Laminate Calling

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@@.center; //Welcome to *Laminate Calling*, an interactive fiction story by GlossandGlamour.// @@ This narrative is set (mostly) on the planet Torei-- a world long isolated from travel, where slavery is the norm, and where what we would recognize as latex is so very common. This story assumes zero prior experience with Torei, but it is a shared setting, featuring dozens of different stories and artwork already set within it. Hungry for more? Come join us on the dedicated Discord server for more information, by [[clicking here.|https://discord.gg/Y9TPgZg]] This is an interactive story, allowing //you// the opportunity to make important decisions along the way. If you have never played a game like this before, [[click here to check out the controls.->ControlNote]] And if you enjoy, I //love// hearing feedback. What did you like? Do you have ideas for further scenes? Hit me with a comment, or find me on Discord-- several of the included situations were derived purely from reader suggestions! If you would like to toss a few credits towards the author, @@color:orange;my tip-jar is available on Patreon [[by clicking here.->PatPage]]@@ [[Let's get to it!->Startup]]

To navigate the story, click the brightly colored highlighted links. You can click the 'back' and 'forward' arrows up top if you want to change your decisions, but don't use the refresh, back, or forward buttons on your browser. Additional permanent trackers and an inventory will be become available via the top bar as you play, and update automatically. [[Go back.->Landing Page]]

My games are, and always will be, free in their entirety. But I have had quite a few requests from players to establish some way for folks to show their support for this writing project. As such, if you would like to contribute to my personal tip jar via Patreon you can find it at the following link: [[click here|https://www.patreon.com/GlossandGlamour]] If you do go that extra mile, thank you! -- Glossandglamour, the Author [[Go Back.->Landing Page]]

@@.center; //Somewhere distant, a shutter flicks open. One click, two. The lens focuses, and// ''you'' //come into view.// -- [[//START NEW GAME\\->Settings]] -- [[//ESTABLISH LINK\\->Cheat]] @@

''CHOOSE YOUR GAME SETTINGS'' <label><<checkbox "$Tutorial" false true autocheck>> ''Tutorials:'' //Enables several pop-up tutorials through the early game, to explain certain concepts and mechanisms. Recommended for first time players.// </label> [[Confirm Settings.->Intro/Init]]

''TERMINAL NONRESPONSIVE NO CONNECTION ABORT ABORT ABORT'' [[Abort->Startup]]

<<newmeter '$aroumeter'>> <<animation 300ms>> <<colors 'yellow' 'purple' 'black'>> <<label '$Arou' 'white' center>> <</newmeter>> <<set $Inv to []>> <<set $Pock to []>>

Version: 1.0 <<if $ShowCredits is true>>Credits: $Debt [[Your Gear->Gear]]<</if>> <<if $ShowArousal is true>> Arousal: <<showmeter '$aroumeter' `$Arou / 100`>><</if>> <img @src="setup.ImagePath+'GrowF.png'" alt="Larger font" title="Larger font" class="fullscreenImg" style="top: 70px;" onclick="fontSize(1)"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'ShrinkF.png'" alt="Smaller font" title="Smaller font" class="fullscreenImg" style="top: 100px;" onclick="fontSize(-1)"> <<if $Arou gt 100>><<set $Arou to 100>><</if>>

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'intro.gif']] @@ @@.delayed;Establishing Connection...@@ @@.delayed;Loading Variables...@@ @@.delayed;Identifying Candidate...@@ @@.delayed;Locating Emissaries...@@ @@.delayed;Overriding Current Directives...@@ @@.delayed;Providing Incentive...@@ @@.delayed;Observing...@@ <<nobr>><<set $ShowArousal to false>> <<set $Arou to 0>> <<set $ShowCredits to false>> <<set $HeadC to 0>> <<set $HeadG to 0>> <<set $Arms to 0>> <<set $Waist to 0>> <<set $Hips to 0>> <<set $Legs to 0>> <<set $Feet to 0>> <<set $Enhanced to 0>> <<set $Drive to 0>> <<set $Pierced to 0>> <<set $HairLength to 2>> <<set $Hair to "not">> <<set $Name to "Jane">> <<set $LName to "Lacoure">> <<set $Gear to 0>> <<set $Strike to 0>> <<set $MetBartender to 0>> <<set $Strike2 to 0>> <<set $Strike3 to 0>> <<set $MeetJacq to false>> <<set $ExplainLam to false>> <<set $TurnedKey to false>> <<set $Inv to []>> <<set $Pock to []>> <<set $FoundRepro to false>> <<set $RevealStats to false>><</nobr>> @@.delayed;[[The door opens...->Start1]]@@

''CURRENT BASE OUTFIT:'' <<if $Gear is 0>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'nude.jpg']] //You are nude, without clothing or decency.//<</if>> <<if $Gear is 1>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'malejump.png']] ''Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit:'' //A common sight across both universes, this jumpsuit is intended to be used either by itself during travel aboard starships, or as a base layer underneath vacuum-rated hardsuits. Available in a broad variety of colors, with all manner of accessories, the one thing in common on most are a plethora of pockets.//<</if>> <<if $Gear is 2>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'femalejump.png']] ''Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit:'' //A common sight across both universes, this jumpsuit is intended to be used either by itself during travel aboard starships, or as a base layer underneath vacuum-rated hardsuits. Available in a broad variety of colors, with all manner of accessories, the one thing in common on most are a plethora of pockets.//<</if>> <<if $Gear is 3>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'recepout.png']] ''Receptionist Uniform:'' //Consisting of blouse and skirt, the latter is rendered in an obsidian sheen, while the former is a lush shade of red. A bit loose at the sleeves, it is otherwise quite tight across your chest, framing your modest bust, while the skirt hugs your hips, restricting just how far you can spread your legs, or even take a step. Considered the standard uniform for receptionist duties at the Embassy.//<</if>> <<if $Gear is 4>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'recepout.png']] ''Receptionist Uniform, Modified:'' //Intended for wearing by a more feminine figure, the Wardrobe has nevertheless adjusted to your masculine measurements as best it could. Consisting of blouse and skirt, the latter is rendered in an obsidian sheen, while the former is a lush shade of red. A bit loose at the sleeves, it is otherwise quite tight across your chest, while the skirt hugs your hips, restricting just how far you can spread your legs, or even take a step. Considered the standard uniform for receptionist duties at the Embassy, it is undoubtedly feminine in design and intent.//<</if>> <<if $Gear is 5>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repro.jpg']] ''Reprogramming Suit, #15:'' //A fully encapsulating suit of stark black laminate, it covers from head to toe, tight and glossy. Everything is covered, yet nothing is left to the imagination with the way it hugs your every curve. The only break in the black is upon your back, where the number 15 is printed in bold white between your shoulderblades.//<</if>> <<if $Gear is 6>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromale.png']] ''Reprogramming Suit, #15:'' //A fully encapsulating suit of stark black laminate, it covers from head to toe, tight and glossy. Everything is covered, yet nothing is left to the imagination with the way it hugs your every curve. The only break in the black is upon your back, where the number 15 is printed in bold white between your shoulderblades.//<</if>> <<if $Gear is 7>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'strait.png']] ''Institute High Restraint Patient Uniform:'' //while some Institute patients are allowed relatively regular clothing, you have been deemed necessary of high restraint, and are required to wear this laminate leotard, with integrated straitjacket. Buckles built into the sides allow your arms to be crossed and then secured, preventing you from harming anyone or yourself during treatment. Connectors built into the portion of the suit that covers your nipples allow for electrostim treatments as well.//<</if>> <<if $RevealStats is false>>You do not have Torean-standard stat tracking available.<<else>><div class="comp">Slave #34982761-36A Name: $Name Status: $LName Owner: (Stakeholder Contract) Role: Variable Hair Color: $Hair Hair Length: <<if $HairLength is 1>>Shaved<<elseif $HairLength is 2>>Short<<elseif $HairLength is 3>>Shoulder-Length<<elseif $HairLength is 4>>Long<</if>> Body Classification: <<if $Enhanced is 0>>Offworlder Standard<<elseif $Enhanced is 1>>Improved to Torean Standard<<elseif $Enhanced is 2>>Improved to Doll Proportions<</if>> Drive Classification: <<if $Drive is 0>>Offworlder Standard<<elseif $Drive is 1>>Improved to Torean Standard<<elseif $Drive is 2>>Hypersexuality<</if>> Height: 5'8" Bust: 34" (32B) Waist: 23" Waist, Laced: 20" Hips: 34" Notes: </div><</if>> You are currently wearing: <<nobr>> <<if $Inv.length is 0>> nothing. <<else>> <ul> <<for _name range $Inv>> <li><<link _name _name>><</link>></li> <</for>> </ul> <</if>> <</nobr>> You are currently carrying: <<nobr>> <<if $Pock.length is 0>> nothing. <<else>> <ul> <<for _name range $Pock>> <li><<link _name _name>><</link>></li> <</for>> </ul> <</if>> <</nobr>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'station.png']] As the elevator door slides open with an electric purr, Calliope VIII beckons. By the standard of space stations it wasn't a particularly large one, but it //was// popular. The system was on the edge of the Milky Way, one of several "last stop" stations utilized by the long-haul transports making the jump to Andromeda. That meant traffic of all sorts, humanity in its multitudes, and that sort of trade inevitably attracted the enterprising. Shops line the central promenade, shouting their offered wares via neon signs and sometimes even a particularly loud salesperson. You could find just about anything in these outer rim stations, if you looked hard enough. But you're not here for that. Why are you here? <<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Choices Matter!")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' Your choices matter in Laminate Calling, and while the upcoming ones have rather obvious results, this will not always be case. Be wary-- you never know when your decisions may come back to reward... or bite you!")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[You're a starship pilot, transporting a peculiar cargo.->PilotPick]] [[You're a reporter, seeking out an infamous story.->ReporterPick]] [[You're a scholar, interested in artificial intelligence.->ScholarPick]]

''Background: the Pilot'' ''Specialty:'' Mechanical Devices and Repair //Since a young age you looked to the stars, and dreamed of wandering them. Now you do.// Nimble Blue, //your ship, may not be the largest of vessels, but she pairs a sizeable hold with a speed few can match. Working the Milky Way's trade lanes is usually profitable, and only rarely dangerous if you picked your cargo carefully. Which you always do. So why did you agree to take the Box? Your entire ship had been contracted out for an object you carry now in your hands, less than a foot tall. The Box is completely black, heavier than you would have imagined, without seams or opening. You have absolutely no idea what it is, or does, but the bonus offered for this contract had been massive indeed. That had been necessary, you rarely traveled to the Outer Rim, but even just the half you had required at pickup could have paid your fees twice over. You would get the other half upon delivery, to the Torean Embassy established her on Calliope VIII.// [[The Embassy should be just ahead, and would be expecting you.->Start Pilot]] [[Actually, you're a reporter, seeking out an infamous story.->ReporterPick]] [[Actually you're a scholar, interested in artificial intelligence.->ScholarPick]]

''Background: the Reporter'' ''Specialty:'' Negotiation //You're an independent reporter, the hardscrabble sort who scoured the galaxies for leads the big networks overlooked. Living on contracted work afforded you little in stability, but it had always allowed you to roam the stars, to go and do as you pleased. That's a freedom few others could manage. Freedom to starve, if you weren't careful. A dry run of leads recently had led you take a risk, gambling on a topic few other independent reporters had shown much interest in: the Torean Embassies. Several could be found along the edges of the Milky Way, and one was located here on Calliope VIII. Usually they were reclusive, though, and a reporter without access could hardly file a report. But you've caught a break-- an offer from the Ambassador herself for an interview.// [[The Embassy should be just ahead, and would be expecting you.->Start Reporter]] [[Actually, you're a starship pilot, transporting a peculiar cargo.->PilotPick]] [[Actually, you're a scholar, interested in artificial intelligence.->ScholarPick]]

''Background: the Scholar'' ''Specialty:'' Knowledge and AI //The galaxies may be hold, but there are always new things to learn. You're a scholar, usually teaching at a small university in the Milky Way's traverse. On most every topic that would make you rather unremarkable, such institutions are frequently found in both galaxies, and rarely worthy of note. Your particular field however, Artificial Intelligence, does stand out. You study an endangered species. A variety of reasons exist for the lack of such constructs, be it their difficulty to create and sustain, or their limited usefulness compared to fully constrained computing systems-- but often the simplest answer is fear. Most planets had long ago made them illegal. But not Torei. You've never been to the planet, but you have heard of it. How could you not? A planet once ruled by, and still populated by, three ancient AIs? That would be noteworthy enough, were the humans who lived on Torei not infamous for their very peculiar culture. But outside of traveling to the planet itself firsthand experience was few and far between, and you had always had other concerns-- until a few days ago, when a Torean Embassy contacted you directly. It seems the Ambassador to the one here, on Calliope VIII, wanted your expertise. You could only imagine why. But you had, of course, jumped at the opportunity.// [[The Embassy should be just ahead, and would be expecting you.->Start Scholar]] [[Actually, you're a starship pilot, transporting a peculiar cargo.->PilotPick]] [[Actually, you're a reporter, seeking out an infamous story.->ReporterPick]]

It should be a simple enough thing: deliver the Box to the Embassy, get paid. By the time you returned to your ship for the long drag back into more civilized space, you would be rich enough to retire-- or at the very least take it easy for a few years. Looking down at the Box in your hands, its glossy exterior reflects your own image back at you. Staring into it, you find... <<set $Back to 1>> [[A young man staring back.->PilotMale]] [[A young woman staring back.->PilotFemale]]

Getting the interview *had* taken a bit of work. Or perhaps more accurately: pestering. You had called the Embassy's line daily, and that had certainly gotten your name logged somewhere, but the real breakthrough had come when you started tracking the Embassy's movements. It was not a fixed institution, Torei did not have enough of an offworld presence for that. But it wasn't following simple economic principles. There was a *pattern* in there, but just what that was had never been clear. Nevertheless, an offhand mention during your daily request for an interview had earned you a callback the very next day. Coincidence? Your instincts scoff at the idea. Reaching into your pocket, you check your recorder device, its sleek design reflecting your own image back at you. In it you find... <<set $Back to 2>> [[A young man staring back.->ReportMale]] [[A young woman staring back.->ReportFemale]]

A few days travel to Calliope VIII was far better than the much longer drag required to reach Torei proper. You recall it resided in a rogue system, a star and planet flung from some distant galaxy, only to be caught in the gravitational pull between the Milky Way and Andromeda. A remote position indeed. Unless one was looking to travel to Torei directly there was little reason to visit the system, although you had read about some smaller ships beginning to use it as a halfway point during the drag across dark space. For bigger transports it would be quite uneconomical of course, the bulk of a drag's cost being in spinning up the FTL engine itself... Ah, but you've gotten distracted. Reaching up, you adjust your glasses, and use the ocular library's own camera to reflect your image back at you. Best to make a good first impression. Gazing at yourself, you see... <<set $Back to 3>> [[A young man staring back.->ScholarMale]] [[A young woman staring back.->ScholarFemale]]

@@.addbox;Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Space Boots Added.@@ @@.addbox;ID Chit Added.@@ @@.addbox;The Box Added.@@ <<run $Inv.push('Spacer Boots')>> <<run $Pock.push('ID Chit')>> <<run $Pock.push('The Box')>> The reflection that looks back at you is in his early twenties, male and lean. You've never put a particular emphasis on your physique, but modern nutrition and your active lifestyle have certainly helped to keep you in reasonably good shape. There is little there to dissuade anyone in an Embassy from turning you away. Your clothing, however, does leave a bit to be desired-- you're wearing your usual flight gear, a simple jumpsuit and boots. Utilitarian, given you docked only a little while ago, but you've never been in an Embassy before. Hopefully they don't have a dress code? Although given the peculiar things you've heard about Torean dress, perhaps *anything* you wore would be strange to them... Either way, you at least run your hands through your hair. Its short and a bit unkempt, a shade of... <<set $Gear to 1>><<set $ShowCredits to true>><<set $Debt to 125>><<set $Gender to 1>><<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Inventory and Credit Tracking Unlocked!")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' Inventory and Credit tracking are now unlocked, and can be found in the sidebar. Your Inventory can be clicked on to explore additional information, and both will be indicated in the game whenever they are updated.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Dark Auburn.->HairBrown]] [[Raven Black.->HairBlack]] [[Sunny Blonde.->HairBlonde]] [[Bright Red.->HairRed]]

@@.addbox;Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Space Boots Added.@@ @@.addbox;ID Chit Added.@@ @@.addbox;The Box Added.@@ <<run $Inv.push('Spacer Boots')>> <<run $Pock.push('ID Chit')>> <<run $Pock.push('The Box')>> The reflection that looks back at you is in her early twenties, female and lean. You've never put a particular emphasis on your physique, but modern nutrition and your active lifestyle have certainly helped to keep you in reasonably good shape. There is little there to dissuade anyone in an Embassy from turning you away. Your clothing, however, does leave a bit to be desired-- you're wearing your usual flight gear, a simple jumpsuit and boots. Utilitarian, given you docked only a little while ago, but you've never been in an Embassy before. Hopefully they don't have a dress code? Although given the peculiar things you've heard about Torean dress, perhaps *anything* you wore would be strange to them... Either way, you at least run your hands through your hair. Its short and a bit unkempt, a shade of... <<set $Gear to 2>><<set $ShowCredits to true>><<set $Debt to 125>><<set $Gender to 2>><<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Inventory and Credit Tracking Unlocked!")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' Inventory and Credit tracking are now unlocked, and can be found in the sidebar. Your Inventory can be clicked on to explore additional information, and both will be indicated in the game whenever they are updated.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Dark Auburn.->HairBrown]] [[Raven Black.->HairBlack]] [[Sunny Blonde.->HairBlonde]] [[Bright Red.->HairRed]]

@@.addbox;Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Space Boots Added.@@ @@.addbox;ID Chit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Interview Recorder Added.@@ <<run $Inv.push('Spacer Boots')>> <<run $Pock.push('ID Chit')>> <<run $Pock.push('Interview Recorder')>> The reflection that looks back at you is in his early twenties, male and lean. You've never put a particular emphasis on your physique, but modern nutrition and your active lifestyle have certainly helped to keep you in reasonably good shape. There is little there to dissuade anyone in an Embassy from turning you away. Your clothing, however, does leave a bit to be desired-- you're wearing the jumpsuit issued to all drag transport passengers, a simple jumpsuit and boots. Utilitarian, given you docked only a little while ago, but you've never been in an Embassy before. Hopefully they don't have a dress code? Although given the peculiar things you've heard about Torean dress, perhaps *anything* you wore would be strange to them... Either way, you at least run your hands through your hair. Its short and a bit unkempt, a shade of... <<set $Gear to 1>><<set $ShowCredits to true>><<set $Debt to 110>><<set $Gender to 1>><<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Inventory and Credit Tracking Unlocked!")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' Inventory and Credit tracking are now unlocked, and can be found in the sidebar. Your Inventory can be clicked on to explore additional information, and both will be indicated in the game whenever they are updated.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Dark Auburn.->HairBrown]] [[Raven Black.->HairBlack]] [[Sunny Blonde.->HairBlonde]] [[Bright Red.->HairRed]]

@@.addbox;Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Space Boots Added.@@ @@.addbox;ID Chit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Interview Recorder Added.@@ <<run $Inv.push('Spacer Boots')>> <<run $Pock.push('ID Chit')>> <<run $Pock.push('Interview Recorder')>> The reflection that looks back at you is in her early twenties, female and lean. You've never put a particular emphasis on your physique, but modern nutrition and your active lifestyle have certainly helped to keep you in reasonably good shape. There is little there to dissuade anyone in an Embassy from turning you away. Your clothing, however, does leave a bit to be desired-- you're wearing the jumpsuit issued to all drag transport passengers, a simple jumpsuit and boots. Utilitarian, given you docked only a little while ago, but you've never been in an Embassy before. Hopefully they don't have a dress code? Although given the peculiar things you've heard about Torean dress, perhaps *anything* you wore would be strange to them... Either way, you at least run your hands through your hair. Its short and a bit unkempt, a shade of... <<set $Gear to 2>><<set $ShowCredits to true>><<set $Debt to 110>><<set $Gender to 2>><<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Inventory and Credit Tracking Unlocked!")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' Inventory and Credit tracking are now unlocked, and can be found in the sidebar. Your Inventory can be clicked on to explore additional information, and both will be indicated in the game whenever they are updated.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Dark Auburn.->HairBrown]] [[Raven Black.->HairBlack]] [[Sunny Blonde.->HairBlonde]] [[Bright Red.->HairRed]]

