else for your... collection."

"Thanks for keeping me updated, I should have plenty for my research here." 

"Found anything interesting?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Couldn't hurt to ask." Captain Edgefield allowed a rare smirk. "Are you
alright? You seem shaken."

"I'm fine," Abbey replied curtly.

"Just let me know if you should require any assistance. Edgefield out."

The two week trip to the starbase would give her plenty of time alone with
her quarry. She shuddered slightly at the prospect.


Abbey eyed the inactive alcove suspiciously. It was more than a thrall
regeneration device. It could tell that she was foreign. It had completely
overpowered her. She would have to be much more careful.

She got to work with the matter converter. Thick black covers were made for
the screens on the alcove, along with a small protective cover for the box to
hide the lights but with a small hole in the middle for the indentation. She
also created a long tube which she affixed to a port on the alcove, running
the other end out to a computer terminal she had wired into the alcove.
Releasing a fresh cigarette from the box, she hesitated briefly before
placing it between her lips. The box had wanted her to light it while it was
in her mouth. Now that she was safe from the lights, she opted for this
technique, thinking it would perhaps work better than the
holding-at-arms-length technique.

Staring down the length of a cigarette, Abbey nervously brought the glowing
spot to the tip. As it made contact, the tip started to turn orange, as if
infected by the spot, wisps of smoke curling up. In what seemed as natural as
an instinct, Abbey applied suction to the cigarette, and it caught fully. The
wisps stopped, as she visualized the smoke being pulled through the length of
the cigarette, into her mouth. She pulled the box away from the tip with and
with her right hand plucked the cigarette from its resting place between her
index and middle fingers, just as she had done under the alcove's control.
While it had been a much more natural way to light and hold the cigarette,
Abbey was concerned by these new reflexes. Almost as concerned as she was
when she reflexively drew the smoke into her lungs again.

It was still rough, and she had a slight urge to cough, but didn't. So
concerned by this new development, she didn't have the presence of mind to
exhale into the tube, instead expelling a stream of smoke into the air around
her. There was little air movement in the cargo bay, and the smoke hung in
the air around her for a moment. It must have been residual conditioning from
the alcove that was doing this to her, Abbey thought. She began to experience
a toned-down version of the lightheadedness she had felt when inhaling
earlier. Perhaps more conditioning? Or maybe there was some chemical in the
smoke that was doing this.

More prepared, she readied one end of the tube in her left, and brought the
cigarette for another puff. Concentrating very had on her actions she managed
not to inhale, jettisoning a full stream into the tube. It didn't taste as
good that way, more bitter and unpleasant, but perhaps less dangerous. The
alcove quickly came to life, the covered screens all swiveling to face her,
threatening but impotent. The appendages whirred and reached towards her, but
she was at a safe distance. A small, insistent part of her wanted to slip
onto the seat and remove the covers,  to allow the machine to have its way
with her. To make her a thrall... again. Abbey was very aroused.

Her fascination with the Hive had always had a sexual component, which she
had denied herself and repressed furiously. She had considered her feelings
to be weird and unnatural. Now here she was face to face with a fantasy
object that could make her most frightening nightmares come true. Disgusted
with herself, she looked away, lightly shaking. She wanted to blame it all on
the conditioning, but knew that most of it was her own "defect". 

Turning to the console, she began to parse the data coming from the alcove.
It was a mess. The characters were familiar, but almost nothing else was. She
puffed again on the cigarette to keep the machine going, again forcing
herself not to inhale. She placed the cigarette in a small dish that she had
created to hold the cigarettes when she was not actively smoking them, and
for extinguishing them when they were down to the orange part. 