@@.addbox;Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Space Boots Added.@@ @@.addbox;ID Chit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Ocular Library.@@ <<run $Inv.push('Spacer Boots')>> <<run $Pock.push('ID Chit')>> <<run $Inv.push('Ocular Library')>> The reflection that looks back at you is in his early twenties, male and lean. You've never put a particular emphasis on your physique, but modern nutrition and your active lifestyle have certainly helped to keep you in reasonably good shape. There is little there to dissuade anyone in an Embassy from turning you away. Your clothing, however, does leave a bit to be desired-- you're wearing the jumpsuit issued to all drag transport passengers, a simple jumpsuit and boots. Utilitarian, given you docked only a little while ago, but you've never been in an Embassy before. Hopefully they don't have a dress code? Although given the peculiar things you've heard about Torean dress, perhaps *anything* you wore would be strange to them... Either way, you at least run your hands through your hair. Its short and a bit unkempt, a shade of... <<set $Gear to 1>><<set $ShowCredits to true>><<set $Debt to 90>><<set $Gender to 1>><<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Inventory and Credit Tracking Unlocked!")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' Inventory and Credit tracking are now unlocked, and can be found in the sidebar. Your Inventory can be clicked on to explore additional information, and both will be indicated in the game whenever they are updated.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Dark Auburn.->HairBrown]] [[Raven Black.->HairBlack]] [[Sunny Blonde.->HairBlonde]] [[Bright Red.->HairRed]]

@@.addbox;Space-Rated Standard Jumpsuit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Space Boots Added.@@ @@.addbox;ID Chit Added.@@ @@.addbox;Ocular Library.@@ <<run $Inv.push('Spacer Boots')>> <<run $Pock.push('ID Chit')>> <<run $Inv.push('Ocular Library')>> The reflection that looks back at you is in her early twenties, female and lean. You've never put a particular emphasis on your physique, but modern nutrition and your active lifestyle have certainly helped to keep you in reasonably good shape. There is little there to dissuade anyone in an Embassy from turning you away. Your clothing, however, does leave a bit to be desired-- you're wearing the jumpsuit issued to all drag transport passengers, a simple jumpsuit and boots. Utilitarian, given you docked only a little while ago, but you've never been in an Embassy before. Hopefully they don't have a dress code? Although given the peculiar things you've heard about Torean dress, perhaps *anything* you wore would be strange to them... Either way, you at least run your hands through your hair. Its short and a bit unkempt, a shade of... <<set $Gear to 2>><<set $ShowCredits to true>><<set $Debt to 90>><<set $Gender to 2>><<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Inventory and Credit Tracking Unlocked!")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' Inventory and Credit tracking are now unlocked, and can be found in the sidebar. Your Inventory can be clicked on to explore additional information, and both will be indicated in the game whenever they are updated.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Dark Auburn.->HairBrown]] [[Raven Black.->HairBlack]] [[Sunny Blonde.->HairBlonde]] [[Bright Red.->HairRed]]

Your hair is a smooth auburn, and could definitely use a combing. But that would have to wait. You see little reason to risk your appointment at the Embassy with any further delay. Looking away from the reflection, you take a final deep breath, and turn your attention to the station concourse ahead of you. <<set $Hair to "brown">> [[A dozen different things stand out to you.->StationIntro]]

Your hair is a dark black, and could definitely use a combing. But that would have to wait. You see little reason to risk your appointment at the Embassy with any further delay. Looking away from the reflection, you take a final deep breath, and turn your attention to the station concourse ahead of you. <<set $Hair to "black">> [[A dozen different things stand out to you.->StationIntro]]

Your hair is a bright blonde, and could definitely use a combing. But that would have to wait. You see little reason to risk your appointment at the Embassy with any further delay. Looking away from the reflection, you take a final deep breath, and turn your attention to the station concourse ahead of you. <<set $Hair to "blonde">> [[A dozen different things stand out to you.->StationIntro]]

Your hair is a bright shock of red, and could definitely use a combing. But that would have to wait. You see little reason to risk your appointment at the Embassy with any further delay. Looking away from the reflection, you take a final deep breath, and turn your attention to the station concourse ahead of you. <<set $Hair to "red">> [[A dozen different things stand out to you.->StationIntro]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'station.png']] Even small stations had the tendency to overwhelm. When space became a treasured commodity everything seemed to get *louder* as storefronts crowded together, as neon sign stacked atop neon sign, as people and sights pushed up against each other. Getting lost in the market bazaars of a rimward station was not uncommon, but you had prepared: the elevator you had taken up is already close to your destination. You can see it, in fact: a double set of doors at the end of this particular promenade. A guard each flank the sides, but you're too far away to see anything but dark uniforms from this distance. A bit closer you see a small standing bar built into what appears to have once been a shipping container. The garish light of a vid-screen above flashes with a series of news reports, it seems. Next door is a store, although you struggle to determine just what exactly it was selling. Your best guess would be "everything", given what you can see from your current vantage. Nearer the Embassy itself there appear to be a few groups of people gathered, a pair in particular talking loudly. [[Approach the Bar.->StationBar]] [[Approach the store.->StationStore]] [[Approach the gossiping pair.->StationGossips]] [[Ignore all the distractions, go straight for the embassy.->ApproachEmbassy]]

<<if $MetBartender lt 1>>Stepping up to the small marketside bar, you're greeted by a scratched and beaten lump of metal that one could perhaps call a bar, and the bartender, a short man wearing suspenders. His hair is slicked back, but his voice is gruff. "Hey <<if $Gender is 1>>kid<<else>>lass<</if>>. What'ill it be? Space is limited, so if ya want to linger, you gotta be drinking, aye?" The bar is long enough for only three people to stand at, but its currently empty besides yourself. <<if $Back is 1 and $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Special Dialogue")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' sometimes your decisions will allow you to make special choices, such as the (Pilot) option showcased here. Keep an eye out for them, you never know what new opportunities they could open up.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> "[[You don't need the space, buddy.->AngryBar]]" "[[Uh... something light. (3 Credits)->LightDrink]]" "[[Uh... something with a kick. (5 Credits)->HeavyDrink]]" <<if $Back is 1>>"[[(Pilot) Nova Burst, over rocks. (6 Credits)->PilotDrink]]"<</if>><<else>>The bartender grins as you approach again, allowing you notice he is missing a tooth. "<<if $Gender is 1>>Back again, Kid?<<else>>Back again, lass?<</if>> You paid before, so I suppose you can just stand about... while I got the space, you understand." [[Watch the TV some more.->WatchBarTV]] [["So, you know anything else about that Embassy?"->AskBarEmb]]<</if>>

The store you approach is another example of available space being utilized to its utmost-- every corner of the small enclave is filled with product, without anything like a coherent sorting system. Packaged snacks are next to socks, which are next to flashlights. Given the inter-galaxy trade and smuggling that went on between the Milky Way and Andromeda, its not hard to imagine that most of these things were sourced from leftover stock not worthy of making the trip. A sign above you, in bright neon, identifies the store as self-service-- taking anything from one of the shelves would automatically charge you by syncing with your ID chit. Stealing from such stores was common enough on any planet, much less a spacer's station like this, but you imagine the stock here just wasn't worth pocketing for most. <<if $Back is 3 and $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Special Dialogue")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' sometimes your decisions will allow you to make special choices, such as the (Scholar) option showcased here. Keep an eye out for them, you never know what new opportunities they could open up.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Poke around to see if there is anything interesting.->CheckShelves]] <<if $Back is 3>>[[(Scholar) Use your ocular library to take a quick scan of the merchandise.->ScholarScan]]<</if>> [[Step away from the stall.->StationIntro]] <<if $Strike3 is 1 and not $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>[[Those two gossips said someone from the Embassy might have misplaced something... look for anything out of place.->ECard]]<</if>>

<<if $Strike2 is 0>>The closer you get to the Embassy, the more various groups of people seem to clump together. Curiosity had pulled them in, but the guards stationed at the Embassy's doorway kept them at a certain distance. One particular pair, a man and woman, are louder than most. "...I just can't believe everything they say about Torei," you catch on approach, the man addressing his partner. "I understand things can get weird out in the backwater systems, and nothing is more backwater than a trans-galactic rogue system... but the things everyone says..." The woman nods enthusiastically. "I know, right? Fully realized AI, all that... what do they call it? //Laminate?// And the slavery. Apparently its common! Did you hear what the stationmaster allowed them?" //Lingering near them will quickly look a bit suspicious. If you intend to listen in, you will need to make an effort.// [[Step back and away from them.->AbandonGossips]] [[Act like you're looking at the nearby store signs.->FakeIt]] [["Excuse, but I overheard you say something about slavery?"->Intrude]]<<else>>Returning to the gossiping pair, you find them mostly watching the Torean Embassy's entrance, their earlier talkative speculation reduced to the occasional whispered word shared between them. You would have to effectively rest your head on their shoulders to hear anything, and with that not being a possibility you don't have much reason to linger. Still, checking everything out thoroughly never hurt. [[Step back and away.->StationIntro]]<</if>>

The way to the Embassy building is clear-- the white edifice juts out at the end of the street, its double set of doors flanked by a pair of guards in red uniforms. As you begin the walk to approach them, you realize that you may be inside for sometime. Who knew <<if $Back is 1>>how long it would take for them to track down the Ambassador for you, so that you could make your delivery of the Box.<</if>><<if $Back is 2>>how long your interview with the Ambassador would run, you certainly have a plethora of questions ready to barrage her with.<</if>><<if $Back is 3>>how long the Ambassador would spend picking your brain, given you're not even sure what exactly she needed someone like you for.<</if>> If you have anything you want to do before heading in, it is probably best to do so now. [[Good idea. Step back and consider your next move for a moment.->StationIntro]] [[Continue onward!->ApproachEmb2]]

<table style="width:100%"> <tr> <th>[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']]</th> </tr> </table>

The small man's face crunches up into a frown. He points a thick finger up the road. "Then you just keep on moving! Paying customers only! Gawkers just coming over here for the damned Embassy..." [[Step back from the bar.->StationIntro]]

@@.minbox;-3 Credits!@@ <<set $Debt -= 3>> "You got it, chum." Pulling forth a rather dirty looking glass, the bartender pours a caramel colored liquid into it. You don't catch the name from the bottle, and downing a bit reveals little-- except that it is quite watered down. Even for three credits you probably got fleeced a bit. But on the bright side, it does give you the ear of the bartender himself, who spends half his time watching the vid-screen beside him, and the other half eyeing you. [[Watch the TV some more.->WatchBarTV]] "[[So, you know anything about that Embassy?->AskBarEmb]]" [[Step away from the bar.->StationIntro]]

@@.minbox;-5 Credits!@@ <<set $Debt -= 5>> "You got it, chum." Pulling forth a rather dirty looking glass, the bartender pours a dark brown colored liquid into it. You don't catch the name from the bottle, and downing a bit reveals it to be a sort of whiskey, you think. Its quite watered down. Even for five credits you probably got fleeced a bit. But on the bright side, it does give you the ear of the bartender himself, who spends half his time watching the vid-screen beside him, and the other half eyeing you. [[Watch the TV some more.->WatchBarTV]] "[[So, you know anything about that Embassy?->AskBarEmb]]" [[Step away from the bar.->StationIntro]]

@@.minbox;-6 Credits!@@ <<set $Debt -= 6>> The bartender squints one eye at you. "Aye, thought you looked to be a spacer. Pilot, fresh off a drag? Yeah, looks like it. I was a pilot myself, for a long time. Got tired of the shit. But every one of us remembers a Nova Burst, aye? Any port worth its salt has one, and I ain't gonna skimp on that. You hold on, <<if $Gender is 1>>boy.<<else>>girl.<</if>>" Moving rather quickly despite his ungainly shape, the man combines a shot of several different bottles into one shot glass. Caramel, red, green-- mixed all together the drink comes out clear, as invisible as the radiation a star going nova gave off. Thus the name. And its just about as bad as a dose of that radiation would be, it actively burns as you gulp it down. But that was to be expected. The average spacer off a drag wanted to get drunk, and to do it quickly. Its probably best if you limit yourself to one. Making your delivery drunk would not be a good look. [[Watch the TV some more.->WatchBarTV]] "[[So, you know anything about that Embassy?->AskBarEmb]]" [[Step away from the bar.->StationIntro]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'bartv.gif']] <<set $Strike += 1>> <<if $Strike is 1>>The vid-screen is old and rather battered. It fits in well with the rest of the little bar's aesthetic. Of course its feed isn't particularly good either, the connection flickering like a nearly spent lightbulb, but it is manageable. You seem to have caught the beginning of a news program of some sort, the immaculate set and anchor leading you to presume it was probably filmed on one of the more populated worlds along the outer rim. "Good day Rim, and welcome to another day of news and developments! Let's get stuck right in, shall we? Our leading story today is CARTEL WAR! As our viewers know, many sections of galactic trade are managed by trading cartels, some of quite dubious reputation. And while this program would never seek to disparage our distribution partners, we hope our viewers will recall that the Zanweg Cartel is //not// one of those partners. How unfortunate, especially when instability strikes-- and that is just what appears to be occurring. As always information is slim, but sources within the organization have admitted to a recent upheaval in leadership. Some say this is due to a series of disappearances among the Cartel's governing body. But who is to blame? That's the real question, viewers. No one has claimed responsibility, none of the usual indicators of inter-Cartel conflict have been noted... there doesn't appear to be any method to this madness! How strange!" //<<if $Back is 1>>Strange indeed. You've worked for Cartels in the past, starship pilots inevitably did. Conflict between them usually resulted in violence, be it the shooting kind or, more often, of the financial sort. You've never heard of disappearances or kidnappings being used. And how could a group get away with that?<</if>><<if $Back is 2>>You've worked with enough media groups as a reporter to recognize Rimward News as the program, a rather shoddy outfit owned by a cartel rival of the Zanweg. Usually that would make their reporting on the topic suspect, but you don't see a motive here. The only reason to report on something like this, you consider, would be to try and flush out more informants by spreading the story. It must really be a mystery afterall.<</if>><<if $Back is 3>>You've never really followed Cartel news all that much, your studies as a scholar being of far more importance. The transport you had taken to this station was probably Cartel owned, although which one held the deed you couldn't even guess at. Querying your ocular library, you parse through a few results idly, and do find something of interest, though: the Zanweg Cartel had been the organization that had opened up Torei to offworld trading. Interesting.<</if>>*<</if>><<if $Strike is 2>>As you continue to watch, the Anchor switches glass devices on his desk, the next story's graphics being displayed over his shoulder. "Moving on to less salacious topics, another chapter in the story of humanity's origins continues to be written, as scholars reopen debate on the proposed homeworld of our species. Current scholarly consensus seems to be that our initial homeworld was renamed in the distant past, and has thus been confused or forgotten, but the multiple-genesis theory has been gaining steam in recent years. This theory suggests that humanity developed on several different worlds more or less simultaneously, resulting from convergent evolution. New evidence from the S--" The Anchor's voice and image are cut off by a flicker of static, the bartender having picked up his glass device. "Bor-ing," he grumbles, and begins flipping through several other different stations.<</if>><<if $Strike is 3>>The Bartender finishes his channel surfing by landing upon a sporting event of some kind. Wearing gear more approximate to armor than anything athletic, the players are propelled upon foot-mounted wheels, allowing them to reach tremendous speeds as they chase a ball upon the ground. High speed impacts appear to be common, each contact marked with the crash of their ceramic-plastic uniforms coming together. "Here we go," your host chuckles. "Let's just keep it at this, aye?" He doesn't seem to really care for your consent either way.<</if>><<if $Strike gt 3>>The screen continues to show the contact sport picked out by the bartender. It doesn't look like you're going to get anything more of interest by watching.<</if>> [[Watch more of the vid-screen.->WatchBarTV]] "[[So, you know anything about that Embassy?->AskBarEmb]]" [[Step away from the bar.->StationIntro]]

"Oh, do not get me //started//," the Bartender replies, with a gusto that suggests he was in fact just waiting for the opportunity to 'get started.' Slapping his hands down upon the bar between you and him, he leans forward. "I thought it was be a good thing, ya know. Brings more foot traffic, aye. But them people aren't here to drink, they're here to gawk! You can't get inside without an invitation of some sort, 'course, but you can still gawk at the guards outside. How am I supposed to compete with that, I ask ya. Them girls in those uniforms, all sleek and glossy, but covered entirely. Bah!" He throws up his hands in a rather theatric fashion. "[[What's that about the guards?->AskGuards]]" [[Watch the TV some more.->WatchBarTV]] [[Step away from the bar.->StationIntro]]

"Oh no you don't! If you want to go and look at 'em, you can just walk over there yourself. Just don't mess with them, hear me? They may look like some sort of fetish convention, aye, but those stun-staffs they carry pack a real wallop!" Idly, you wonder if the bartender had more first hand experience than he was letting on. [[Watch the TV some more.->WatchBarTV]] [[Step away from the bar.->StationIntro]]

Unfortunately your first glance appears to have largely taken the measure of the store: its stock is filled out with small tools, foods, and bits of clothing, but nothing of particular interest to you. The most interesting item on the shelves may be a live ferret, of all things, sleeping comfortably in a cage. Perhaps after your work at the Embassy you could stop by again, though. You haven't had anything to eat since arriving, and those snack cakes do look fresh enough. At least by the standards of a station like this. [[Step away from the stall.->StationIntro]]

The small device built into your glasses activates with a tap of your finger, its camera taking everything in within moments. Where most would have had to pick through the various shelves individually, your ocular library quick collates everything into an easy list for you to check, as well as providing additional information on the sourcing of several products. The socks, for example, were actually from a brand based in Andromeda. Given the absurdity of importing a value brand across the galactic divide, you conclude they were probably bootleg. Unfortunately there isn't anything of particular interest, despite your best efforts. Perhaps after your work at the Embassy you could stop by again, though. You haven't had anything to eat since arriving, and those snack cakes do look fresh enough. At least by the standards of a station like this. [[Step away from the stall.->StationIntro]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'keycard.png']] <<run $Pock.push('Embassy Keycard')>>@@.addbox;Embassy Keycard Added!@@ It takes a bit of searching. The boxes, containers, and bags hanging from the self-service store are myriad, and if the Embassy staff had searched previously you have to imagine whatever had been lost was pretty small. Even with that bit of deduction its difficult to look for something you do not even know the identity of, enough so that you're about to call it quits-- just as an errant shifting of your hips knocks over a box of snackcakes. As you pick it up, while acknowledging the store's basic monitoring system that you weren't buying anything, you notice something small slipped between a snackcake and the box side-- a keycard. It has not identifying markings, but given what the gossips had indicated, this //had// to be related to the Embassy somehow. [[Slip it into a pocket, and step back.->StationIntro]]

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'spacerboots.png']] ''Spacer Boots:'' //found aboard just every vessel traversing the stars, this simple set of boots are intended to be as comfortable as they are durable. Built from a synthetic leather, they feature an interior lining rated for emergency vacuum use.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'recorder.png']] ''Interview Recorder:'' //your trusty handheld recorder, capable of capturing both video and sound, with a few hundred hours of capacity built in. Intended for the rugged, go-anywhere reporter, you have had this particular model for several years now. The battery stored within is particularly efficient-- it generally lasts about a year.// @@

Gossiping would be of little value to you, when you have the invitation to simply see things with your own eyes. Abandoning the gossiping pair, you step away, trusting there is little you could have learned from them. By the time you look back over your shoulder they're out of earshot, and seem to have lapsed into less animated banter. At the very least you cannot hear them from half the station away. <<set $Strike2 to 1>> [[Where to next?->StationIntro]]

One sign in particular, a neon one in at least three different languages, serves well enough to disguise your intentions. You're close enough to hear them, and without looking suspicious. Certainly your jumpsuit helps in that-- several other passersby are similarly attired, the station's use as a trading and transport hub making it a common enough bit of clothing. "What did the stationmaster allow them?" The man asks, responding to his partner's earlier question. She's quick to oblige. "He recognized them as an official exclave, respecting all the Torean laws! That means slavery, I bet. Those guards out front are wearing //collars// after all. Do you think they're slaves? I bet they are." <<set $Strike2 to 1>> [[Linger a bit longer.->FakeIt2]] [[Enough gossip. Step away.->StationIntro]]

Your intrusion is met with a startled look from the pair, the woman recovering first-- and to your benefit, she only seems *more* enthused. "Yes, did you just arrive on the station? You look it. There is a Torean embassy just over there. Every heard of the planet? There are all sorts of salacious rumors about them!" The man nods, taking your presence in stride. "The guards out front are strange enough, but I've heard of something... kinda spooky on the 2nd floor in there. You can see the windows to it from here." He points, and indeed, there are several windows on the building's second story. Like many trader stations, the first level is without such security holes. "I heard you can sometimes see a figure all in black there, and that if the Embassy guards see it even they look uneasy. Not... that you can tell with the helmets they have, I mean, but like-- body language. Almost like they're seeing a ghost, or a demon." <<set $Strike2 to 1>> "[[Fascinating.->Talk2]]" "[[Well, thank you for your time.->EndTalk]]"

"Isn't it?" Smiling the woman leans in, falling to a hushed whisper. "Everyone talks about the Toreans being weird and kinky-- but they're not perfect, you know. I think one of the Embassy people, or one of their local contacts lost something, I swear it. A few days ago they were searching through that automated store, over there," she points to the one nearby. "Seemed like they lost something. Don't think they found it either. Wei--" She pauses suddenly, punching her partner on the shoulder. He had been staring at the Embassy Entrance. "Stop gawking at those guards! You said you wouldn't!" "I wasn't, I mean I-- it was an accident, honey, its just so hard not to and..." //Its quickly getting awkward over here. Perhaps its time to step away.// <<set $Strike3 to 1>> [[Just step quietly away...->StationIntro]] "[[Well, thank you for your time.->EndTalk]]"

"Oh, no problem. Enjoy the station!" They say the last bit in unison, and descend into whispers the moment you're a few feet away. Probably talking about //you* now// They seemed the sort. Either way, lingering here would help you little anymore. Stepping away from them, you return to the center of the concourse, to consider your next effort. [[What next?->StationIntro]]

Bringing a hand up to your chin, you really make a show of examining the neon near you. Under any kind of //real// observation your intentions would probably have been obvious. Thankfully the gossiping pair are almost completely oblivious, as the woman continues. "Everyone talks about the Toreans being weird and kinky-- but they're not perfect, you know. I think one of the Embassy people, or one of their local contacts lost something, I swear it. A few days ago they were searching through that automated store, over there," she points to the one nearby. "Seemed like they lost something. Don't think they found it either. Wei--" She pauses suddenly, punching her partner on the shoulder. He had been staring at the Embassy Entrance. "Stop gawking at those guards! You said you wouldn't!" "I wasn't, I mean I-- it was an accident, honey, its just so hard not to and..." The man steps back, nearly bumping into you-- he apologizes quickly, but your cover is certainly blown now. Time to move on. <<set $Strike3 to 1>> [[Just step quietly away...->StationIntro]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'embguard.png']] Step by step, you enter into the void between curious onlookers and the Torean Embassy proper. <<if $Back is 1>>You've seen your fair share of trader stations like this, and to find such space is rare indeed.<<elseif $Back is 2>>As a reporter, you've learned to seek out those voids-- for often what caused them would be worth investigating.<<elseif $Back is 3>>You imagine it would be like finding space in a hallway between classes at University-- a rare occurrence indeed.<</if>> What caused it? Trepidation. You sense it as the onlookers all focus on your back, watching your approach. What business did you have at the Embassy? As if ready to ask that very question, the pair of guards you had seen earlier await. Only now, approaching them up close, do you see that their uniforms are not the usual sort of military-kitsch so popular amongst hired muscle. What they wear is //far// stranger, your first real taste of Torei's peculiar reputation. From head to toe the pair wear a singular glossy material, light reflecting across their copious curves with even the most subtle of movements. They're completely covered yet seemingly exposed, the material intimately tight, framing chest and hips and waist in a manner you've never experienced before. Their uniforms even extend to their heads, an equally glossy helmet hiding their faces completely, an expansive black visor nevertheless utterly opaque. A small number upon their chest is the only differentiation, one marked as 03, the other 07. [[They look... wonderful.->ArouseIntro]] [[They look... incredibly lewd.->ArouseIntroNo]]

You do not fully understand what you're looking at, and yet... you find your face flushing, your hands just a bit sweaty. Were you getting aroused just by... looking at these women? <<set $ShowArousal to true>><<set $Arou to 20>> @@.addarou;+20 Arousal!@@ You're gawking so openly you almost don't notice the long staffs they each bear, planted to the side by one firm hand, which they cross before you-- barring your access to the door ahead. If you expected them to speak, they don't, only a top of the head from the leftmost guard giving any indication of communication. Inquiring silently about your purpose, perhaps? <<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Arousal Tracking Unlocked")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' arousal tracking is now unlocked, and can be found on the upper bar. Acting lewdly, thinking lewdly, or getting into compromising situations can increase your arousal. With too much, you may lose the oppotunity for more rational decision making... or open up new, extremely lewd options.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Stare at them longer.->GuardStare]] "[[U-Uh... I'm here... to see the Ambassador.->Here to see.]]"

You do not fully understand what you're looking at, and yet... you hold yourself steady, unwilling to succumb to the implicit temptation their uniforms presented. <<set $ShowArousal to true>><<set $Arou to 5>> @@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ You're gawking so openly you almost don't notice the long staffs they each bear, planted to the side by one firm hand, which they cross before you-- barring your access to the door ahead. If you expected them to speak, they don't, only a top of the head from the leftmost guard giving any indication of communication. Inquiring silently about your purpose, perhaps? <<if $Tutorial is true>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Arousal Tracking Unlocked")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' arousal tracking is now unlocked, and can be found on the upper bar. Acting lewdly, thinking lewdly, or getting into compromising situations can increase your arousal. With too much, you may lose the oppotunity for more rational decision making... or open up new, extremely lewd options.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Stare at them longer.->GuardStare]] "[[U-Uh... I'm here... to see the Ambassador.->Here to see.]]"

[img[setup.ImagePath+'embguard.png']] Your mouth slips subtly open as you continue to stare, unable to manage anything else in that moment. You're enthralled, although it is hard to place why. The glossy nature of their uniforms? The total encapsulation? The way their every identifying feature is gone, replaced by that number upon their chest? Perhaps you're even disgusted by the implicit lewdness of it all. <<set $Arou += 5>> @@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ Whatever your cause, the guard upon the left suddenly taps her staff upon the ground, the loud *clang* enough to induce something like rational thought through your mind. You couldn't just stand here, and besides, a glance over your shoulder reveals the clumped groups nearby watching you with a great deal of interest. Time to say //something?// "[[U-Uh... I'm here... to see the Ambassador.->Here to see.]]"

[img[setup.ImagePath+'embguard.png']] For a moment long enough to see you begin questioning if the guards could hear anything in those helmets, the pair before you remain silent and motionless. Yet just as you're about to give up, or at the very least try repeating yourself, the stun-staffs cross before the doorway are pulled back, and the guards turn inward-- framing the doorway, and gesturing for you to proceed. To call it strange would be an understatement. You've heard the stories about Torei, of course. Some of them at least. <<if $Back is 1>>Any pilot who dragged through the galactic rim could find someone claiming to have visited, although generally only after having liquored up in a dockside bar.<<elseif $Back is 2>>Researching the planet for your interview had proven difficult, conjecture impossible to separate from the facts.<<elseif $Back is 3>>Your interest had always been in the planet's AI, but avoiding everything //else// was just about impossible.<</if>> Such stories always focused on the scandalous. Torei was a world where slavery was not only legal, as the story went, but enthusiastically practiced. A particularly lascivious sort of slavery, in fact, and for offworlders such as yourself that meant any manner of fantasy could be explored if one simply traveled to the planet. For the right price, of course. Looking at the guards, you conclude that perhaps those sorts of rumors weren't all that misplaced, if //that// was how an Embassy sought to present itself to the galaxy at large. <<if $Tutorial is true and $Back is 2>><<run Dialog.setup("Tutorial: Special Dialogue")>><<run Dialog.wiki("''Tutorial:'' sometimes your decisions will allow you to make special choices, such as the (Reporter) option showcased here. Keep an eye out for them, you never know what new opportunities they could open up.")>><<run Dialog.open()>><</if>> [[Make your way inside.->EnterEmb]] <<if $Back is 2>>"[[(Reporter) Excuse me... but could you answer a question or two, before I enter?->RepAsk]]"<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'emblobby.png']] From the jumbled madness of a trading station's market, you enter into sudden serenity. Gone is the neon and bustle, replaced by a stark elegance, the lobby into which you step rendered in shades of complementary white. The walls are mostly unadorned, while the floor is stylized with geometric patterns. Everything exudes a certain cleanliness that bordered on sterile. A hallway extends out from the far side of the room, presumably leading into the rest of the building proper, but your focus instead falls upon that which is closer to you. To your left is a small waiting area, a plush looking couch of equally immaculate white occupied by a singular individual. To your right a desk and receptionist, the latter currently speaking with what you presume to be a station official of some sort-- the jumpsuit he wears bears Calliope's stylized logo. [[Take a seat in the waiting area, until the receptionist is available.->MeetJacq]] [[Stand in line, behind the station official.->MeetRecep]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'embguard.png']] Instead of a lengthy pause, this time the guard you had addressed immediately shakes her head, gesturing again for you to enter. When you don't, lingering on the precipice, the uniformed figure can be heard to exhale in frustration. Its the first sound you hear from them, but its what follows that intrigues you: "Mmmgh." Its a small thing, something like communication, but stilted. Almost as if gagged. She combines it with another use of her staff, this time on the small of your back, pushing you forward whether you liked it or not. You comply, without much opportunity otherwise, but your journalistic senses are already piqued. Certainly the guards could not be prevented from speaking, beneath those masks. ...right? [[Putting the thought aside, you enter the Embassy.->EnterEmb]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacqhead.png']] Making your way over to the L-shaped sofa, you take a seat upon the longer portion, furthest from the only other occupant-- who is sitting rather primly, a glass device held in their hands. Your focus is on the receptionist, awaiting your turn, but you cannot help but glance at the person sitting near you, which quickly turns into a double take. First assumptions had identified them as a non-Torean woman, seeking something from the embassy perhaps, but you find yourself questioning that immediately. First, were they even female? Gender could take all manner of forms across the galaxy, but the person to your side seems to be almost intentionally androgynous. They're lean and limber, their hair falling in a wave over one side of their head, but none of that helps. Further physical features do not assist, they don't seem to have much of a bust, but their hips *are* quite wide. They are at least dressed in a normal fashion, the fabric hoody they are wearing nothing like the glossy material of the guards outside. [[Or so you presume, until they cross their legs...->MeetJacq2]]

Making your way to a position a few feet back from the receptionist's desk, you're presented with a front row seat of what appears to be the tail end of an argument. The receptionist herself is blocked from view by the man looming over the desk, his hands planted firmly upon it. "...she cannot just *ignore* me, as stationmaster your little... whatever this is only goes on with my say so. And you have not payed me enough to put up with the sorts of people I have banging on my comm-line these days!" A feminine voice responds, placating with syllable. "My apologies, Master, but the Ambassador is not //ignoring// you. She is simply busy preparing for our departure, which is fast approaching. I believe she has--" "She needs to understand that this station's livelihood depends on good relations with all sorts of people, poisoning those relationships is not something I will condone!" The woman simply picks up where she had left off. "I believe the Ambassador has paid you the requested docking fees until the end of the week, by which time we will have departed. If you would like to leave her a message, however, it would be my pleasure to provide you the means to do so." [[Continue listening.->ListenGood]] <<if $Back is 1>>[[(Pilot) Wait... docking fees?->PilotDock]]<<elseif $Back is 2>>[[(Reporter) Wait... poisoning relationships?->ReporterDock]]<<else>>[[(Scholar) Wait... use your ocular library, check for station data.->ScholarDock]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacqlegs.png']] The table between you and them had obscured their legs, but they cross them now, revealing toned legs cloaked in a glistening black material. That's shock enough, as one knee settles upon the other, their boot is revealed, the design extreme in every sense of the word-- they appear to be perpetually on their toes, so much higher and more intense than a heeled boot, and indeed lacking a heel altogether. The balanced required must be phenomenal! And of course it is in the same strange Torean material as their pants, tight and form-fitting, so alluringly reflective... "Hey, <<if $Gender is 1>>mister<<else>>miss<</if>>? Eyes are up here." You look up suddenly to see their attention having risen from the glass device in their hands to you, a smile pulling their lips into a look of amusement. Reaching up, they run a hand through their hair, giving it a rakish pull to the side. As they do they tap their strange boot slightly, almost playfully, a slight //clink// drawing your attention to a padlock at their ankle, clearly intended to prevent removal. "They're as strict as they look," the person grins, as if that was a //good// thing. "What are you waiting for?" <<set $MeetJacq to true>> "[[I, uh... um...->FumblJacq]]" "[[For the receptionist!->LoudJacq]]" "[[They do look strict...->StrictJacq]]"

<<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ "No," they laugh, pointing towards the reception. "I meant the way is clear, what are you waiting for?" And indeed, the man you had seen speaking with the receptionist has indeed left. Rising quickly to collect yourself, and to avoid your own embarrassment, the strictly booted figure remains just where they were. They do however lean forward, chin in the palm of their hand, clearly intent on watching you now. "Go on, I won't tell." You turn your back to them immediately, confused and frustrated. Tell what? A deep breath and a step away centers you, as you struggle to pull your attention away from the strange encounter. You have work to do here, don't you? [[You step up to the receptionist's desk.->HelloRecp]]

<<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ "I know," they laugh, pointing towards the reception. "I meant the way is clear, what are you waiting for?" And indeed, the man you had seen speaking with the receptionist has indeed left. Rising quickly to collect yourself, and to avoid your own embarrassment, the strictly booted figure remains just where they were. They do however lean forward, chin in the palm of their hand, clearly intent on watching you now. "Go on, I won't tell." You turn your back to them immediately, confused and frustrated. Tell what? A deep breath and a step away centers you, as you struggle to pull your attention away from the strange encounter. You have work to do here, don't you? [[You step up to the receptionist's desk.->HelloRecp]]

<<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ "Oh?" Their tightly bound foot, so severely positioned, is wiggled a bit to match their amusement. "How unexpected. But I meant the way is clear, and you... have some reason to be here, right?" A glance towards the desk confirms that the man you had seen speaking with the receptionist has indeed left. Tearing your gaze from their legs, you stand and collect yourself, while the strictly booted figure remains just where they were. They do however lean forward, chin in the palm of their hand, clearly intent on watching you now. "Go on, now I'm interested." You turn your back to them immediately, confused and yet... intrigued? Why? A deep breath and a step away centers you, even as you struggle to pull your attention away from the strange encounter. You have work to do here, don't you? [[You step up to the receptionist's desk.->HelloRecp]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'recepout.png']] Perhaps you should have suspected that the receptionist that awaits you would not be like anything else from this station, or any other world you've been upon. Her outfit is something like you would expect from an office environment, but utterly warped, fetishized to the point of incredulity. Much the guards the material is incredibly tight, framing perky breasts and an impressive waistline, furthered by what you recognize as a corset tightly laced. That's all you can see directly head on, the desk she stands behind blocks everything else-- were it not for the mirror behind, as if positioned intentionally to allow you to revel further. Her skirt is tight and short, the ruffled edge falling far short of her knees, and her shoes force her up onto her toes, black stiletto heels with red insets matching the color scheme elsewhere. But its the chain between her legs that mark her as something altogether new, seemingly locked to cuffs at each ankle. Another set adorn her wrists, the chain between long enough to allow typing at best. A final bit of steel can be found at her throat, a collar marked with a small pendent hanging down the front, alongside a chain that leashed her to a hardpoint built atop the desk itself. <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ Undoubtedly noticing your stare, she nevertheless smiles back brightly, long black lashes marking the blink that is the only sign of anything but hospitality. "Good day, <<if $Gender is 1>>Master.<<else>>Mistress.<</if>> Welcome to the Aekoran Merchant's Association of Torei Embassy. How may I assist you today?" <<set $Strike to 0>><<set $Strike2 to 0>> <<if $Gender is 1>>"[[I'm not a Master...->NotMaster]]"<<else>>"[[I'm not a Mistress...->NotMaster]]"<</if>> "[[Why... are you chained up like that?->AskChain]]" "[[Can I ask... what you're wearing?->AskLam]]" "[[I'm here to see the Ambassador.->AskAmb]]"

Remaining silent, you cross your arms, and listen as the argument winds down. "I have already left half a dozen messages, another one will do no good." Standing up to his full height, the station master sighs. "Just make it clear to the Ambassador that I will enforce the clearing of this dock at the //very minute// specified in the contract, do you hear me? The sooner you people are out of my hair, the sooner things can return to normal. You have brought nothing but trouble." The receptionist remains cloying placid. "Of course, Master. The Ambassador is very particular about contractual punctuality. She will be pleased to here of it. Now... I believe a queue is forming? If there was anything else..." She doesn't get any further response but a //hmmph// from the man, who glances over his shoulder at you only long enough to shoot a dirty look. Stalking off towards the Embassy exit, you're left with a clear path to the reception desk. [[Approach.->HelloRecp]]

You had not been expecting it, but looking for the signs now... //yes//. That quiet hum, the sort every spacer grew accustomed to, and feared to have suddenly cut out. Glancing around again with newfound appreciation, you realize you're not in a building at all-- but a *ship*, one probably fashioned to work as a traveling embassy, no matter where it landed or docked. Impressive. "I have already left half a dozen messages, another one will do no good." Standing up to his full height, the station master sighs. "Just make it clear to the Ambassador that I will enforce the clearing of this dock at the //very minute// specified in the contract, do you hear me? The sooner you people are out of my hair, the sooner things can return to normal. You have brought nothing but trouble." The receptionist remains cloying placid. "Of course, Master. The Ambassador is very particular about contractual punctuality. She will be pleased to here of it. Now... I believe a queue is forming? If there was anything else..." She doesn't get any further response but a //hmmph// from the man, who glances over his shoulder at you only long enough to shoot a dirty look. Stalking off towards the Embassy exit, you're left with a clear path to the reception desk. [[Approach.->HelloRecp]]

Your sense for a good story tingles wildly. Poisoned relationships? Here? That could only mean one of two things: legitimate traders preparing to make the jump to Andromeda, or the various Cartels. You can rule out straight traders. Why would they care about an embassy from a small, backwater world. Any new contracts signed here would be drops in the proverbial bucket compared to the ocean trans-galactic trade represented. That left the Cartels, or perhaps one in particular. But who...? "I have already left half a dozen messages, another one will do no good." Standing up to his full height, the station master sighs. "Just make it clear to the Ambassador that I will enforce the clearing of this dock at the //very minute// specified in the contract, do you hear me? The sooner you people are out of my hair, the sooner things can return to normal. You have brought nothing but trouble." The receptionist remains cloying placid. "Of course, Master. The Ambassador is very particular about contractual punctuality. She will be pleased to here of it. Now... I believe a queue is forming? If there was anything else..." She doesn't get any further response but a //hmmph// from the man, who glances over his shoulder at you only long enough to shoot a dirty look. Stalking off towards the Embassy exit, you're left with a clear path to the reception desk. [[Approach.->HelloRecp]]

With a quiet command you pull up the public listings for this station, focusing on the docking positions available. Most are on the lower level, you find, where your own transport had come into port. But one is listed... pretty much right where you are standing, providing direct access to the marketplace. Glancing around again with newfound appreciation, you realize you're not in a building at all-- but a *ship*, one probably fashioned to work as a traveling embassy, no matter where it landed or docked. Impressive. "I have already left half a dozen messages, another one will do no good." Standing up to his full height, the station master sighs. "Just make it clear to the Ambassador that I will enforce the clearing of this dock at the //very minute// specified in the contract, do you hear me? The sooner you people are out of my hair, the sooner things can return to normal. You have brought nothing but trouble." The receptionist remains cloying placid. "Of course, Master. The Ambassador is very particular about contractual punctuality. She will be pleased to here of it. Now... I believe a queue is forming? If there was anything else..." She doesn't get any further response but a //hmmph// from the man, who glances over his shoulder at you only long enough to shoot a dirty look. Stalking off towards the Embassy exit, you're left with a clear path to the reception desk. [[Approach.->HelloRecp]]

"Oh, but you are," the receptionist asserts. "You're a <<if $Gender is 1>>free sire<<else>>freewomb<</if>> after all, are you not? Offworlders can be so strange. Although... I suppose that //I// am the offworlder here. Or perhaps neither of us are, since this is a space station." She shrugs, the effort shifting her glossy blouse somewhat. You cannot help but notice two small buds framing each of her nipples. Were they... pierced? Her uniform certainly left... little to the imagination. <<if $Strike is 0>><<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@<</if>> <<set $Strike += 1>> "Anyway, was there anything further I could assist you with?" [["Why... are you chained up like that?"->AskChain]] [["Can I ask... what you're wearing?"->AskLam]] [["I'm here to see the Ambassador."->AskAmb]]