The software in the machine was very, very extensive and complicated, and in
the first hour Abbey had barely scratched the surface. While she worked, she
would pause for a puff every couple of minutes or so, since that was
necessary to keep the machine active. She found herself inhaling most of the
puffs, too focused on her work to fight it. Periodically, the wobbly
sensation would overwhelm her, and she would need to take a nap in the small
bed she had set up in the bay, never allowing herself more than an hour at a
time. She wished that she could just download the code into the console so
she wouldn't have to keep the machine active, but it was so dense that even
the Sunderland's entire computer core couldn't hold all of it. She had spent
many hours on the project already, made little progress and the frustration
and fatigue were beginning to take their toll. Working furiousl, as the first
day was almost through, she had only a weak grasp on how the data was even
organized.

Abbey grimaced as she noticed that the dish was filling up. Not that she
found the cigarettes unpleasant. On the contrary, at this point she was very
much enjoying the sensations that they provided - much to her dismay. At
times she caught herself fantasizing that this must be what a thrall feels.
At least she would have to stop when her ten cigarettes were finished, and
hopefully they won't have had too much of an effect on her by then. Startled,
Abbey realized there were far more than ten completely finished cigarettes in
the dish. She pulled out a sensorum, and aimed it at the box. It still had
ten in it. It must have a (very small) matter converter in there, constantly
producing more. 

Abbey's emotions were confused. Scared that she no longer had a limit to stop
at, that she may keep experiencing those unrepressable fantasies, but
relieved that she could continue her work until the ship's arrival at the
starbase.


Two more days passed, still with very little progress, and very little sleep.
Disappointingly, the most progress she had made had been with the cigarettes;
she now could tolerate the sensations better, needing to take fewer breaks.
Her movements with them were more fluid, more automatic. This was not the
progress she had been hoping to make.

She had finally figured out how the data was organized, but couldn't parse
anything else. She knew she had the skills, but not the time. It seemed like
a task that would take a month, but she had less than two weeks until the
starbase, and other "experts" that would want to get their hands on it. She
wanted to know enough that she would have decisive control over the project.
If only the thrall were awake, perhaps she could be convinced to help. Abbey
had an idea. She grabbed the box and made her way to the door.


The thrall was being kept in a private room in the med bay, under guard. The
chief physician, Dr. Laura Haines, had been given special permission to tend
to the thrall, since Abbey had no special medical knowledge. Dr. Haines
followed Abbey into the thrall's room. The Doctor was genial; many starship
medical crew members tended to have less of the military training other staff
had.

"I sure hope you have some ideas, because she has me completely stumped,"
Laura said "She seems to be in some sort of coma, almost a stasis-like state.
I know very little about the cybernetics, so I don't really know what to make
of them, but they may have something to do with her condition."

The thrall lay practically motionless on the bed. Most of her external
devices had been removed and were sitting in the cargo bay, except for a
thick, smooth, metallic collar sealed smoothly around her neck. It had
resisted early attempts to remove it, and Dr. Haines had opted to stop trying
as more forceful techniques might have harmed the invaluable captive.

Abbey had not responded to the doctor's chatter, instead carefully inspecting
the thrall. "Are you okay? You look exhausted. And there's a very strong
smell clinging to you, I can't quite place it."

Abbey looked over apologetically, "Sorry, I've been very focused on my
research, not a lot of human contact."

"It's ok, I'm just worried about you. You should get some sleep."

"I wish. Too much to do, though."

Turning back to the thrall, Abbey pulled out the box and released a
cigarette. Laura's eyes widened as Abbey expertly and quickly lit the
cigarette, expelling the first inhaled puff into air above the thrall.

"Are... are you sure you should be doing that?" the doctor stammered, "Wait,
the thrall's vital signs are stabilizing!"

Sure enough, the thrall's breathing slowly increased in depth and rate. Abbey
took another long pull and leaned in front of the thrall's face, exhaling
centimeters away, directly at her nose. The thrall took a long, deep breath
in, capturing most of the smoke. As she exhaled, her eyes shot open and she
shot bolt upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and startling
Abbey, plucking the cigarette from between her fingers. She took the deepest
puff into her lungs, larger than any Abbey had done, while moving to a
standing position. Abbey and Laura exchanged glances, stunned, while the
thrall's full attention was on the cigarette, inhaling it rapid fire, as if
she had been submerged for days and was finally coming up for air. She would
puff while the smoke from the previous inhale was still coming out of her
nose, another thing Abbey had never tried. When she finished, she dropped the
spent cigarette on the floor of the med bay and stepped on it to extinguish
it. Laura looked on with terror, in stark contrast to Abbey's fascination.