"Hm? Oh." Lifting her hands, she looks down at them, such bold use of restraints apparently mundane to her. "Bondage is quite common in Torean culture. I suppose it does help keep me focused. And of course as an outreach program, we all must do our part to demonstrate the desirable aspects of Torean manufacture, practice, and culture. It is only proper, and besides, these aren't too bad at all. You struggle to imagine what *bad* restraints would look like to her. [[And that imagining excites you, a bit.->ExciteChain]] [[And that imagining leaves you wary.->ExciteReg]]

The secretary nods. "That is, by far, the most popular question asked of us. I am wearing //Laminate.// Torei is very resource poor, but what we //do// have plenty of is a particular lichen that can be processed into laminate. It is somewhat comparable to latex, which you may have encountered previously, but has numerous benefits. Easily recyclable, capable of being flash-printed, and much better for long term or even continual wear, it is the only thing that most Toreans wear. Even today, if you question most Toreans about the sorts of... textiles that you're wearing, they would find it quite strange." She turns a bit to the side, demonstrating her silhouette in all its glory. "It really is quite comfortable... far more than your itchy plant products, or the synthetic equivalents. And far more enjoyable. Normally I would recommend trying it for yourself, but the Ambassador has suspended use of the public Wardrobe due to our impending departure. A shame. You would wear it well I think." <<set $ExplainLam to true>> <<if $Gender is 1>>"[[I'm not a Master...->NotMaster]]"<<else>>"[[I'm not a Mistress...->NotMaster]]"<</if>> "[[Why... are you chained up like that?->AskChain]]" "[[I'm here to see the Ambassador.->AskAmb]]"

[img[setup.ImagePath+'recepout.png']] "I see." She types into the terminal to her side, the chain running from her throat to the desk pulling momentarily taut. "Name, please? And ID chit, of course." Producing your ID chit from a pocket, you slide it across the desk into her waiting hands. As for your name... [[Say it aloud.->NamePicker]]

<<if $Strike2 is 0>><<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@<</if>> <<set $Strike2 += 1>> "Most offworlders do not stare at them as often as you do," the receptionist notes. "So shall we move on? Was there anything further you would need?" <<if $Gender is 1>>"[[I'm not a Master...->NotMaster]]"<<else>>"[[I'm not a Mistress...->NotMaster]]"<</if>> "[[Can I ask... what you're wearing?->AskLam]]" "[[I'm here to see the Ambassador.->AskAmb]]"

Collecting her hands together, the receptionist rocks on her heels a bit. "Was there anything further with which I could assist?" <<if $Gender is 1>>"[[I'm not a Master...->NotMaster]]"<<else>>"[[I'm not a Mistress...->NotMaster]]"<</if>> "[[Can I ask... what you're wearing?->AskLam]]" "[[I'm here to see the Ambassador.->AskAmb]]"

<<script>> setup.done = function () { $("#name").empty().wiki("Hello there, $Name."); } Dialog.setup("Enter Your First Name:"); Dialog.wiki('<<textbox "$Name" "Cam" autofocus>> <<button "Done">><<run setup.done()>><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>>'); Dialog.open({top: "calc(50vh - 51px)"}, setup.done); <</script>> "And your last name, please?" [[Once more, with gusto.->NamePicker2]]

<<script>> setup.done = function () { $("#name").empty().wiki("Hello there, $LName."); } Dialog.setup("Enter Your Last Name:"); Dialog.wiki('<<textbox "$LName" "Rodgers" autofocus>> <<button "Done">><<run setup.done()>><<run Dialog.close()>><</button>>'); Dialog.open({top: "calc(50vh - 51px)"}, setup.done); <</script>> "$Name and... ah, yes. I see that <<if $Back is 1>>you're the contractor listed for delivery of a high priority package? And you do have it with you? Wonderful.<<elseif $Back is 2>>you're the reporter with the sceduled interview. How very lucky of you, we rarely seeks attention in that manner.<<elseif $Back is 3>>you're the university scholar that is expected? Wonderful.<</if>> It appears everything checks out here." Sliding your ID Chit back across the table, the receptionist types further. "Hmm, it appears that Ambassador Sargon is currently occupied. <<if $Back is 1>>She has expressed great interest in your delivery, however.<<elseif $Back is 2>>She has expressed great interest in your arrival, however.<<elseif $Back is 3>>She has expressed great interest in your work, however.<</if>> I will have one of the guards take you to a conference roo--" "That won't be necessary, I can walk them there." [[You turn, seeking the source of the new voice.->Jacq2]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacqhead.png']] <<if $MeetJacq is false>>At first glance you find a woman in garb foreign to the Torean Embassy, but such impressions are often mistaken, as yours is now. Performing a double take, you find yourself questioning everything you had just presumed. First, were they even female? Gender could take all manner of forms across the galaxy, but the person to your side seems to be almost intentionally androgynous. They're lean and limber, their hair falling in a wave over one side of their head, but none of that helps. Further physical features do not assist, they don't seem to have much of a bust, but their hips //are// quite wide. And it is at their hips that their dress changes from a simple fabric hoody to something far more glossy beneath. [img[setup.ImagePath+'jacqlegs.png']] Long, toned legs in glistening black material run down to the ground, where instead of anything like a regular shoe or even high-heeled boot, you observe a design far more extreme in every sense of the word-- they appear to be perpetually on their toes, the shoe lacking a heel altogether. The balance required to stand, much less walk must be phenomenal! And of course it is in the same strange Torean material as their pants, tight and form-fitting, so alluringly reflective... "Hey, <<if $Gender is 1>>mister<<else>>miss?<</if>> Eyes are up here." You look up to find their gaze firmly upon you, an easy smile pulling their lips into a look of amusement.<<else>>You recognize them immediately: the figure from the sofa just minutes before, now standing so casually upon their toes, their boots just as demanding in action as you have been led to believe. Yet they make it look //easy//.<</if>> "Name is Jacq," they greet, still grinning. "I thought you might be the one I was waiting for." "[[You were... waiting for me?->WaitingFor]]" "[[Good to meet you, Jacq.->GoodJacq]]"

"Yep." The response is almost flippant in its brevity. "<<if $Back is 1>>Figuring transit times, thought this might be the day you'd come into port.<<elseif $Back is 2>>You've got a reputation for being punctual, if my sources are correct. Relentless too.<<elseif $Back is 3>>Just did the math to figure out your transit times, so it wasn't hard or anything like that.<</if>> Come on, like I said, I'll walk you to the conference room. I can assure you, I'm a much better conversationalist than any of the Embassy guards." That smile again, alongside a slight bow, both arms directing you to the hallway that led away from the reception area. <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>Before you leave, however, this is probably your last chance to turn in that Embassy Keycard you found outside. Perhaps that would improve the Ambassador's view of you? Or you could always keep it, perhaps the chance would come to explore...<<else>>You don't really have any reason to linger. Might as well go.<</if>> [[Follow Jacq's lead.->WalkJacq]] <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>"[[Actually, I do have something to turn over...->TurnInKey]]"<</if>>

"Same, same." The response is almost flippant in its brevity. "<<if $Back is 1>>Figuring transit times, thought this might be the day you'd come into port.<<elseif $Back is 2>>You've got a reputation for being punctual, if my sources are correct. Relentless too.<<elseif $Back is 3>>Just did the math to figure out your transit times, so it wasn't hard or anything like that.<</if>> Come on, like I said, I'll walk you to the conference room. I can assure you, I'm a much better conversationalist than any of the Embassy guards." That smile again, alongside a slight bow, both arms directing you to the hallway that led away from the reception area. <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>Before you leave, however, this is probably your last chance to turn in that Embassy Keycard you found outside. Perhaps that would improve the Ambassador's view of you? Or you could always keep it, perhaps the chance would come to explore...<<else>>You don't really have any reason to linger. Might as well go.<</if>> [[Follow Jacq's lead.->WalkJacq]] <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>"[[Actually, I do have something to turn over...->TurnInKey]]"<</if>>

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'idchit.png']] ''ID Chit:'' // small data chit, capable of storing several thousand gigabytes of information, of the standardized sort accepted on most worlds. Features both (admittedly ancient) analogue adapators, and modern wireless connectivity. Contains everything of note about you, from name and affiliation, to a medical history in case of emergency, as well as financial information to enable purchases and transfers anywhere in the galaxies.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'ocular.png']] ''Ocular Library:'' //generally intended for academic use, this glasses-mounted data storage and retrieval device is capable of projecting a simple display in your line of sight, and can pull up relevant information whenever prompted. Its capabilities are limited by the local network, and degraded service should be expected outside of major population bands.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'thebox.png']] ''The Box:'' //it is a simple thing, each side perhaps eight inches long, and somewhat soft to the touch. Nevertheless it is far heavier than most would suspect, even if you've found no way to explore its contents-- if it even had any. There are no seams, no openings or breaks in the obsidian casting. It is a box without a key, an enigma you've carried across half the Milky Way.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'keycard.png']] ''Embassy Keycard:'' //a small glass-based access card, this particular model is a bit scuffed, although its difficult to say if that was simply from its age, or from being dropped. Either way, it apparently could grant access to the second floor of the Embassy complex. The Embassy itself would probably be happy to have it back, but if you wanted to explore a bit...// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'stillboot.png']] ''Stiletto Boots:'' //rendered in glossy laminate, these imposing stilettos thrust you up on your toes, their six inch heels matched with a platform. Laced up to your thigh, walking gracefulyl in them requires considerable effort, and a few hours wear can quickly prove tiring.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'ccset.png']] ''Cuff and Collar Set'' //considered the "standard" set of restraints expected upon most slaves on Torei, this set includes two wrists cuffs, two ankle cuffs, and a simple collar pulled tight around your throat. All of them feature a steel attachement point, allowing for the wearer to be easily restrained if desired.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'repromask.png']] ''Reprogramming Mask:'' //origin unknown, this fully enclosed mask features a full laminate hood and front-facing breather, the included visor heavily tinted. Hidden within is a cock gag, wearing of the mask requiring the member to be fully inserted into the wearer's mouth. Six maglocks ensure it cannot removed, while the filters within make every breath an effort. And sometimes...// <div class="comppurp">commands appear within the visor's HUD.</div> @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'plugs.png']] ''Reprogramming Plugs'' //lodged within your cunt and rear, this paired set of plugs fill your holes entirely, their presence incapable of being ignored. You're unsure of their capabilities, but you have greater concerns, even if they're conflicted. On one hand, you have absolutely no way of removing them. And on the other, their bases are flared and rigid, smoothly aligning with your body but effectively forming a barrier from naval to rear, referred to by Wardrobes as a "slut guard". Orgasming by rubbing or pushing them is impossible.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'corset.png']] ''Underbust Corset:'' //seated just below your chest, this strict accessory encircles your waist in laminate, the steel boning within ensuring a streamlined figure. Laces along the back allow for adjustment, but a panel and locks prevent you from accessing it. As tight as it is, you cannot do much with the busks that run down the front either. It does improve your figure considerably, however.// @@

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'nullbulge.png']] ''Null Bulge and Plug:'' //built into your suit, the plug is inserted fully into your rear, a thick faux-phallus you cannot remove. Of far greater frustration is the bulge, however, a smooth laminate impediment encapsulating your manhood. Padded laminate and the slickness of the material makes stimulating your cock by hand utterly impossible, all efforts simply find you struggling with the bulge, impotently prevening anything like stimulation. A blatant lock-symbol imprinted upon it only advertises your distress.// @@

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacqhead.png']] Jacq quickly moves to take the lead, turning around once there to walk backwards ahead of you-- a truly impressive display given their boots. Just how much practice it would take to look *that* natural in them you cannot even guess at. "So... first taste of Torei, right? I remember mine, although I did it on the planet itself. Hell of a ride. <<if $ExplainLam is true>>Heard you asking about laminate, so at you least you know what you're looking at, so to speak. Its definitely the thing everyone notices first.<<else>>You're probably wondering about what just about everyone is wearing, right? That's always the first question. Its called //laminate//. Something like latex, if you've ever encountered it, but so much better in pretty much every way. And the way it //feels!// Everyone tries it eventually, at least on Torei. Do you know what the second question is? The thing everyone notices second? I bet its true for you. Can't miss the boots, but...<</if>>" Reaching up, they tap at their throat-- where for the first time you notice a band of silver. Its much like the receptionist's, in fact, from the thick band pulled tightly around the neck, to the small pendant hanging down at the fore of their throat. A collar. "//Now// you got some questions, I suspect. Well better make it count. I'll answer //one.//" They smile, only breaking from the expression to glance over their shoulder, leading you down a side passage off from the original hallway. The reception area disappears from view, and the path ahead narrows. "[[So... you're not Torean?->ATorean]]" "[[So... you're a slave?->ASlave]]" "[[Can I get boots like yours?->ABoots]]" <<if $Back is 1>>"[[(Pilot) You know anything about this box I'm delivering?->PBox]]"<<elseif $Back is 2>>"[[(Reporter) Would you be willing to answer some questions, after I finish with the Ambassador?->PAmb]]"<<elseif $Back is 3>>"[[(Scholar) Just what exactly is your role, in this Embassy?->PSco]]"<</if>>

@@.minbox;Embassy Keycard Removed!@@ <<run $Pock.delete("Embassy Keycard")>> Placing the keycard upon the desk, you detect a hint of surprise from the otherwise implacable receptionist. "Oh. Well, that's... very good. Thank you, <<if $Gender is 1>>Master<<elseif $Gender is 2>>Mistress<</if>>. I will append this to the notes prepared for Ambassador Sargon, with regards to your meeting. I am certain she will be thrilled to recover this." At your side, Jacq is more animated. "Oh she will just be //thrilled//. Very good, $Name. Mistress does love a good <<if $Gender is 1>>boy<<elseif $Gender is 2>>girl<</if>>. Anyway, come on, I'll show you just where you need to go." <<set $TurnedKey to true>> [[You follow.->WalkJacq]]

"Oh, so //are// paying attention. Correct. Always liked to travel, but I wasn't even dirt poor-- that suggests you at least got dirt. So I learned how to stow away, started as a kid. Not a bad way to fly<<if $Back is 1>>, sorry to say, seeing as you're a pilot yourself<</if>>. Was trying to make it across the black, to Andromeda, when I picked the wrong ship. Or perhaps the right one. Landed on Torei. Never looked back, although that's not really an option anyway, once you pick up a couple locks. Maybe you'll see?" They fold their hands back, then lean forward, the posture requiring a widening of their stance. It only draws attention to the laminate coating Jacq's legs, so tight and smooth. You almost start staring again before you realize you've come to a stop, beside a door conveniently marked //Conference//. You seem to be in a corner of the structure, the hallway otherwise ending. Across the way another door is visible however, clear enough for you to see steps leading up to what must be a second level. A red indicator denotes the door was locked however, and Jacq //is// standing right there. [[Step into the Conference Room.->ConfStart]]

"Oh, so //are// paying attention. Yes." Jacq doesn't even seem fazed by it. "For a few years now, by Ambassador Sargon herself. Thus the boots, Mistress is very concerned about offworlder posture. Ignore the hoodie I'm wearing though, being textiles and all. Only really do that when away from Torei, helps to blend in a bit. Now I'm back though, gonna dump it as soon as I'm done with you. Ah, but we're here." They fold their hands back, then lean forward, the posture requiring a widening of their stance. It only draws attention to the laminate coating Jacq's legs, so tight and smooth. You almost start staring again before you realize you've come to a stop, beside a door conveniently marked //Conference//. You seem to be in a corner of the structure, the hallway otherwise ending. Across the way another door is visible however, clear enough for you to see steps leading up to what must be a second level. A red indicator denotes the door was locked however, and Jacq //is// standing right there. [[Step into the Conference Room.->ConfStart]]

<<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ Jacq laughs, running a hand through the hair swept atop their head. "Aren't you a curious thing, $Name $LName? Even native born Toreans don't generally ask that sort of thing, but then again, that's because they know how demanding a day in these can be. But maybe that is part of the appeal for you? Heh. You're going to be a fun one, I'm willing to bet on that." They fold their hands back, then lean forward, the posture requiring a widening of their stance. It only draws attention to the laminate coating Jacq's legs, so tight and smooth. You almost start staring again before you realize you've come to a stop, beside a door conveniently marked //Conference//. You seem to be in a corner of the structure, the hallway otherwise ending. Across the way another door is visible however, clear enough for you to see steps leading up to what must be a second level. A red indicator denotes the door was locked however, and Jacq //is// standing right there. [[Step into the Conference Room.->ConfStart]]

Jacq nods. "Ain't gonna tell you, though. No offense, fly-<<if $Gender is 1>>boy<<elseif $Gender is 2>>girl<</if>>. But that rule comes straight from Mistress, uh, //the Ambassador//, and I'm not about to break it. Sometimes that's where the fun comes in, of course, but not this time. We generally don't like those coming back in their box, if you know what I mean." They fold their hands back, then lean forward, the posture requiring a widening of their stance. It only draws attention to the laminate coating Jacq's legs, so tight and smooth. You almost start staring again before you realize you've come to a stop, beside a door conveniently marked //Conference//. You seem to be in a corner of the structure, the hallway otherwise ending. Across the way another door is visible however, clear enough for you to see steps leading up to what must be a second level. A red indicator denotes the door was locked however, and Jacq //is// standing right there. [[Step into the Conference Room.->ConfStart]]

Jacq shakes their head. "I like talking, sure, but Mistress-- ah, the //Ambassador// specifically warned us against talking with anyone who could be called Press. That means you, no offense. And besides, I don't really think there will be the opportunity." A short pause, followed by a further smile. "Because you'll be satisfied after speaking with the Ambassador, I mean." They fold their hands back, then lean forward, the posture requiring a widening of their stance. It only draws attention to the laminate coating Jacq's legs, so tight and smooth. You almost start staring again before you realize you've come to a stop, beside a door conveniently marked //Conference//. You seem to be in a corner of the structure, the hallway otherwise ending. Across the way another door is visible however, clear enough for you to see steps leading up to what must be a second level. A red indicator denotes the door was locked however, and Jacq //is*// standing right there. [[Step into the Conference Room.->ConfStart]]

"I'm Mistress' favorite," Jacq replies immediately, smiling even further. "The Ambassador's, I mean. And I like to think I can be helpful in all manner of ways, especially because I'm what Toreans would call an offworlder. Used to travel between all sorts of decrepit little trading stations like this one, and that can be useful for an Embassy, right? Even if I'm walking these old streets in a new set of shoes." They fold their hands back, then lean forward, the posture requiring a widening of their stance. It only draws attention to the laminate coating Jacq's legs, so tight and smooth. You almost start staring again before you realize you've come to a stop, beside a door conveniently marked //Conference//. You seem to be in a corner of the structure, the hallway otherwise ending. Across the way another door is visible however, clear enough for you to see steps leading up to what must be a second level. A red indicator denotes the door was locked however, and Jacq //is// standing right there. [[Step into the Conference Room.->ConfStart]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'confroom.png']] The conference room is, at least, not in the least bit strange. As austerely adorned as the rest of the Embassy, white panels offset by bold use of faux-wood dominates your surroundings, while a table at the center takes up much of the available space. Capable of hosting about a dozen, besides you and Jacq it is otherwise empty for the moment. "The Ambassador will be along shortly, I'm sure. It will certainly be announced over the intercom. I'll stay here to keep you company, and to ensure you don't wa--" Jacq is interrupted by the very intercom they had mentioned, albeit bearing a different message. "Jacq to the control suite, I repeat-- Jacq to the control suite. Thank you." "Kamn." Having just leaned against the doorway leading back out into the hallway, Jacq stands back up fully, a smile momentarily breaking across their face. Its gone quickly however, replaced by a thumb flicked over their shoulder. "Well, I guess I'm needed upstairs. You just stay here, alright? I'm sure you can do that, I'll be back soon with the Ambassador. She's not as eager to meet you as I am... but I'm told I can be a bit excitable." They don't wait for a response, instead exiting with a singular long stride atop those extreme boots. Through the window you can see them access the panel next to the door leading upstairs, which they enter, disappearing from view shortly afterward. <<nobr>><<set $PlantSmell to 0>> <<set $Strike to 0>> <<set $Strike3 to 0>> <<set $UnlockNet to false>> <<set $ShelfSearch to 0>> <<set $Balled to false>> <<set $ComputerOn to false>> <<set $CardReward to false>> <<set $Marina to 0>> <<set $MetMarina to false>> <<set $Timer to 0>> <<set $Strike2 to 0>> <<set $FastTime to false>> <<set $ControlMeet to false>> <<set $BoxMeet to false>> <<set $FoundBoxKey to false>> <<set $ChairWait to 0>> <<set $ChairAnger to false>> <<set $PlantCum to 0>> <<set $GotRecep to false>> <<set $TookPic to 0>> <<set $TriedFeed to false>> <<set $CellCum to false>> <<set $SawSlave to false>> <<set $BadCount to 0>> <<set $EscapeAttempt to false>> <<set $LateSlave to false>> <</nobr>> [[You're left alone.->Conf2]]