The thrall, no longer focused on the cigarette, looked around nervously,
taking in her surroundings for the first time. "This thrall is separate from
the Hive," she said, with a slight quaver of fear in her voice. This must be
the first time in her life without the voices of the Hive in her head.

"It's okay, you're safe here," Abbey said, hoping to reassure her.

"This thrall must return to the Hive."

"My name is Abbey, I'm the one who revived you. I was hoping you could help
me."

"This thrall must return to the Hive," she repeated, this time adding "This
thrall requires more smoke."

"I can't let you return just yet, but I would be able to get you more smoke.
But I need your help. If I give you more smoke, will you help me?"

The thrall paused, pondering. She must not have faced many individual choices
before, Abbey thought. Carefully choosing her words, the thrall said "This
thrall will help if Abbey gives it more smoke."

Abbey produced a new cigarette for the thrall and lit it for her. The thrall
already seemed desperate for more. "Follow me please." Then, to Laura, "Have
the crew clear the way to the cargo bay."

"I'll have the guards follow."

"No, I have this situation under control."

Abbey led the thrall into the corridors. A thick trail of smoke followed in
their wake as they made their way to the cargo bay. The thrall "required" a
new cigarette along the way.


Abbey showed the thrall to the console she had been working at. The thrall
seemed very concerned. "Abbey has altered the alcove."

"It was necessary."

The thrall frowned.

Abbey handed her the tube. "I need you to exhale your smoke into this tube to
keep the alcove active."

"This thrall will assist. This thrall enjoys smoking."

"I also need your help understanding the alcove's software."

"This thrall will not assist you in stealing the Hive's technology."

"Then 'this thrall' will not get any more cigarettes."

The thrall's eyes widened in panic. "This thrall will assist."

"Thanks," Abbey said sarcastically.


The thrall proved to be very helpful. Over the next couple hours, Abbey made
more progress than the last three days. There was still much more to do, but
Abbey was much more hopeful now. The thrall was also very helpful in keeping
the machine active. It hardly ever went more than thirty seconds between
infusions except when the thrall was out of reach of the tube.

The smell of smoke was becoming very thick in the bay. As the hours stretched
on, Abbey had relinquished to box to the thrall, becoming tired of pausing so
often to resupply and light her. The thrall was thrilled by the gift. It was
as though she was becoming attached to Abbey, even though she no longer
directly controlled her cigarette supply. 

Abbey was also becoming more and more distracted. The excitement of rapid
progress had faded somewhat, and she had caught herself staring at the thrall
as she puffed more and more often. Once, when the thrall was out of reach of
the tube while exhaling, Abbey found herself moving into the path of the
exhale, hoping to breathe some of it in. It was then that she realized what
was going on.

It had been half a day since Abbey took her last puff in the medbay. With a
start, she realized that she would like to have some smoke too. Maybe that
was also residual conditioning from the alcove, she thought. If so, it might
be easier not to fight it, just until the conditioning wore off. If it wore
off. Maybe there was a chemical in the smoke that she had developed a
dependency on. It could be dangerous for it all to leave her system at once.
Maybe just one wouldn't hurt, and she could concentrate again. Maybe the
smoke was deepening the conditioning of the alcove, slowly turning her into a
thrall. But if she just had one...

As these thoughts rushed through her head, another exhale caught her full in
the face. She couldn't resist any longer. She snatched up the box from the
spot on the console where the thrall had left it. The thrall, startled,
started to object, until she saw what Abbey was doing with it. In shock, she
watched as Abbey extracted a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply and
hungrily, much as the thrall herself had done earlier that day.