Alone, and unsupervised. You could merely wait, as you've been directed. That would be the simplest path, the safest. <<if $Back is 1>>Deliver the Box into the hands of the Ambassador, as you've always done. Easy money.<<elseif $Back is 2>>Wait for your interview, and hope it would be enough for a story.<<elseif $Back is 3>>Wait for the Ambassador, perhaps learn why she had sent for you.<</if>> But that would be ignoring the suspicion in the back of your mind, that you just can't shake. <<if $Back is 1>>The deal had always seemed too good to be true. What if the Ambassador refused to pay? What was inside the Box anyway?<<elseif $Back is 2>>You had tweaked them somehow, these Toreans. Your investigation had been approaching a revelation, and they had granted you this interview as a way to cut everything off at the knees. Is that what was really going on?<<elseif $Back is 3>>There were official channels for these sorts of inquiries. To call you here directly, to be so vague on the particulars... one always had to be careful when working with artificial intelligence, or those interest in it.<</if>> Perhaps it would be better if you took the moment to look around a bit? Jacq //had// made it clear that you would have warning of the Ambassador's approach, by intercom message. Certainly there had to be something to sate your curiosities, or fears. You passed several other rooms on your way here with Jacq. And of course there was that 2nd floor, the key to which <<if $TurnedKey is true>>you had chosen to turn over. Maybe there was another way in?<<elseif $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>still resided safely in your pocket.<<else>>you would need to locate, somehow.<</if>> What would be up there, to be so secured //within// a structure already guarded from without. [[The choice is yours.->ConfRoom]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'confroom.png']] The conference room stretches before you, quiet and unoccupied besides yourself. One of the walls is a stonework looking sort, two of them a faux-wood. The third, behind you, is a mirror surface reflecting everything back at you-- making the entire room look twice as big as it actually was. <<nobr>> <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>You catch sight of yourself in that mirror, the loose-fitting jumpsuit and simple set of boots you're wearing looking decidedly pedestrian amongst the subtle wealth surrounding you. Torei was supposed to be rather poor, at least on the galactic scale of things, but you suppose every society had its nobility, or whatever an Ambassador was on Torei. <<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, and are once again reminded of the laminate uniform you now wear. <<if $Gender is 1>>It frames and amplifies your every feature, even if the aesthetic had been originally designed for a more feminine form. The corset at your waist pulls in your figure, amplifying hips a bit too narrow to really pull off the skirt, and showing off legs that are put on display by the demanding stilettos locked onto each foot. You cannot help but be embarrassed, of course... and you can only imagine what others would think, seeing you like this. How are you supposed to complete your work here? <<elseif $Gender is 2>>It frames and amplifies your every feature, the corset pulling in your waist, the tight material across the chest drawing attention to your breasts. With the dark, smoky makeup applied you //do// look alluring, but you cannot shake the sensation of embarrassment. What would the Ambassador think, when she saw you like this? How were you supposed to complete your work here? <</if>><</if>> <<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, and wonder what has become of you. There is nothing to indicate just who you are, your face and every feature obscured by the oppressive black encapsulation of the laminate locked upon your body. <<if $Gender is 1>>It frames your broad shoulders and tight waist, the stiletto boots upon your feet forcing you onto your toes, and thus showing you off even further. The mask locked upon your head regulates your every breath, while between your legs the strange inflated bulge that covered your manhood still displays its bright lock-symbol. How could you //ever// face the Ambassador, or anyone else, like this? <<elseif $Gender is 2>>It frames your sloping shoulders and tightly corseted waist, the stiletto boots upon your feet forcing you onto your toes, amplifying everything further. The mask locked upon your head regulates your every breath, while the barest of movements shifts the intruders lodged between your legs.<</if>><</if>> <</nobr>> <<if $Arou gt 80>>Everything you've seen and done has left you incredibly aroused-- its hard to focus.<<elseif $Arou gt 50>>Having sampled some of Torei's delights, you find yourself somewhat aroused, a rather embarrassing prospect.<<else>>At least you still have your wits about you.<</if>> Nearest to you, a chair is pulled out slightly. Sitting there and waiting for your meeting would always be an option. But the door leading out into the rest of the embassy is nearby too, unlocked and unguarded... [[Take a seat, and wait.->WaitChair]] [[Leave the room-- explore!->EnterHallWay]]

<<if $Gear gt 2 or $Timer gt 7>>Moving to sit upon the chair you had been instructed to wait in, you reflect for a moment on the fact that you've already spent significant time outside of this conference room. Whatever came to pass, you have to imagine that you've burned up a significant amount of your time spent unsupervised already. If you really want to wait for the Ambassador now, it should at least not take her that long to come to you. <<set $FastTime to true>><<set $ChairWait to 0>> [[Take your seat.->WaitFast]]<<else>>Moving to sit upon the chair you had been instructed to wait in, you settle in quickly. [[Comfy.->WaitSlow]]<</if>>

Leaving the conference room, you step out in the hallway, <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>after a quick glance around the corner of the door to ensure you're alone.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>after smoothing a wrinkle in your skirt, and unsuccessfully trying to step in a way that didn't hurt your toes in these shoes.<<elseif $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>taking a deep breath that through the filters of your mask. Looking out through your mask, you cannot help but imagine the reaction of someone finding you like this. It kind of excites you.<</if>> <<set $Timer += 1>> [[All clear.->HallwayHub]]

<<set $Gender to 2>> <<set $Gear to 3>> <<set $MetMarina to false>> [[ConfRoom]]

<<if $Timer gt 7 and $MetMarina is false>>As you emerge back into the first floor hallway, you hear something unfamiliar-- a distinct clicking, drawing closer. Pausing, wondering at it, <<if $Gear gt 2>>you look down-- and realize the stiletto heeled boots you are wearing made a similar sound. Someone is approaching!<<else>>you realize where you had heard it before: from Jacq, walking upon those absurd heels of his. Someone must be coming!<</if>> [[Hide!->MarinaEvent]]<<else>>Standing just outside the doorway that led back into the conference room where you were //supposed// to be staying, you find yourself in a corner of sorts, formed by the hallway ending to your right. Directly before you is the glass door through which you can see stairs leading up to the restricted second floor, currently secured by the ruby red lock panel preventing access. To your left, back the way you originally came with Jacq, are four different doors-- each labeled with a handy sign, that you can read even from here. //Aromatic Demo//, //Wardrobe Device//, //Storage//, and //Networking//. A fifth door is visible after a gap, the space being the way back to the reception area. Returning there unescorted would //probably// be received poorly. As for the fifth door, it is labeled //Wing B//, but is locked with a red indicator upon its control panel. [[Reenter the Conference Room->ReturnConference]] [[Approach the door to the 2nd floor.->2ndFloorDoor]] [[Approach the door labeled Aromatic Demo.->Aromatic]] [[Approach the door labeled Wardrobe Device.->Wardrobe]] [[Approach the door labeled Storage.->Storage]] [[Approach the door labeled Networking.->Networking]] <<if $MetMarina is false>>[[Approach the 5th door, furthest down the hall.->5thDoor]]<<else>>[[Head the way you saw that woman go, Marina.->GotoMarina]]<</if>> <<if $Gear gt 2 or $Timer gt 7>>[[Look for a way to escape the Embassy!->EscapeBot]]<</if>><</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'marina.png']] Diving back the way you came, you manage to shelter in the doorway just as a woman passes by, perched atop heels that snap against the stone-like floor. Of course her shoes, stilettos that they are, could arguably be called the //least// eye-catching portion of her uniform. It is laminate, like so much else in this Embassy, a semi professional look that casts aside anything like dignity by making the blouse semi-transparent. You can see her expansive chest move as she walks, each step kept tightly corralled by silvery skirt that hugs her hips. She's //gorgeous//, and so... full. In hips and chest, and her hands, which is currently balancing several boxes rather precariously. <<if $Marina gt 0>>You've seen her before! Not in person, of course, but on that computer-- you had been using her still open profile to explore it! Her name... yes, you remember it, was //Marina.//<<else>>You have never met before, but as you try not to ogle her chest you notice a nametag affixed just above. It spells out //Marina//.<</if>> She doesn't seem to notice you at all, focused as she is upon maintaining the stack of boxes in her hands-- an effort that fails <<if $Marina is 0 or $Marina is 1>>when gravity inevitably takes its toll.<</if>><<if $Marina is 2 or $Marina is 3>>she suddenly jerks upright.<</if>> <<if $Marina is 0 or $Marina is 1>>The topmost box slides off to clatter upon the ground, the woman pausing with a frustrated exhale. "Oh kamn, if anything broke Mistress is going to... gah. I'm going to get in trouble... //again//. Come on, focus, Marina."<<elseif $Marina is 2>>"Oh not agaaaaain~" Its the most sultry complaint you've ever heard, delivered even as the topmost box clatters to the floor. Marina remains standing, her knees turning inward as *something* seems to pass through her. She shivers, then moans wetly, to the point you almost expect her to climax in front of you, without any apparent source of stimulation. But she works through it, even if afterward she is left panting softly. "I don't remember Mistress //saying// she would edge me all day... not fair!"<<elseif $Marina is 3>>"Oh not again!" She seems to brace in response to an unseen force, the topmost box she carried clattering to the floor as a result. Moments later she grunts, somewhat wetly, then spreads her legs as far as her skirt would allow. She holds the posture until whatever had overtaken her retreats, leaving her panting, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. "I don't remember Mistress *saying* she would be using compliance mode all day... not fair!"<</if>> <<if $Marina gt 1>>But you do. That button you had pushed on her computer profile, was //this// the result?<</if>> Bending over, Marina collects the fallen box, her heels and skirt treating you to a full view of her rear as she does so. Returned to its place atop the pile, she carries on, approaching the door furthest from the corner conference room in which you had been originally deposited. Leaning over once more, she activates the keypad there somehow, passing through, but //this// time the doorway stays open. <<set $MetMarina to true>> [[Something to explore, perhaps? For now, you step back out into the hallway.->HallwayHub]]

<<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>Turning away from the wonders possible throughout the rest of the embassy, you step back into the conference room, where you were //supposed// to be waiting all along.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>Stepping primly, your skirt restricting each step, you turn away from the wonders of the embassy, returning to the conference room where you were //supposed// to be waiting all along.<<elseif $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>Trying, and failing, to ignore the shifting of the plug buried in your rear, you step back into the conference room, where you were //supposed// to be waiting all along.<</if>> It is as you remember it-- empty and rather boring. <<set $Timer += 1>> [[But it is safe.->ConfRoom]]

The glass door is sealed shut, the staircase behind it leading up to the Embassy's more restricted second floor. Just what would they //not// be willing to show the average visitor, if they dressed their guards in laminate, and chained their receptionist to her desk? Finding out would require an embassy keycard, to operate the panel located just to the side of the door. <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>Luckily, you have one.<<else>>Perhaps there was one around here, on the first floor? A bit of a long shot, of course, but... still.<</if>> [[For now, step back.->HallwayHub]] <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>[[Swipe your card, and ascend.->GoUpstairs]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'aroplant.png']] Just what exactly an //Aromatic Demo// involved is revealed as you slip inside the appropriately labeled door. You enter into a conference room much like the one you had been told to remain in, the chairs and table looking identical. The only difference is situated atop the very center of that table: a small plant, its black growths emerging from a small planter filled with rocks instead of any sort of soil. From what you've heard of Torei, you know that it is particularly dry-- perhaps this plant originated from the planet? A set of pamphlets are situated nearby, but its the *scent* of the plant itself that draws you in. <<if $PlantSmell is 0 and $Arou lt 25>>Slightly sweet without being cloying, it smells like... you can almost place it, but not quite. Perhaps if you got closer, really smelled it. Clearly it wasn't //dangerous//, or else it would not have been left out so openly. Right? [[Read the pamphlet.->ReadPamph]] [[Lean in, inhale that sweet scent...->SmellPlant]] <<if $Back is 3 and $Gear lt 3>>[[(Scholar) Use your ocular library, see if it has any further information.->ScanPlant]]<</if>> [[Turn back, and leave.->HallwayHub]]<<elseif $PlantSmell is 0 and $Arou gt 24>>Slightly sweet without being cloying, it smells like... you can almost place it, but not quite. You... want to smell it. You're a bit @@color:yellow;aroused@@, and that pushes you forward, towards the strange plant. Clearly it wasn't //dangerous//, if they left it out like that. And you //know// that smell, if you would just get close enough to confirm... @@color:yellow;You are too aroused to want to read that pamphlet.@@ [[Lean in, inhale that sweet scent...->SmellPlant]] [[Turn back, and leave.->PlantBack]]<<else>><<if $Arou gt 74>>You know that smell, now. Undoubtedly. The plant's scent is of ''desire'', of every sort and shape, so many of them forbidden. Thoughts as black and wonderful as those small rounded petals momentarily flood your mind, just as a deep flush of arrival runs through <<if $Gender is 1>>your manhood.<<else>>your pussy.<</if>><<elseif $Arou gt 49>>It is so close now! The secret of that scent! Maddeningly so! Perhaps just another whiff? Then you could place it, and move on. Perhaps it would even help the way your <<if $Gender is 1>>manhood presses hard down below.<<else>>your womanhood's sudden wetness.<</if>> You're thinking straight, right?<<else>>Curiosity tickles at the back of your mind, as well as some other sensation you cannot exactly place... <</if>> @@color:yellow;You are too aroused to want to read that pamphlet.@@ [[Lean in, inhale that sweet scent...->SmellPlant]] [[Turn back, and leave.->PlantBack]] <</if>>

Stepping through the door marked *Wardrobe Device*, you find neither a wardrobe stocked with clothes, nor a device of any measure. Instead you find a conference room much like the one you left previously, although only the walls are the same in this instance. Everything else, the table, the chairs, the vid-frames on the walls, have been removed-- and replaced with three giant cylindrical... things. White in color, thrice as wide as you can stretch your arms, they give no further indication of their usage. Each does have a door however, currently sealed, and a control panel. Approaching the latter, if activates at your touch. <div class="comp">Identification Chip not found. Please present eye for ocular scan.</div> <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>Just what could that mean?<<else>>You've been inside a wardrobe before, and know what that meant-- but you could always humor the machine, see if any other options present themselves.<</if>> [[Lean down, and look into the small scanner.->EyeScan]] [[Back out, and leave the room.->HallwayHub]]

Opening the door marked //Storage// reveals... a cabinet dedicated to storage. //Of course.// A small uncluttered area exists, allowing you to step into the room, closing the door behind you, but otherwise the room is filed with a large shelf stuffed with all sorts of things. At a glance, some are cleaning supplies, but several others stick out as perhaps worthy of investigation-- if you wanted to dedicate the time. A smaller set of shelves in the corner is occupied by a case of some sort, currently closed. <<if $ComputerOn is true>> The panel you had opened to the networking relay remains open, the indicator lights once more flashing brightly with renewed traffic.<</if>> [[Search the shelves.->StorageShelf]] [[Examine the case.->StorageCase]] <<if $Back is 1 and $UnlockNet is false>>[[(Pilot) Check this room more carefully, you have a hunch...->PilotSearchNet]]<<elseif $UnlockNet is true>>[[Search for that networking access the computer had mentioned.->SearchNet]]<</if>> [[Leave the storage room.->HallwayHub]]

The //Networking//* room is revealed to be about the size of the other conference rooms on this level, although instead of the large central table you've witnessed before, this one features several banks of computing stations, set in groups of three across a number of individual stations. This had to be used for presentations from Embassy staff, you presume, or perhaps for registering visitors, several at a time? Either way, you do note that the computers themselves look rather strange-- even by the standards of a Rim station they look ancient, although they don't bear any marks of having aged. Its almost like, on Torei, these sorts of devices were still be produced. <<if $Back is 3>>That makes sense with your scholarly knowledge of Torei. In your limited exploration of their technology, in preparation for your interview with the Ambassador, you found references to communication gear in particular being far behind the galactic standard. Foreign trade was helping to alleviate that a bit, but the planet's culture made adoption slow.<<else>>Another Torean oddity to file away.<</if>> Only one of the computers is turned on, the sallow glow of its display reflecting <<if $Gear gt 2>>off the laminate you now wear.<<else>>the nearby wall, located on an end desk as it is.<</if>> The only other item of note inside the room is a vending machine, located along the rear wall, nearest the door you had just entered. [[Approach the computer.->ComputerEmb]] [[Approach the vending machine.->VendEmb]] [[Leave the room.->HallwayHub]]

Approaching this last door is harder than the others, given that it is just past the turn-off that led back to the reception area. Anyone particularly observant, either in the waiting area or the chained receptionist herself, could glimpse you crossing the point where hallways meet. Peeking around the edge, however, you find the waiting room to be empty, and the receptionist turned away, typing into her terminal. This is your chance-- and you take it. <<if $Gear gt 2>>The hard floor makes moving silently with your new heels nearly impossible however, and in the end you sacrifice anything like stealth for speed. Every step seems to echo with a sharp snap, but once across to the other side, after counting to ten, you peek around again-- and find the receptionist still working diligently. Whew.<<else>>The hard floor would have made many sorts of footwear hard to sneak along, but your rubber-soled space boots are just perfect for this sort of thing. All but tip-toeing across the space, the receptionist never even glances up.<</if>> Unfortunately the effort certainly isn't worth it. The door is not only locked, as you glimpsed previously, but requires "Level 3 Authorization", <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>apparently being a step higher than the keycard in your possession.<<else>>Whatever that means.<</if>> So you retreat just as quickly as you approached, heading back into the more secluded portion of the first floor hallway... You do at least notice the ''EXIT'' sign as you turn around, indicating at least one other path existed out of this Embassy. [[Head back.->HallwayHub]]

Approaching the door through which you saw Marina pass is harder than the others, given that it is just past the turn-off that led back to the reception area. Anyone particularly observant, either in the waiting area or the chained receptionist herself, could glimpse you crossing the point where hallways meet. Peeking around the edge, however, you find the waiting room to be empty, and the receptionist turned away, typing into her terminal. This is your chance-- and you take it. <<if $Gear gt 2>>The hard floor makes moving silently with your new heels nearly impossible however, and in the end you sacrifice anything like stealth for speed. Every step seems to echo with a sharp snap, but once across to the other side, after counting to ten, you peek around again-- and find the receptionist still working diligently. Whew.<<else>>The hard floor would have made many sorts of footwear hard to sneak along, but your rubber-soled space boots are just perfect for this sort of thing. All but tip-toeing across the space, the receptionist never even glances up.<</if>> You're rewarded with a door previously closed now standing opening, leading into another wing of the Embassy much like the one you had just left. Each room here is locked however, excluding the one at the very end, heavy and thick looking, and another about halfway down. //That// one is marked by a laminate-covered rear sticking out, its owner-- undoubtedly Marina-- bent over and audibly rummaging. [[Well, what are you going to do?->SmallWingHub]]

Returning to the conference room in which you had been left looks less and less like a good idea to you. <<if $Gear gt 2>>You have yet to find the means of escaping the laminate uniform you had found yourself in, and there would be no logical way to explain that to the Ambassador.<<else>>You have not stumbled into laminate yet, but you get the sense that the possibility of doing so increased with every step you took.<</if>> And, of course, after all that you have seen here... the Ambassador could not be trusted, the reason for your being summoned here clearly an excuse for... well, you're not sure. <<if $Back is 1>>But a pilot learned to trust their gut.<<elseif $Back is 2>>But a reporter knew when to trust a hunch.<<else>>But a scholar could read between the lines here.<</if>> It is time to go. But how? Stationed as you are where hallways intersected, one leading back towards the conference room and the other a straight shot to the lobby, you consider your choices. The obvious answer would be to make a break for it through the front door, the same way you had came in. But that would mean passing the Receptionist, anyone in the lobby, and most dangerously the pair of guards stationed just outside the Embassy doors. But if you got that far... you would be outside. In public. Certainly they wouldn't take any action against you while so clearly observable, right? Otherwise... there is the door you had seen Marina pass through, the one now unlocked, and helpfully labeled with an //EMERGENCY EXIT// sign. You know for certain that the slave is somewhere down that way, but otherwise the path is far less defined. Where did the emergency exit lead to? Would it be guarded? You doubt it. From your walk to the Embassy you don't remember any opportunity for an easily accessible exit besides the front, so perhaps it was hidden, or out of the way. It could be safer. Either way, speed would be important. Once you started, there would be //no turning back.// [[Make a break for the front door!->EscapeFront]] [[Find that Emergency Exit!->EmergencyExit]] [[Actually... step back and think about this more.->HallwayHub]]

''The Badlands Siren'', is boldly declared upon the front page of the pamphlet as you pick it up, with a picture of a plant growth much like the one before you-- but on a far larger scale, the black fronds climbing halfway up a sunbaked cliff. Its a striking image, and nearly as strange as the pamphlet itself, which is not printed on paper-- but a thin, stiff, glossy material. It almost looks like... //laminate.// Flipping open to the middle portion, you skim until reaching something interesting: //Cultivated in many Ringdoms across Torei, the Badlands Siren gets its name from natural growths found within the middling and polar regions of Torei's extensive Badlands. While small samples such as the one before you can fill a room with its pheromones, massive colonies in the Badlands are known to draw travelers in, despite their often dangerous locations along cliffsides. Nevertheless, farm-raised Siren has a litany of unexplored uses, and select quantities are available for purchase if you are interested.// Strangely, besides acknowledging the use of pheromones, the pamphlet doesn't actually explain that strange smell. Was it an actual scent, or all in your head? Maybe another sniff would tell. It //does// however have a warning bolded at the bottom: //Excess exposure is not recommended.// [[Set the pamphlet down.->Aromatic]]

<<set $Timer += 1>><<set $PlantSmell += 1>><<if $PlantSmell is 1>>Leaning over the conference table, you take a deep breath above the small plant. <<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>Your mask may regulate your breathing, but it doesn't scrub what //does// make it inside, as you can soon tell.<</if>> It fills your nose, then runs downward, settling deep into your chest with a strangely warm sensation. As if you were standing somewhere windswept and barren, sunblasted yet... wonderful? <<set $Arou += 25>>@@.addarou;+25 Arousal!@@ It hits you then, the warm sensation running down from your chest, finding the space between your legs. <<if $Gender is 1>>Your cock responds enthusiastically, straining against your <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>jumpsuit.<<else>>laminate.<</if>><<else>>Your womanhood responds enthusiastically, a subtle dampness forming amongst your <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>jumpsuit.<<else>>laminate.<</if>><</if>> You moan suddenly, <<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>into your gag, <</if>>bending over the table as your whole body flushes momentarily. That //scent!// It smelled like, like... ah! You still cannot place it! But you want to, don't you? If you tried again, if you took another sniff, you're //sure// you would manage it. [[You step back from the plant.->Aromatic]]<</if>><<if $PlantSmell is 2>><<set $Arou += 25>>@@.addarou;+25 Arousal!@@ Another deep inhalation, another warm run down into your body, another spike in your growing arousal. It feels so //good//. Leaning back against the table, you idly press your hand against your <<if $Gear lt 5>><<if $Gender is 1>>strained manhood<<else>>wet pussy<</if>>, rubbing through the <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>material of your jumpsuit<<else>>laminate of your skirt.<</if>> <<if $Balled is false>>Mhmm...<<else>>Your mitten covered hands prevent you from achieving much, but<</if>> the temptation to linger longer is certainly there. To press your nose against that strange plant, to revel in that heady burn as its scent filled your body...<<else>><<if $Gender is 1>>sealed bulge, only to find the experience far less rewarding than you may have hoped. The inflated laminate that encapsulated your cock prevents anything like stroking, at best you get the barest sense of pressure, and that only frustrates you further!<<else>>plugged cunt only to find the experience far less rewarding than you may have hoped. The thick laminate between your legs prevents anything like stroking your labia, at best you get the barest sense of pressure, and that only frustrates you further!<</if>> And yet... //still// you're tempted by the plant, by that scent. The temptation to linger longer is certainly there. To press your nose against that strange plant, to revel in that heady burn as its scent filled your body...<</if>> [[But for now, you step back from the plant.->Aromatic]]<</if>><<if $PlantSmell gt 2>>You don't even bother with anything like moderation now, you know what you're doing, even if you won't admit it to yourself-- breathing in deep<<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>through your mask<</if>>, you moan lewdly, thrusting your hips up against the table. The pleasure, pure and unfiltered, pours into your mind just as you expected it to. Your every synapse dances to its tune, as your most sensual points tingle wildly. <<set $Arou += 25>>@@.addarou;+25 Arousal!@@ <<if $Gear lt 5>>Seating yourself upon the table, you lean back, and <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>unzip your jumpsuit.<<else>>hike up your skirt.<</if>> Exposing yourself with wild abandon, you <<if $Balled is true>>PUT BALLED DESCRIPT HERE<<else>><<if $Gender is 1>>seize your cock<<else>>press your fingers into your pussy<</if>><</if>>, and let the pheromones in the air guide you. To call it overwhelming would be to do it an injustice-- the experience is //fulfilling//, in a manner your addled mind struggles to understand. You simply follow the sensations, moaning openly as you climb that eternal peak towards satiation. In that moment the fact that anyone could walk in only excites you further, a realization that //also// serves to excite. Only as that last whiff of the plant begins to fade does something like rationality begin to assert itself, but your climax is so close... can you make it? <<if $Arou lt 100 or $Balled is true>>[[(Not Aroused Enough) No...->FixSelf]]<<else>>[[(Arousal Peak!) Yes!->FixSelf]]<</if>><</if>><<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>Seating yourself on the table, you lean back, and //try// to ride where the pheromones in the air guide. You can feel them lingering in your mask, the restricted airflow recycling some of what you inhaled each time, but that only proves more maddening-- as your <<if $Gender is 1>>null bulge<<else>>sealed cunt<</if>> prevents you from furthering the pleasure. You want it, you //need// it... the #15 across your back shifts as you shoulders move, your laminate-coated fingers pressing between your legs... and yet... nothing! Damn this suit! If you weren't locked in, if you could just touch yourself... you're sure you could manage an orgasm. But you can't! No matter how aroused you get, no matter how wearing this suit teased and pushed you, a climax remains just out of reach! Biting hard into the cock lodged between your teeth, you cry out for release... <<set $PlantCum to 99>> ...until the pheromones slowly start to fade, and something like a rational sense of your situation reasserts itself. Grudgingly you slide off the table, each heavy panting breath audible in your mask, as you try to ignore the sensation of so sweat building within your suit. [[You stand, wildly horny, yet incapable of satisfying yourself...->Aromatic]]<</if>><</if>>

Activating your ocular library, you take a quick scan of the plant. The results are unsurprisingly sparse, unfortunately. The device was limited by local network databases and the prevalence of that which you scanned: and this plant in particular comes up as unidentified. It was emitting some sort of chemical agent, that much is clear. A pheromone, your library suggests. But otherwise it can only postulate as to use, origin, and expected environment. By reading //between// the lines, however, you get something like a better picture. This plant was clearly Torean in origin, considering where you are and the lack of information-- if it came from the station or a planet in this sector, your library probably would haven known it. A Torean origin also matched with the plant's clearly low-moisture characteristics. [[Interesting.->Aromatic]]

Moving back towards the door, your hand upon the handle, you glance back once more at the room and the strange little plant. <<if $Arou lt 51 and $PlantSmell gt 2>>It does not hold as much sway over you, after the climax you were able to achieve. Still, the fact that you had done such a thing in such a public, unfamiliar place does flush your cheeks a bright red. Thankfully no one had seen you in the act...<<elseif $Arou lt 51>>It does not hold much sway over you, your arousal low enough that even lingering traces of its scent upon the air fail to draw you back in.<<elseif $Gear lt 5>>Your hand upon the door tightens, lingering traces of its scent reaching your nose, that familiar burn slowly building in your chest. Quickly, desperately, you wrench away, unwilling to trust yourself further.<<else>>The frustration between your legs burns unaddressed, the component of your suit denying the direct stimulation you so desired quickly earning a hateful reputation in your mind. <<if $Gender is 1>>Certainly this... this null bulge had to be some sort of sick joke, a punishment weaponizing sexuality. Even now you rub at it, achieving precious little beyond that slight pressure that only enflames you further. Deep beneath the laminate and compressed air your manhood stirs, throbbing and eager, unfulfilled.<<else>>Certainly these sealed plugs had to be some sort of sick joke, a punishment weaponizing sexuality. Even now you rub at that smooth curve of black laminate between your legs, achieving precious little beyond that slight sensation of movement from the plugs buried beneath. Your cunt aches in response, incredibly wet yet so unfulfilled.<</if>><</if>> <<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>[[You moan into your gag, and step back out into the hall.->HallwayHub]]<<else>>[[You step back out into the hall.->HallwayHub]]<</if>>

<<set $PlantSmell to 0>> <<set $Arou to 10>> <<set $ShowArousal to true>> [[Aromatic]]

<<if $Arou gt 99>>Leaning back fully upon the table, your $Hair colored hair splayed out around your head, you spread your legs, arch your back, and moan wildly as your body rips through an orgasm. You've never experienced something like this, something so visceral, <<if $Gear gt 2>>and doing so in a full laminate uniform only furthers the experience. It amplifies your every sensitive nerve ending, embracing and yet restraining you, the sensation so wickedly sweet.<<else>>even the rather ungainly material of your jumpsuit cannot stop you from writhing in pleasure.<</if>> <<if $Gender is 1>>Working your throbbing cock, you're finally rewarded with a last rush as your thick seed spills forth upon both yourself and the table.<<elseif $Gender is 2>>Fingering your eager clit, your other hand playing with your breasts, you're finally rewarded with a last surge of sensation as you orgasm.<</if>> Moaning, you keep at it through the first waves past the crescendo, collapsing into a tired mass as the afterglow finally rolls through you. <<set $Arou to 0>>@@.minarou;All Arousal Lost!@@ <<set $PlantCum += 1>> With that return of rationality comes fresh eyes upon your situation, the scene you would present to any onlooker extremely embarrassing: <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>your jumpsuit pulled open to reveal yourself, fluids staining it and the table, your heels hooked onto the tables edge sometime during the entire experience.<<elseif $Gear is 3>>Dressed in this absurd laminate material, heels high enough for a club hooked over the edge of the table, your skirt pulled up to expose your panty-less womanhood, slick with spent desire.<<elseif $Gear is 4>>Dressed in this absurd laminate uniform, one that made you look so feminine with the makeup that had been applied, heels high enough for any stripper hooked over the edge of the table, your skirt pulled up to expose your now flaccid manhood, still dripping with your own cum.<</if>> Quickly you stagger back onto your feet, and try to clean yourself up. That proves easier than you had expected, as a set of towels and a cleaning agent are helpfully provided on a small rolling cart near the door. <<if $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>Even your laminate proves easy to clean, your fluids wiping off with ease. <</if>>Its almost as if... the Embassy expected something like this to happen? Whatever the case may be, having thrown away the excess towels, you try to collect yourself-- and to stay away from the plant. Indulging in it again would only repeat what had just occurred, you presume.<<else>>With a final frustrated grunt, you cease your fruitless masturbating. Your wrist is tired, your arm feeling as if you just spent a good session at the gym. Rolling off the table, you collect yourself, returning your outfit to something like presentable. Yet even as you do, you cannot help but look at the plant nearby, its blackened petals suddenly so... appealing. It takes a great deal of effort to pull yourself away, yet even as you do you cannot help but wonder just what would occur if you indulged in that small plant again...<</if>> [[You take a deep breath.->Aromatic]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'eyescan.gif']] <div class="comp">Scanning...</div> <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>><div class="compred">SEARCH FAILURE</div> <div class="comp">Tertiary check: no identifiable laminate detected. This Wardrobe will now default to: "//last validated job instance.//" This access attempt has been logged. Opening door...</div> [[As promised, the door slides open...->JumpWard]]<</if>><<if $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>><div class="compred">SEARCH FAILURE</div> <div class="comp">Tertiary check: SUCCESS!</div> <div class="comp">Secretarial Duty Uniform detected. Slave Restraints detected. Welcome, #unregistered slave#. As per house Sargon contractual requirements placed upon you, this Wardrobe's functionality has been limited to your assigned uniform. As you are already wearing your current uniform, access to the Wardrobe is hereby denied. If you need repair work, or a freshening of your makeup, please attain permission from your Governess, Mistress, or other assigned Overseer. Remember to maintain proper posture, and have a good day. This access attempt has been logged.</div> [[And with that, it logs you out.->Logged out.]]<</if>><<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>><div class="compred">SEARCH FAILURE</div> <div class="comp">Tertiary check: SUCCESS! Heavy Restraint, Long-Term Reprogramming Uniform detected. Slave restraints detected. Welcome, #15. Your absence from your restraint rig is forbidden. Please report to Control Suite #2, where you will be reinstalled. Removal of your uniform is strictly forbidden, access to the Wardrobe is hereby denied. This access attempt has been logged.</div> [[And with that, it logs you out.->Logged out.]]<</if>>

A hiss and bright light announce the door sliding open, revealing... a rather disappointing space within. Whatever you had expected, the reality is a barren cell, the walls and floors equally tiled with white panels cut into shapes both uniform and occasionally strange. Altogether it furthers the slightly sterile sensation you've felt to much of this Embassy, with this "Wardrobe" looking like little more than a particularly expensive shower. At your side, however, the small control panel blinks impatiently. <div class="comp">Please Enter</div> <<set $Strike to 0>> [[Well... let's see where this goes. Step inside.->JumpWard2]] [[Nope. Back out of this room entirely.->HallwayHub]]

Well... //*hells//. You had not expected a machine like this to be intelligent enough to recognize what you were trying to do. Nudity would have been better than this! As it stands, you're stuck in the outfit you're currently in, unless you could find some other means of escape. The Embassy seemed big enough, there has to be another opportunity, right? Otherwise... you would either have to face the Ambassador like this, or attempt to flee. Neither are particularly compelling, but then again, it //was// your decision to go exploring. [[Now you're living with the consequences.->Wardrobe]]

The moment you step inside, the door closes behind you with a heavy //thunk//. It is followed almost immediately by a mechanical purr, the sound of something heavy waking behind the largest of the irregular panels, directly at head level. Shaped into a three inch tall band that circled the interior of the strange room, you're staring at it so keenly you don't even see that which grabs your ankles emerge-- until the sensation of something snapping on down there drawing your gaze downward. Two metallic arms are extended from panels shifted aside, each tipped with a glossy looking cuff that had just been placed around your ankles. With a yank they force your legs wide, and even begin lifting-- you're quickly about to lose your footing! <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>><<set $Strike to 1>><</if>><<if $Pock.includes('Box Key')>><<set $Strike to 2>><</if>><<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard') and $Pock.includes('Box Key')>><<set $Strike to 3>><</if>> [[Reaching down and pry them off!->PryArms]] [[Turn towards the door, get out of here!->LeaveWard]] [[Stand still.->StillWard]]

Bending over, you seize the two arms, and try to pry them from your legs. Unfortunately they're linked securely to the cuffs now encircling your ankles, and being formed from metal as they are, the arms themselves have little give. Instead of freedom, you're rewarded another set suddenly emerging from above, this time linking around your wrists. <div class="compred">Resistant Slave Detected. Compliance Measures Initiated.</div> The synthetic sounding voice comes from the machine itself, which promptly makes good on its promise, fully lifting you from the floor as the restraints on your arms draw you back up to a standing position-- and then beyond. You're stretched out spread eagle, your limbs pulled until your muscles start to protest, as all around you a dozen more armatures emerge from different panels. The largest, which you heard previously, proves to be a large halo of sorts, wide enough to encircle you completely. Just what have you gotten yourself into? "[[Let me go!->JumpWard3]]" "[[Help! Anyone!->JumpWard3]]" [[Remain silent.->JumpWard3]]

Twisting as best you can with your ankles secured and pulled apart, your hands find the closed door through which you had entered, fingernails scrabbling for the seam. The interior surface is slick however, your grasping achieving little until the lifting of your ankles sees you tumble over-- or nearly so. A second pair of armatures arrive just in time to seize your wrists, securing a further set of cuffs there, which they use to straighten and stand you up. <div class="compred">Resistant Slave Detected. Compliance Measures Initiated.</div> The synthetic sounding voice comes from the machine itself, which promptly makes good on its promise, fully lifting you from the floor as the restraints on your arms draw you back up to a standing position-- and then beyond. You're stretched out spread eagle, your limbs pulled until your muscles start to protest, as all around you a dozen more armatures emerge from different panels. The largest, which you heard previously, proves to be a large halo of sorts, wide enough to encircle you completely. Just what have you gotten yourself into? "[[Let me go!->JumpWard3]]" "[[Help! Anyone!->JumpWard3]]" [[Remain silent.->JumpWard3]]

Frightening into immobility, or perhaps strangely intrigued, you merely watch as the mechanical arms secured to your ankles force them further apart, and up. Just as you're about to fall, however, a second pair of armatures arrive just in time to seize your wrists, securing a further set of cuffs there, which they use to straighten and stand you up. <div class="comp">Compliant Slave Detected. <<if $Gender is 1>>Good Boy.<<else>>Good Girl.<</if>></div> The synthetic sounding voice comes from the machine itself, which promptly makes good on its promise, fully lifting you from the floor as the restraints on your arms draw you back up to a standing position-- and then beyond. You're stretched out spread eagle, your limbs pulled until your muscles start to protest, as all around you a dozen more armatures emerge from different panels. The largest, which you heard previously, proves to be a large halo of sorts, wide enough to encircle you completely. Just what have you gotten yourself into? "[[Let me go!->JumpWard3]]" "[[Help! Anyone!->JumpWard3]]" [[Remain silent.->JumpWard3]]

The Wardrobe continues onward, utterly oblivious to you now that you are fully restrained. The various armatures surrounding you move in, picking at your jumpsuit, scanning it in some places, even entering your pockets. Its strange, being touched by so many independent things at once, their search of your body entirely thorough. One by one they pull your items from your pockets, disappearing with everything, including your ID Chit, into opened panels. <<if $Back is 2 or $Back is 3>><div class="comp">Notice: some of the items in your possession are recognized as necessary for your service, and are thus being detained. Remember that slaves are not allowed personal effects without permission of their owners, and that this event has been logged. Your remaining item(s) will be returned at procedure completion.</div> <<set $Pock to []>> @@.minbox;Pockets Emptied!@@<</if>><<if $Back is 1>><div class="comp">Notice: one of the items in your possession are recognized as high priority, and is thus exempt from detainment. Remember that slaves are not allowed personal effects without permission of their owners, and that this event has been logged. Your remaining item(s) will be returned at procedure completion.</div> <<set $Pock to []>> @@.minbox;Pockets Emptied!@@<</if>> @@.minbox;ID Chit Lost, Access to Credit Account Lost!@@ <<set $Debt to 0>> Your stuff! <<if $Back is 1>>Did it mean your ID Chit, or the Box would be returned? You didn't come all this way just to have some stupid machine seize your package like that! And how would you explain that it was in here, of all places, when you //did// meet the ambassador?]<<elseif $Back is 2>>Your interview recorder alone was essential to your work in general, much less the interview you were still scheduled to hold with the ambassador! You did not come all this way just to lose it now, and besides, how could you ever explain it being found in a machine such as this?<<elseif $Back is 3>>Your ocular library! It stored little in personal data, but such devices were quite expensive, and besides-- how could you ever explain it being found within the bowels of this strange machine?<</if>> You would have to get back whatever the Wardrobe did not return-- but such concerns quickly pale beside the machine's voiced intentions that follow. <div class="comp">Personal Effects Secured. Beginning De-Clothing.</div> [[Beginning what???->JumpWard4]]