The relief was incredible.

"Abbey... wishes to become a thrall?" The thrall started, watching her
intently.

"No, no," Abbey objected through an exhale, "I... I just became used to it
when I didn't have you to activate the alcove."

"Perhaps Abbey would change her mind. Being a thrall is ecstasy."

"Abbey just wants to smoke." Abbey was frustrated, not only with the thrall's
line of questioning, but also with her own newfound habit. Not frustrated
enough to stop smoking, though.

The thrall was staring at her as she kept puffing, examining her actions
closely. After much thought, she spoke again. "This thrall requires
servicing."

Abbey gave her a questioning look. "Servicing? Do you need to regenerate at
the alcove or something?"

"The alcove could perform the required actions, but this thrall would rather
receive it from you."

Still not understanding, she just stared back at the thrall. "What... I don't
understand."

"This thrall is aroused."

Abbey had not been one for relationships. Most people thought she was a
little weird, and she had not done anything to dispel that notion. Added to
the fact that she found most of her sexual thoughts to be Hive related, and
therefore something to repress, she had not done anything sexual beyond rare
masturbation sessions.

And here was a (gorgeous, now that she thought about it) thrall, who wanted
her sexually. She was already uncomfortably turned on from her capitulation
to the cigarettes, and now she was paralyzed with fear of what she might do
next.

"Abbey is clearly aroused too. Abbey's pupils are dilated, her respiratory
rate has increased, and the thrall notices faint perspiration as well.
Perhaps if this thrall serviced Abbey first?"

She was frozen in place. Her psyche was at war with itself.

The thrall approached her slowly and cautiously. She reached out and caressed
her cheek.

"N-n-no, I shouldn't," Abbey stammered, but made no move to stop the thrall.

The thrall's hand moved towards Abbey's and began to lead her to the bed. At
least it wasn't the alcove. But as they arrived, she found some will to fight
it, despite losing ground to her growing arousal.

"Abbey's arousal is increasing. Abbey will be serviced." With that, the
thrall grabbed her with hidden strength and pinned her to the bed, and began
to work at removing her uniform. She struggled weakly, but the thrall was too
strong. Too dangerous. Too seductive. She began stroking her nipples softly,
sending lightning through Abbey's mind, but this task was frequently
interrupted by Abbey's protesting hands.

"Abbey's hands are becoming a nuisance." The thrall said with a coy smile.
While still pinning Abbey to the bed, she tore strips off the sheet. One by
one, Abbey's hands were bound above her head to the bed's metal frame. Her
arousal reached a fever pitch. "Abbey is aroused by her helpless state?"

Resistance was useless now. "Yes. Please, service me."

"Is Abbey sure?"

"Abbey requires it."

"Abbey would make an excellent thrall." With that, the thrall lowered her
face to Abbey's clitoris, positioning herself so that she could still stroke
her nipples. Abbey lasted less than thirty seconds before climaxing to the
single greatest orgasm of her life. The thrall carefully undid Abbey's bonds,
and her arms slumped down beside her. She was exhausted.

"Abbey needs to sleep. This thrall will use the alcove. For now." Abbey's
vision faded out as she collapsed into unconsciousness.


Abbey woke six hours later, fully rested. She had not gotten that much
continuous sleep since she had first found out about the wreck.

"This thrall has been hard at work during Abbey's rest. Abbey will be
pleased." The thrall approached her with the box, giving Abbey her first
morning cigarette.

"You need a name," Abbey said, after exhaling "Continuing to call yourself
'this thrall' simply won't do."

"What does Abbey suggest?"

She pondered the question, "I've always thought Anya was a good, strong name.
And you certainly are strong."

"Anya accepts Abbey's suggestion."

Trailing smoke, Abbey approached the console to continue her work. She
stopped fighting her desire for cigarettes, and was often lighting one up
over the next several hours. Anya started to get the same look in her eyes
that she had when she first saw Abbey smoke. Abbey coyly ignored it at first,
but she could scarcely take her mind off their encounter last night either.
Eventually, she relented, wordlessly turning to Anya, pulling her towards
her, and engaging in a long, passionate kiss. The pair found themselves on
the bed again, Abbey enjoying pleasuring Anya this time.

Afterwards, Anya turned to Abbey while both were sitting on the bed, smoking.
"Abbey would enjoy the alcove. Abbey would be very helpless while it serviced
her. Anya would enjoy watching."

"No, I'd rather you did it."

"Anya could assist the alcove."

Abbey was aroused at the idea, but still feared the alcove. "I've already
been in the alcove once, before I activated you. It didn't service me, but it
did start me inhaling these." Abbey gestured with the cigarette, then took a
puff as if to drive the point home.

"Abbey certainly enjoys cigarettes now. Perhaps the alcove did Abbey a
favor."

"I'm afraid it will turn me into a thrall. I don't want to be a thrall."

"The alcove won't make you a thrall if it can't put a collar on you. Anya
will operate it, and keep Abbey safe."

"Really? How do I know you won't take that opportunity to enthrall me?"

Anya looked genuinely hurt. "Anya could have made Abbey a thrall last night,
easily, when Anya found out how much stronger she is. How easy it is to
overpower Abbey."

"Why didn't you?"

"Anya likes Abbey. Anya would love to incorporate Abbey into thrallship, to
share how it feels to Anya, but only if Abbey wishes it. If Abbey were forced
into it, Anya would lose Abbey, as the implants would need to suppress her
will completely to keep her enthralled."

Abbey was touched, but also very aroused by this description of what Anya
called incorportation. "Take me to the alcove."

Instead of leading her there, Anya swept her up in her arms, and carried her
there, depositing it in the seat in the middle. She lit a fresh cigarette,
and removed the covers from the screen. Abbey could barely believe that she
was willingly subjecting herself to the alcove again. As Anya exhaled into
the tube, the screens blinked to life and instantly put her in the trance
from before. While the arms grabbed her again, Anya handed a freshly lit
cigarette over to one appendage, which deposited it in Abbey's lips. She
obediently began inhaling. Anya went back over to the console and began
typing commands. The appendages began stripping Abbey's uniform off, with
Abbey helpless to resist. An arm emerged from a panel below Abbey's seat;
instead of the grasping fingers of the other arms, this one was equipped,
with one long, slick, black, rubbery finger. Abbey watched as it effortlessly
entered her, gasping through the hypnosis. "Anya, touch me."

Anya approached her, done for now with her console use, and, facing her,
began stroking her nipples again. Abbey could barely contain herself. Anya
reached behind Abbey with one hand, and produced what Abbey immediately
recognized as a collar. "When I slip this around your neck, you will forever
be a thrall. A collar that fully seals around it's victim's neck can never be
removed." Anya inched it closer to Abbey. She imagined it closing around her,
and exploded with an orgasm that dwarfed her previous one.

Anya placed the unused collar back down on the console, and set about
releasing Abbey. She scooped her up again, and returned her to the bed. Anya
handed her a cigarette. "Anya enjoys smoking after orgasms," she said by way
of explanation.

"The- the collar..."

"Will never touch Abbey's neck unless Abbey wishes it to." Anya reassured
her. "But Anya could tell that the threat of it would greatly improve Abbey's
orgasm." She smiled.

"Thank you."


Over the next seven days, the pair made incredible progress. The alcove's
code was completely accessible to Abbey, who could now even write commands
for it with Anya's help. They had moved on to other relics of the wreck,
including a matter transport device. Practically magical by Confederation, it
could convert items and people into energy, and transfer them to a different
location.

Abbey had completely succumbed to the cigarettes at this point. She wasn't
matching Anya's rapid pace, but she certainly didn't think twice about
lighting one. She also didn't think twice about taking Anya to bed. The two's
sexual escapades increased in frequency, and in potency. No longer ashamed of
her kinks, Abbey allowed Anya to manipulate them to great effect.