The gentle mechanic purr turns suddenly violent, as small cutting surfaces emerge on fresh armatures, a dozen or so pressing into your restrained form. They do not seek your flesh however, and indeed take every precaution to avoid it-- but your jumpsuit is not spared. It falls off you in pieces, raining down until enough had been cut away for the remnants to slip off altogether. As further arms scoop up the ripped material, the cutting blades move to your underwear, slicing through <<if $Gender is 1>>your briefs<<else>>your bra and panties<</if>> in short order. You are left, rather suddenly, in a state of complete nudity. @@.minbox;Jumpsuit and Boots Removed!@@ <div class="comp">De-clothing Complete. Beginning Outfit Construction, Schematic: Secretarial Duty uniform"</div> <<set $Inv to []>><<set $Gear to 0>><<run $Inv.delete("Spacer Boots")>> Its something of a fight to keep your eyes open as the process continues, your nude form briefly sprayed down with a mist that dries away-- cleaning-- before the large halo-like armature descends all around you. From it a whole new series of smaller arms emerge, small nozzle-like tips twitching with expectation as the Wardrobe begins to quite literally print your new outfit onto you. Any hope for underwear is lost as soon as it starts at your throat, forming a perky red collar that continues down into a shirt. Unlike your jumpsuit, and pretty much every other outfit you've ever worn, this one is not formed from textiles, however-- it is //laminate//, in all its glossy, gleaming glory. Running downward, printing and flash-forming with an honestly impressive accuracy, it forms sleeves of a slightly loser design, while that material across your chest is quite tight. <<if $Gender is 1>>You were never particularly muscular, but your pectorals stand out rather prominently beneath the red material. Looking down as best you can, you find the design looking a little feminine-- a trait that is suddenly amplified once the nozzles reach your waist. There they flip closed, then reemerge with a new color: black, which begins printing down your legs. You've always shaved them, but never with the intention of wearing what emerges now: a //skirt//. You're not well-versed in the terminology, but this one is tight, hugging your hips until a point just above your knees, where pleats form to add a little frilled design. This... this was not a masculine design. Indeed, you realize in that moment where you're seen it before: the receptionist, chained to her desk, had been wearing an outfit much like this one!<<else>>It nevertheless frames your breasts perfectly, lifting and supporting despite the lack of a bra. As the nozzles reach your waist they suddenly flip closed, only to reemerge with a new color loaded: black, which begins printing down your legs. In place of your simple, utilitarian jumpsuit you're given a skirt as tight as it is glossy, hugging your hips until a point just above your knees, where pleats form to add a little frilled design. You've never worn *anything* this flirty before, but you have seen it, and recently-- the receptionist, chained to her desk, had been wearing a uniform entirely similar to this!<</if>> [[Oh no.->Jumpward5]]

<<if $Gender is 2>>@@.addbox;Receptionist Duty Uniform Equipped.@@ <<set $Gear to 3>><</if>><<if $Gender is 1>>@@.addbox;Receptionist Duty Uniform, Modified Equipped.@@<<set $Gear to 4>><</if>> Well, your outfit is not //completely// similar to the receptionist's... but the Wardrobe isn't done. Having completed your skirt, it now moves back upward, to a point just below your chest. There it starts printing again, but this time in a thicker variation of black. Several new arms provide the one thing the machine apparently couldn't print: metal components, in this instance a set of long thing bands embedded in the laminate at your waist, alongside a set of busks that hook together at the front, allowing the vice-like garment to be open. By the time it concludes, a fresh corset sits loosely around your waist-- until the laces are seized, and the Wardrobe begins to pull. Bit by bit, inch by inch, it tightens the corset. <<if $Gender is 1>>You've never worn //anything// like this, making the sensation altogether strange, an intense embrace around your waist that you cannot shake.<<elseif $Gender is 2>>The galaxy had long abandoned such pieces of fashion, at least in most instances, and you've never worn something like this-- but you quickly find the intense embrace around your waist... interesting, although the way it forces your chest out even further does flush your cheeks anew.<</if>> <<run $Inv.push('Underbust Corset')>>@@.addbox;Underbust Corset Equipped!@@ There the halo-like ring withdraws, but //still//* the Wardrobe is not done. The arms holding you aloft keep you strictly spread, but they do return you to the ground, carefully aligning your bare feet-- just in time for the floor to rise. Or so it seems. In reality a pair of boots are almost extruded from the floor, black laminate wrapping around your feet and ankles, integrating with the cuffs still secured there. You're forced upon your toes, <<if $Gender is 1>>an entirely new experience,<<else>>a new experience given how tall they are,<</if>> but six inch stiletto heels. <<run $Inv.push('Stiletto Boots')>>@@.addbox;Stiletto Boots Equipped!@@ The final component is the simplest, but perhaps the hardest to swallow. Produced fully formed from yet another opened panel, a simple band of steel is quickly secured around your throat, the same small pendent hanging from it that you glimpsed both the receptionist and Jacq wearing-- although this time you can read it easily enough: //Property of Celestine Amriallis Sargon// <<run $Inv.push('Cuff and Collar Set')>>@@.addbox;Cuff and Collar Set Equipped!@@ [[The little pendant clinks softly whenever you move your head.->JumpWard6]]

The final garnish upon your new outfit comes in the form of yet one more armature positioning itself before your face. Inevitably you look to it, wondering what it had left to inflict-- to which it responds with a burst of air. Your eyes close automatically in response, and in that time the Wardrobe does its work, deeply darkening your eyelids, extending your eyelashes, and applying a dark lipstick. The rest, smoothing out your features with an application of foundation and a bit of blush, marks the last bit of the procedure as the arms //finally// start to withdraw. <<if $Gender is 1>><div class="comp">Receptionist Uniform Applied. Dressing Complete. Enjoy...</div><<else>><div class="comp">Receptionist Uniform, Modified, Applied. Dressing Complete. Enjoy..."</div><</if>> <<if $Gender is 1>>[[Released, you stumble out of the open door.->MaleReception]]<<else>>[[Released, you stumble out of the open door.->FemaleReception]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'recepout.png']] Much like the conference room you left behind, one of the walls here is entirely a mirror, allowing you a full view of yourself as you stand uncomfortably upon heels now thrusting you up onto your toes. You've always been rather lean for a man, your shoulders narrow, your hips a bit wider than usual-- but you've never thought about dressing in this manner. You're completely covered yet it still feels so... exposed, your legs in particular quickly growing cold, exposed as they are. Turning to side to side, you watch the glossy laminate reflect the lights around you, emphasizing and furthering your every bodily curve. The corset around your waist only pushes things further, enforcing a feminine silhouette you would never have thought possible-- but combined with the makeup, you look remarkably female. And ridiculous, of course, to your eyes. A skirt, this top, this eyeshadow... what in the hell have you gotten yourself into? You saw your own clothes destroyed by the Wardrobe, and you doubt these machines could produce anything that wasn't glossy and laminate. Even if it could, would it? The heavy steel bindings around your wrist, ankles, and throat weight down on you suddenly, further reminders that you're in *way* over your head. How could you finish your job *now*? Looking... looking like this? <<set $Arou += 15>>@@.addarou;+15 Arousal!@@ You feel your member rise beneath the laminate of your skirt, momentarily announcing itself with a small bulge amongst the otherwise smooth material. Your embarrassment quickly forces it back down, but the danger is clear-- and your options for remedying this all seem few and far between. Perhaps you could try working the machine again, or perhaps you could find some other clothes in this embassy. If you could not... you could either try to attend your meeting with the Ambassador, and try not to *die* from embarrassment. Or make a break for it-- abandon this all, and try to find a way out of the Embassy that wasn't watched. The front door is the only way you've seen, however, and that receptionist would be waiting there. What... what are you going to do? [[You'll just need to keep moving.->WardExit]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'recepout.png']] Much like the conference room you left behind, one of the walls here is entirely a mirror, allowing you a full view of yourself as you stand uncomfortably upon heels now thrusting you up onto your toes. You've gone to clubs a few times, been in different ports and on planets across the galaxy-- but you've never thought about dressing in this manner. You're completely covered yet it still feels so... exposed, your every curve on display. Turning to side to side, you watch the glossy laminate reflect the lights around you, emphasizing and furthering your every bodily proportion. The corset around your waist only pushes things further, enforcing a sultry silhouette you would never have thought possible-- but combined with the makeup, you look undeniably flirty. And ridiculous, of course, to your eyes. A skirt, this top, this eyeshadow... what in the hell have you gotten yourself into? You saw your own clothes destroyed by the Wardrobe, and you doubt these machines could produce anything that wasn't glossy and laminate. Even if it could, would it? The heavy steel bindings around your wrist, ankles, and throat weight down on you suddenly, further reminders that you're in *way* over your head. How could you finish your job *now*? Looking... looking like this? <<set $Arou += 15>>@@.addarou;+15 Arousal!@@ You feel something stir between your legs, an ache that reminds you that this outfit lacked anything like underwear-- lucky your skirt covered your womanhood! But obviously you cannot go on like this. Perhaps you could try working the machine again, or perhaps you could find some other clothes in this embassy. If you could not... you could either try to attend your meeting with the Ambassador, and try not to *die* from embarrassment. Or make a break for it-- abandon this all, and try to find a way out of the Embassy that wasn't watched. The front door is the only way you've seen, however, and that receptionist would be waiting there. What... what are you going to do? [[You'll just need to keep moving.->WardExit]]

<<if $Strike gt 0>>The only good news comes when you look back to the Wardrobe once more, and find a small panel open on its outside. Within it rests a bare handful of the items the Wardrobe had stripped from you. Better than nothing, you suppose. <<if $Strike is 1>><<run $Pock.push('Embassy Keycard')>>@@.addbox;Embassy Keycard Acquired!@@<<elseif $Strike is 2>><<run $Pock.push('Box Key')>>@@.addbox;Box Key Acquired!@@<<elseif $Strike is 3>><<run $Pock.push('Embassy Keycard')>>@@.addbox;Embassy Keycard Acquired!@@ <<run $Pock.push('Box Key')>>@@.addbox;Box Key Acquired!@@<<else>>VARIABLE ERROR<</if>> <<if $Back is 1>><<run $Pock.push('The Box')>>@@.addbox;The Box Acquired!@@<</if>><</if>> <<if $Gender is 1>>That accomplished, you quickly run smack into another problem: actually //walking//. You have absolutely zero experience with heels, the towering pair now locked onto your feet nearly sending you tumbling over before you make it a step. Your new skirt colludes as well, its tight pull on your legs preventing you from much of a stride, while your corset keeps you from bending at the waist as you try to balance. It takes some time, a few precious minutes, for you to work out the basic logistics of it all. You would need to take small, dainty steps. The very definition of ladylike. That allows you the opportunity to walk... but you still do so in an ungainly manner. It would have to do-- the only alternative is crawling, and you would *not* be caught doing that in this uniform.<<else>>That accomplished, you quickly run smack into another problem: //walking//. You have some experience with basic heels, any modern woman did, but absolutely none with the towering pair now locked onto your feet, threatening to send you tumbling over. Your new skirt colludes as well, its tight pull on your legs preventing you from much of a stride, while your corset keeps you from bending at the waist as you try to balance. It takes some time, a few precious minutes, for you to work out the basic logistics of it all. You would need to take small, dainty steps. The very definition of ladylike. That allows you the opportunity to walk... but you still do so in an ungainly manner. It would have to do-- the only alternative is crawling, and you would //not// be caught doing that in this uniform.<</if>> <<set $GotRecep to true>> [[Onward!->Wardrobe]]

<<set $ShelfSearch += 1>><<if $ShelfSearch is 1>>This storage area seems to have started out as a cleaning supplies area, the bottommost shelves still bear what appears to be a variety of cleaners, but over time has been used for just about everything else-- given how little "extra" room you've observed on this floor of the Embassy, it is easy enough to conclude that sticking things here was often easier than storing it elsewhere when not needed. That explains the stack of laminated pamphlets, generic ones describing Torei, an extra set of entrance rugs like you had passed upon entering the Embassy, and the what appears to be a globe of the planet-- sadly damaged, its remnants only revealing that a multitude of petty kingdoms clustered around Torei's equator. Such mundanities make what //else// you find all the more exotic: namely a riding crop, the laminate-covered rod featuring a thicker handle at one base, while the tip is a rectangular looking bit inset with a steel stud. Just what was //that// for? Did Torei have horses? Certainly... certainly they did not utilize such devices on their slaves, right?<<elseif $ShelfSearch is 2>>Digging further amongst the items stored amongst the top shelves, you come across a small bag, its topmost portion tied off and apparently forgotten when it was stored here. Opening it reveals little more than several slips of a glossy paper-like substance, perhaps some sort of laminate derivative. Hand-written script is visible on the bits, perhaps being shredded notes? <<if $Back is 1 or $Back is 3>>They don't appear to be of much interest to you.<<else>>Such a find perks your investigative interest, but you're quickly disappointed to find them to be in a language you do not understand. Torean-- it had to be. The only thing you //can// make out is a name that appears several times, spelled out in the common trade tongue used throughout the universes. //Anastasia//. Perhaps an offworlder name, if spelled out in such a manner? Something to keep in mind.<</if>> Mixed amongst the notes is something else, however, small and hard-- a credit chit! It only has a few on it, but you add it to your pocket, happy to have a bit more spending money. <<set $Debt += 30>> @@.addbox;+30 Credits!@@<<elseif $ShelfSearch gt 2>>Returning to search the shelf once again, you find that you've already given a pretty thorough look at everything-- but making sure never hurt. Starting from the top you work your way down again, poking through the various piles of stored paper-likes, conference room supplies, and cleaning implements. This time you find little of interest that you have not already explored, and conclude that whatever mysteries this little closet held, you've already explored them. Or perhaps you're merely looking in the wrong place.<</if>> <<set $Timer += 1>> [[Keep looking.->StorageShelf]] [[Stop looking for now.->Storage]]

Stepping up to examine the case set aside from everything else, you find it to be perhaps a foot tall, clearly intended to be opened from a hinge built about halfway up. Its is currently marked with a locked symbol, however, and there is little indication of just how this would ever be capable of being opened-- or what it would even be used for. There are no apparent means of forcing access, and its not like you really have the time for that anyway. If Torei was a world of wonders, and this Embassy a small slice of that planet, this case is an enigma all its own. For now you will simply have to leave it, you suppose. [[Strange.->Storage]]

Taking a second look at this room, with eyes long accustomed to walking the decks of a ship, you realize the potential of space like this. On your ship, such storage areas were used for much more than simply accumulating items of occasional use-- they provided access to the various mechanisms buried in the walls, floors, and every other space in such a vessel. With such a thought in mind, you examine not the shelves themselves, but the walls behind them-- and almost immediately recognize a small seam all but flush with the wall itself. Following it, you eventually come upon a small handle jutting out, which your fingers pull open. With a bit of dust the door opens, to reveal... <<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>nothing at first. Your mask's visor is tinted, and adjusting your eyesight to the dim space takes a bit more time than you're accustomed to. Still, you manage, your gaze eventually picking out <</if>>a bundle of cables emerging from several different points, all connecting with a device at the center of it all. A networking relay. Interesting. <<if $UnlockNet is true>>This must be exactly what that note in the networking room mentioned-- which means pulling the cords, and forcing a local reset, should allow access to that computer. It would of course interrupt local service for awhile, but who would notice that?<<else>>But is it of importance? You think not. Ships are your specialty, not networking, and you don't want to mess with anything like this without a specific intent. Perhaps you should keep an eye out, though-- knowing where this was would be a vulnerability just waiting to be exploited, if you ever needed it.<</if>> <<if $UnlockNet is true>>[[Pull those cords.->CompReset]] [[Not yet. Close the door, and leave it be.->Storage]]<<else>>[[Close the door, leave it be for now.->Storage]]<</if>>

This must be the closet mentioned by the note you found alongside the computer, which means that networking access had to be nearby! With such a thought in mind, you examine not the shelves themselves, but the walls behind them-- and almost immediately recognize a small seam all but flush with the wall itself. Following it, you eventually come upon a small handle jutting out, which your fingers pull open. With a bit of dust the door opens, to reveal... <<if $Gear is 5 or 6>>nothing at first. Your mask's visor is tinted, and adjusting your eyesight to the dim space takes a bit more time than you're accustomed to. Still, you manage, your gaze eventually picking out <</if>>a bundle of cables emerging from several different points, all connecting with a device at the center of it all. A networking relay. Interesting. <<if $UnlockNet is true>>This must be exactly what that note in the networking room mentioned-- which means pulling the cords, and forcing a local reset, should allow access to that computer. It would of course interrupt local service for awhile, but who would notice that?<<else>>But is it of importance? You think not. Ships are your specialty, not networking, and you don't want to mess with anything like this without a specific intent. Perhaps you should keep an eye out, though-- knowing where this was would be a vulnerability just waiting to be exploited, if you ever needed it.<</if>> <<if $UnlockNet is true>>[[Pull those cords.->CompReset]] [[Not yet. Close the door, and leave it be.->Storage]]<<else>>[[Close the door, leave it be for now.->Storage]]<</if>>

With all the finesse of a wrecking ball, you pull the cords out one by one, watching as the indicator lights upon the networking switch wink out. By the time you've got them all out you figure it has been long enough, and begin reinserting the first you had pulled. As you push them back into place the network slowly reestablishes itself, leaving a board of green lights upon completion. If that note was correct, however, that computer account back in //Networking// should have logged itself back in automatically. That would provide the access you need, and <<if $Back is 2>>another opportunity for your growing investigation.<<else>>another opportunity to sate your curiosity.<</if>> <<set $ComputerOn to true>><<set $Timer += 1>> [[Excellent.->Storage]]

Standing near the doorway that had granted you access, you look down this secondary wing of the Embassy without many available prospects. Most of the doors here are locked, with only two breaking that trend: the strange heavy looking door furthest down, and one opened about halfway down, Marina's glossy rear sticking out as she rummaged for something within. Approaching her directly seems like a poor idea, <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>given how you're clearly not of the Embassy.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>but you //are// dressed like a member of the Embassy.<<elseif $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>when wearing gear as fully enclosing as you are.<</if>> Still, you've always been good on your feet, perhaps you could justify it? Alternatively sneaking by doesn't seem that hard. [[Approach Marina directly.->ApproachMarina]] [[Sneak past her, check out the strange door.->AirlockDoor]] [[Examine one of the locked doors near you.->ExamineLockedDoors]] [[Head back the way you came.->ReturntoHall]]

It seems... at the very least //bold// to simply approach a member of the Embassy through which you are roaming without permission. Enough so that you find yourself holding position, and evaluating that decision further. <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>You're quite obviously not Torean, your utter lack of laminate made that very clear.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>You //are/ wearing a uniform intended for this Embassy, although that brought up two other considerations: firstly, that you would actually be //seen// wearing this ridiculous outfit, and secondly that any member of this Embassy //should/ recognize you were not a usual member of the staff... right?<<elseif $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>Fully encapsulated in this damnable suit, your identity is hidden, but that's about the only //benefit// obvious to you. You sincerely doubt anyone dressed like this was supposed to be moving about the halls.<</if>> And yet... you could still take the risk. She clearly isn't paying much attention, she probably wouldn't notice you anyway. Besides, how much trouble could you really get into? [[Approach her.->ApproachMarina2]] [[Bad idea. Turn back now.->SmallWingHub]]

Approaching the heavy looking door requires passing near Marina, but you find it quite easy to do-- the sound of rustling //something// from the utility closet is quite loud, and the lewdly garbed woman appears to paying absolutely no attention to anything else. You probably could have ran by without her noticing. As it is, you decide to not tempt fate, and instead move past carefully. On the far side you pick up the pace, and quickly come up against the target of your attentions. As you noticed from afar, the door is indeed quite heavily designed, its intended used immediately evident now that you're close enough-- you're standing before an airlock! <<if $Back is 1>>Your sense for ships had not been misplaced, you //are// on one!<<else>>That could only mean you're on... a ship? Now that you're thinking about it, that door through which you had entered the Embassy proper had been of the same sort, stoutly designed and quite thick.<</if>> That meant you were traversing the halls of a rather large vessel attached to the station, instead of some building within the station itself. That at least explained the impressive stylings you've been traversing so far-- no temporarily occupied building could have been overhauled to look like this in such a short time. Unfortunately you do not have much use of an airlock in that moment. <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>You're obviously not dressed for space,<<else>>You're beginning to understand that laminate could be //many//* things, but it was not vacuum-rated,<</if>> although you see several emergency suits hanging within the airlock's small room, via the window about halfway up. *Hmm.* Something to keep in mind, you suppose, if you ever needed to exit this Embassy quickly... <<set $Timer += 1>> [[For now, you turn back the way you came.->SmallWingHub]]

The door is as sealed as the others, a red indicator light matched with holographically projected lettering: @@colour:red;Level 3 Authorization Required@@. Lacking it, you're denied access to not only this door, but the handful of others that lined the way. Why that was the case is less clear, but you looking about you realize that none of the doors here are labeled. Perhaps this wing was not utilized often? A small mystery, but not one of much note. <<set $Timer += 1>> [[Step back.->SmallWingHub]]