The starbase just three days away, Abbey had started to become very concerned
about what would happen. "Anya, there's something I need to tell you. In
three days, we will reach a starbase. When they find out what's been going on
here, they'll separate us. I won't be able to smoke anymore. They'll run
tests on you. They might even hurt you. I can't stand for that to happen."

"Abbey and Anya could... return to the Hive. But Anya could not protect Abbey
from incorporation any longer then.  Abbey and Anya could become separated
that way too."

"Given enough time with your technology, I might be able to do something
about that. But first we need to get off this ship. We could fit the alcove
and some other key pieces into a shuttle. But it's too much to use the matter
transporter for, and we can't just walk it down there."

"Anya could... incorporate enough crew to assist."

"I... I don't want to enslave them just for our purposes. Maybe something
more temporary?"

"Anya and Abbey could condition them with packs. The brainwashing would last
long enough to escape and prevent pursuit from the ship, but is theoretically
reversible."

"Perfect, we can transport packs into the quarters of the female crew. We
could direct a few key crew to this cargo bay and use the alcove to condition
more specific commands!"


Dr. Laura Haines was headed to bed. She bent over to set her alarm when she
noticed a small box with glowing lights that hadn't been there before. It
looked just like the box that she had seen Commander Bridgestone use in the
med bay. The pattern of lights was mesmerizing as she picked it up carefully,
turning it over in her hands. Slowly, her fingers were drawn to the
indentation in the center, pressing it gingerly and releasing a cigarette.
She told herself it was her natural curiosity that brought the cigarette to
her lips. Entranced, she leaned in towards the box and ignited the cigarette.
Continuing to stare at it, she removed the cigarette from her lips and drew
the smoke into her lungs.

Events like this were transpiring in crew quarters all over the ship. One by
one, the female crew became enthralled by the packs, lighting up and becoming
more deeply hypnotized.


"Dr. Haines, respond please."

For the first time in hours, Laura looked up from the box. She had a
cigarette in her right hand as she moved to the comm screen. "Laura here."
She replied vacantly to the image of Abbey Bridgestone.

"Please join me in the cargo bay. I require your assistance."

Laura shut off the comm, extinguished her cigarette, and headed for the cargo
bay.


Upon her arrival, she recognized two other crew - the navigator and the
security chief. Both were staring at their packs and smoking. Abbey
approached her. "Welcome Dr. Haines. Please, come take a seat over here."

Laura approached the alcove, and obeyed. It was easy to obey. Screens on
every side blinked on, and she was entranced deeper than before. A fresh
cigarette was placed between her lips, and she sunk even deeper.


"Sir, we have an unscheduled shuttle launching from bay one," Operations
manager Koval Benitez informed the captain.

"On whose authority?"

"Dr. Haines'."

"Edgefield to Haines. What's going on?" He got no response.

"Benitez, stop that shuttle."

"I can't, the bay door controls appear to be encrypted! It is leaving the
ship now."

"Kilev, bring the ship about, let's follow that shuttle."

Navigator Emily Kilev did not respond.

"Kilev!?"

Emily turned around slowly, and lit a cigarette.

"Sir, the shuttle is moving out of range of our scans! If we don't move soon,
we'll lose it!"

"Damarcus, arrest Lieutenant Kilev and bring her to the brig."

The security chief simply lit a cigarette of her own.

"We've lost it!"


(End transmission)


Acknowledgments: Of course, a certain televised sci-fi series lent a great
deal of inspiration to this story. Additionally, the stories of the many
gifted authors found on this site inspired have inspired me over the years,
eventually leading me to want to contribute myself. If you enjoyed the
non-smoking elements (hypnosis/trances, etc) I highly recommend checking out
mcstories.com, in particular the works of Tabico, to whom I also owe a lot.


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