Heading back, you once more have to make the crossing of the junction, where you momentarily stood exposed if the receptionist happened to glance this way. <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>There would be consequences for that, assuredly.<<else>>You can only imagine your own embarrassment at being caught out like that, wearing what you are. Its no different than what the receptionist herself was wearing, of course, but she seemed comfortable in laminate-- and you're still very much getting used to it.<</if>> Thankfully your passage passes without incident, that welling of pressure in your chest sliding away as you consider your next move. <<set $Timer += 1>> [[Back in familiar territory.->HallwayHub]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'marina.png']] Boldness-- <<if $Arou gt 50>>or perhaps your stirring @@color:yellow;arousal@@<<else>>or perhaps madness<</if>> drives you forward, approaching the closet within which Marina was working. She had disappeared from view a few minutes prior, but reappears as you turn the corner, finding a storage area and the woman herself. She's much as you glimpsed before, dressed in a laminate uniform that would have been scandalously cut even if it //hadn't// featured a semi-transparent blouse that exposed her chest completely. <<if $Marina is 0 or $Marina is 1>>You're presented with a more thorough view of her rear, however, as she is bent over once more, mumbling to herself as she digs through several opened filing drawers.<<elseif $Marina is 2>>To your surprise, however, that is hardly the most lewd detail about her at the moment-- as you find her with her back to the filing cabinets occupying most of the closet, her knees shivering, a hand pressed into her skirt directly atop the junction of her legs. She's panting, her heavy chest shifting with each sharp breath as she bites her bottom lip, apparently completely oblivious to your presence. "F-Fuck... just let me... c-cum..." Is she... masturbating? No, but she seems *awfully* close to doing so. <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ Seeing a woman dressed like that, in such a state, incenses you. But it does little to answer any of your questions, besides the apparent affect your adjusting her profile settings had accomplished. <<elseif $Marina is 3>>To your surprise, however, that is hardly the most lewd detail about her at the moment-- as you find her with her back to the filing cabinets occupying most of the closet, her knees shivering, a hand pressed into her skirt directly atop the junction of her legs. She's panting, her heavy chest shifting with each sharp breath as she bites her bottom lip, apparently completely oblivious to your presence. "Kamn it all, I'm being //good*//..." Is she... masturbating? No, she almost seems to be being punished for something. <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ Seeing a woman dressed like that, in such a state, incenses you. But it does little to answer any of your questions, besides the apparent affect your adjusting her profile settings had accomplished.<</if>> <<set $Timer += 1>> [[Better sneak away, before she notices.->SmallWingHub]]

Settling down before the computer, <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>you revel once more at its archaic design before setting to work.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>you find yourself crossing your legs, your lack of underwear making upskirts incredibly easy-- even though the room is empty.<<if $Gender is 1>> Your skirt is so feminine, and tight, you not only cross your legs, but do so with one need atop the other, instead of in any masculine manner. There simply is not enough give in the laminate otherwise.<</if>><<elseif $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>you quietly suppress the moan that threatens, as the plug lodged in your rear shifts perceptibly.<</if>> At least the chair itself is comfortable, and sturdily built. Its arms and legs are far thicker than any other office-like chair you've seen. It appears someone had left the machine turned on, instead of logging themselves out upon leaving. This //could// allow you to find something that would have been otherwise closed to you. Three programs tempt you with opportunities for just that, lacking any names, but their symbols giving you something like an idea of what they are: one features a //night sky// design, small stars on a field of black. Another has a small stylized symbol that looks rather like a //keycard//. The third bears a //pen//, while the fourth and final looks something like a //human silhouette//. Stuck to the bottom right of the corner of the screen in front of you is a sticky note too. [[Click the Night Sky symbol.->Calender]] [[Click the Keycard symbol.->KeycardPrint]] [[Click the Pen symbol.->NoteApp]] [[Click the Human Silhouette symbol.->UserProf]] [[Check out that sticky note instead.->StickyNote]] [[Stand up and leave the computer.->Networking]]

Vending Machines are a staple across both galaxies, with most anything one could ever desire being boxed and packaged for autonomous purchase. The machine you stand before now, however, is only vaguely reminiscent of those veritable cornucopias. Instead of the usual dizzying array of choices, you find the machine only features //four//, displayed on a large set of buttons arranged in a singular row. Nor do you recognize any of the offerings, although a few of them *do* spark curiosity. They must originate from Torei itself? The high prices certainly seem to suggest that. You recall the planet was quite resource poor too, perhaps that explained the slim pickings. <<if $Gear gt 2>>Unfortunately it seems the machine has picked up on the collar at your throat, without recognizing you were merely impersonating... whomever it was that normally wore such laminate. Several of the options are apparently blocked to you, but in turn at least *one* of them is now free.<<else>>Which one will you pick?<</if>> <<if $Gear gt 2>>@@color:red;SLAVE DETECTED. ACCESS TO "Lichen Crisps" DENIED.@@<<elseif $Debt gt 9>>[[Push the button for "Lichen Crisps" (10 Credits)->GetLichen]]<<else>>@@color:red;ERROR: LACK OF 10 CREDITS FOR "Lichen Crisps"@@<</if>> <<if $Gear gt 2>>@@color:red;SLAVE DETECTED. ACCESS TO "Silent Escort Fruit" DENIED.@@<<elseif $Debt gt 19>>[[Push the button for "Silent Escort Fruit" (20 Credits)->GetFruit]]<<else>>@@color:red;ERROR: LACK OF 20 CREDITS FOR "Silent Escort Fruit"@@<</if>> <<if $Gear gt 2>>@@color:red;SLAVE DETECTED. ACCESS TO "Golden Tea" DENIED.@@<<elseif $Debt gt 29>>[[Push the button for "Golden Tea" (30 Credits)->GetTea]]<<else>>@@color:red;ERROR: LACK OF 30 CREDITS FOR "Golden Tea"@@<</if>> <<if $Gear gt 2>>[[Push the button for "Slave Feed" (Free to Slaves)->GetSlaveFeed]]<<elseif $Debt gt 4>>[[Push the button for "Slave Feed" (5 Credits)->GetSlaveFeed]]<<else>>@@color:red;ERROR: LACK OF 5 CREDITS for "Slave Feed"@@<</if>> [[You want nothing from this machine. Step away.->Networking]]

Clicking the //Night Sky// looking symbol opens up with something very familiar: a grid of boxes, aligned to represent the days in the celestial standard method of counting days. A calendar. This one seems to have been used to produce a flight itinerary for the Embassy, tracking its passage through over a dozen worlds across the space of several months. It appears to have been quite the whirlwind tour of the outer-rim, never stopping in one place altogether long. <<if $Back is 1>>Altogether it seems... a bit suspicious. You would have thought an Embassy like this would loiter in place for some time, to allow for the making of contacts and the signing of trading deals. Your experience as a pilot alone suggests, when computing the travel time between these various locations, that they only actually stayed somewhere for a few days at most.<<elseif $Back is 2>>Immediately you begin cross referencing the place names with your investigation of Torei in general, and the Ambassador in particular. You had always thought there was some connection between the Embassy's movements and something besides mere trade, and this readout supports that-- while many of the stops are trading hubs like Calliope, some of them are rather out of the way. The only connecting thread, or so you think, is the //Zangweg Cartel//. You're quite certain they controlled, or had a stake, in all of these places.<<elseif $Back is 3>>You're not really sure what to make of it. As a scholar, your studies occupied most of your time, leaving little for idle fancies like this. At best you're impressed by the breadth of the Embassy's travels-- they appear to have been moving quite consistantly.<</if>> <<set $Timer += 1>> [[Close the application.->ComputerEmb]]

<<if $ComputerOn is false>>Upon opening the application, you're met almost immediately by an error message: <div class="compred">ERROR: SYSTEM IDLE DETECTED. KEYCARD PRINTING AND ADVANCED FUNCTIONALITY LOCKED.</div> As far as messages go, that one could not be more clear. Mention of keycard printing does intrigue you, though. <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>You already have an embassy keycard, of course, but perhaps there are *other* options available?<<else>>You would need an embassy keycard if you ever wanted to access the Embassy's upper level.<</if>> If you could somehow get this computer to cooperate, this could be something to come back to. [[For now, log out of this application.->ComputerEmb]]<<elseif $CardReward is true>>You've already abused the networking flaw the sticky note had indicated, and that loophole does not present itself again. Instead you're faced with a far more vague ERROR than you had first found within this application, a long numerical code replacing what had been a simple text explanation. Obviously tied to networking, and a reminder that even on a Torean system, troubleshooting network errors could be difficult indeed. There is nothing more you can force from this system. [[Log out of this application.->ComputerEmb]]<<else>>Booting up the application, you find your work in the utility closet to have paid immediate dividends-- despite the bold error along the top of the screen. <div class="compred">ERROR: NETWORK LOST. NETWORK REACQUIRED. TEMPORARY VALIDATION TOKEN PROVIDED. SINGULAR ACCESS ALLOWED.</div> Just what that meant is demonstrated by the list of options provided in the console below. It appears your fiddling and rebooted the network and allowed you limited access to perform one, and only one, authorized command. There are three: <div class="comp">Option 1: Print Embassy Keycard Option 2: Print Discretionary Spending Credit Chit Option 3: Reauthorize Unlimited Access</div> Some of the options are more clear than others, but the choice is yours. [[Select Option 1.->PrintKey]] [[Select Option 2.->PrintMoney]] [[Select Option 3.->Reauth]]<</if>>

Clicking the application marked with a pen, the most basic of programs boots up: a text editor, this one having maintained an unfinished document that it presents for you. Leaning forward in the seat, eager for any further information that could be gleaned, you're temporarily kept at bay by the language utilized-- its not the formalized trade language both 'verses used. <div class="comp">La komenca programo devas esti konsiderata preskaŭ kompleta sukceso, escepte de la Celo # 15. Sendepende, precizeco de celaj informoj estis ekstreme preciza, permesante plibonigitan intertraktadon, timigon aŭ akiron. Movado jam estas raportita ankaŭ en la enklavo hejme. Ĉi tiu pruvo de antaŭdira inteligenteco multe pli ol Torei estas senprecedenca, kaj subaj motivoj devas esti esplorataj plu. Rekomendu akiron de eksterlanda helpo por helpi establi probablajn scenarojn antaŭ ol reveni hejmen. La malĉefa programo tiam komenciĝos per enfermado aŭ konvertiĝo de akiritaj celoj - DIKTITA SED NE LEGA</div> Strange. A Torean language, perhaps? It cuts off suddenly, as if the writer had been interrupted. That might explain why this computer was left running, but does also open the opportunity that someone could come back for it. [[Use the computer to translate the message.->TranslateNote]] [[Exit the application.->ComputerEmb]]

The small symbol of a human brings up a truncated list of about twenty names, at least two of which are familiar to you: Celestine Amriallis Sargon, who must be the Ambassador, and Jacq-- the strange individual you met near the front desk, who like many of the others are not marked as having a last name. Actually clicking on the the names does little however, and you're quickly growing frustrated before you notice one highlighted with an extra tag-- //current user//. That must be who had been logged onto this computer before you! Apparently it was someone named //Marina//. <<if $Marina is 0>>You could access what appears to be a personal profile, but it //is// personal information. You doubt you will find anything of importance.<<elseif $Marina is 1>>You've already explored Marina's profile, but did not make a selection at the end, with regards to the strange "training" programs available. You could do so now.<<else>>You've already explored Marina's profile, and don't feel the need to do so again.<</if>> <<if $Marina is 0>>[[Curiosity calls! Click the name.->MarinaProfile]]<</if>><<if $Marina is 1>>[[Go in and click 'Edge Training'.->StartEdge]] [[Go in and click 'Compliance Training'.->StartComply]]<</if>> [[There is little here of use. Close the program.->ComputerEmb]]

<<set $UnlockNet to true>>Unlike just about everything about and within this computer, a sticky note attached to a monitor is something just about anyone who has ever used such devices could recognize and understand. This one appears to be written in a fine, tight hand, but the words are otherwise clearly legible: //Marina-- stop thinking with your cunt for once, and remember to log off the terminal when you're done. If you don't it goes into an idle state, which is a security violation as it is, but then it becomes vulnerable to our network going down. If that happens, anyone could print keycards and the like. Don't try to fix it by bothering with the router behind the access panel in the storage closet either. I don't care what you used to be before you were collared.// <<if $ComputerOn is true>>You've already tampered with the local network, of course.<<else>>A security flaw allowing anyone to print keycards? How... interesting. You remember there being a door marked storage nearby, and if it //did// contain some sort of networking device which, well, you could always tamper with it a bit.<</if>> [[You take a mental note, and look elsewhere.->ComputerEmb]]

<<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>>Hovering the selector over the first option, you pause, and consider the fact that you already //have// an embassy keycard. Acquiring another would hardly be useful. Choosing another of the options would undoubtedly be better. <div class="comp">Option 1: Print Embassy Keycard Option 2: Print Discretionary Spending Credit Chit Option 3: Reauthorize Unlimited Access</div> Some of the options are more clear than others, but the choice is yours. [[Select Option 2->PrintMoney]] [[Select Option 3->Reauth]]<<else>>Hovering the selector over the first option, you click it resolutely. The computer responds with a slow churn of processing, something altogether unthinkable with anything like modern technology, before you hear the sound of something within the case of the machine in front of you hum to life. A few moments later sees a small panel open up, followed by the ejection of a keycard that you pluck immediately. It is a generic one, unadorned, but you're rather confident that the data contained within its little memory bank would be all you needed to access that door up to the 2nd level. <<run $Pock.push('Embassy Keycard')>>@@.addbox;Embassy Keycard Acquired!@@ <<set $CardReward to true>><<set $Timer += 1>> [[Great! Back out of the program.->ComputerEmb]]<</if>>

Hovering the selector over the 2nd option, you confirm it with a resolute click. The computer responds with a slow churn of processing, something altogether unthinkable with anything like modern technology, before you hear the sound of something within the case of the machine in front of you hum to life. A few moments later sees a small panel open up, followed by the ejection of a standardized credit chit-- the small thumbnail-sized card capable of holding an altogether unlimited number of fully digitized funds. This one, upon check the small indicator, appears to have been loaded with 100. <<set $Debt += 100>>@@.addbox;+100 Credits Added!@@ Its not a lot, but hey-- there is that vending machine behind you. Or perhaps you could find another use? Everyone and everything always seemed to need credits. <<set $CardReward to true>><<set $Timer += 1>> [[Log out of the application.->ComputerEmb]]

<<if $Gear gt 2>>It is not exactly clear what "Reauthorize Unlimited Access" meant, but you like the sound of it. At best you guess it would allow you unlimited access to the system, by reestablishing the original link that had timed out, the state in which you had first found the computer. Moving the computer's selector over the option, and with a resolute click, you're met with a grinding sound as the machine processed your command, an unthinkable delay on anything like modern tech. This particularly archaic piece manages eventually however, as fresh words pop to life. <div class="comp">Please take standard posture: feet firmly planted upon the ground, lower head to allow for confirmation scan.</div> Again the computer doesn't make its intentions particularly clear. [[Do as it says, get that full access!->FullAccess]] [[Actually... try "Option 1: Print Embassy Keycard"->PrintKey]] [[Actually... try "Option 2: Print Discretionary Spending Credit Chit"->PrintMoney]]<<else>>It is not exactly clear what "Reauthorize Unlimited Access" meant, but you like the sound of it. At best you guess it would allow you unlimited access to the system, by reestablishing the original link that had timed out, the state in which you had first found the computer. Unfortunately when you click this particular option, after a lengthy, grinding bit of processing, you're refused with an error message. <div class="compred">ERROR: full liberty detected. Ambassador Sargon presumed. Please enter your personal PIN. If the current user is not the Ambassador, please present collar more clearly for identification purposes.</div> Well... you're certainly not the Ambassador, and you have no idea what her PIN number would be. The greater mystery, of course, is the command to present a collar for identification. Did it mean... one of the Embassy's apparent slaves? Why would that be necessary? You're not a slave, of course, and you do not have a collar to scan, so those are questions that will go unanswered. After a few moments the computer seems to recognize your lack of action, and provides the two alternative options once again. <div class="comp">Option 1: Print Embassy Keycard Option 2: Print Discretionary Spending Credit Chit</div> Some of the options are more clear than others, but the choice is yours. [[Select Option 1->PrintKey]] [[Select Option 2->PrintMoney]]<</if>>

Its a little strange, positioning yourself just *so* for a computer, but you persist in your efforts. Feet flat on the floor, calves against the chair legs, you bend forward, positioning yourself so the small emitter eye that opens upon the base of the terminal could its desired scan. A flicker of blue light and a few blinks later, the computer churns through another bit of processing, then responds. <div class="comp">SCAN SUCCESSFUL. Enslaved Status Confirmed. Preparing magnetic restraints.</div> //Restraints?// Its the only warning you get before a panel just beneath your chin flips over, the smooth square of steel you had previously all but ignored replaced by a d-ring hardpoint to which is attached a silvery chain-- one that leaps upward, attracted by the magnetic pull of your collar. It snaps onto the ring hanging from it before you can even pull back, a movement that nearly sends you tumbling over, as your ankles were now attached to the chair-- taking full advantage of the cuff set you're wearing, similar chains had been attached there. Instead of struggling further, you freeze, and assess just what had occurred. Your ankles are secured to the chair, <<if $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>knees spread as wide as your skirt would allow<<else>>knees kept apart<</if>>. The chain above meanwhile leashes you to the table itself, long enough to allow you free movement, but keeping you from standing even if your legs were not restrained. You're secured in a way quite similar, in fact, to the receptionist you had first met upon entering the Embassy. She had been standing, of course, but otherwise... this almost seems to be a requirement for computer use, with such a slave. A fact that's confirmed by the new prompt upon the computer before you: <div class="comp">RESTRAINTS SUCCESSFULLY APPLIED. Reauthorization now in progress. Taking login picture in 5...</div> Wait, //picture//*? The thought sends a fresh spike of panic through your mind. You're already grappling with the possibility of being found here, dressed up like this, chained to a computer you were attempting to access. But to have your picture taken? That would //ensure//* the Embassy staff would know, eventually, what you done. <<if $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>Despite your uniform you're clearly not actually part of the Embassy.<<else>>Your tinted mask may hide your identity, but not the fact that //someone// was roaming about in such a suit.<</if>> With that countdown, though, you will need to act fast. <<set $TookPic to 1>> [[Pull hard on your leash, break it!->BreakLeash]] [[Duck down, out of sight!->DuckDown]] [[There is no avoiding this, at least ensure you take a good picture.->TakePic]]

With a burst of strength provided by the adrenaline your body supplies at the prospect of getting caught, you grip the leash with both hands, and pull. *Hard*. You would have liked to stand, to use the leverage that would have provided, but your ankles are still secured, and you simply have to work with what you got. Unfortunately *what you got* is up against cold steel, any hint of Torean restraint manufacturing being as archaic as their computers destroyed by the absolutely zero progress you make before a sudden click and a flash of light that briefly fills the dim room. //Shit.// <div class="comp">LOGIN PICTURE TAKEN. SENDING... SENDING...</div> Chained to the spot as you are, there is not much you can do besides wait, further communication coming after several seconds. <div class="compred">ERROR: ADMINISTRATION OVERRIDE. ACCESS DENIED. RELEASING...</div> Releasing? Your ankle cuffs pull free and the leash falls away even as you squint at the words upon the screen, trying to make sense of them. Administrative Override? What did that mean? Best case scenario, the networking issues this machine had suffered at your hand had ruined its ability to communicate with whatever server ran things in this Embassy. Worst case scenario? Someone had manually blocked your attempt, yet let you free... a thought that sends a bit of a chill down your spine, as you look once more at the camera aperture built into the computer itself. At least you're free again. Without anything like a reward for your efforts, but as you back out of the application you do so with quite a bit more wariness. Thankfully no other forms of surprise bondage arise to threaten you. <<set $CardReward to true>> [[Whew?->ComputerEmb]]

Figuring that no amount of physical force cover overtake the tensile strength of steel, you instead duck down, trying to hide beneath the table. At least the camera could not see you then-- and it does indeed click soon after, together with a flash of light that briefly fills the otherwise dimly lit room. You wait for nearly a minute more, to ensure there wasn't any chance of a second attempt, before rising to look again at the computer. <div class="comp">LOGIN PICTURE TAKEN. SENDING... SENDING...</div> Chained to the spot as you are, there is not much you can do besides wait, further communication coming after several seconds. <div class="compred">ERROR: NO SUBJECT IN VIEW. ACCESS DENIED. RELEASING...</div> Releasing? Your ankle cuffs pull free and the leash falls away even as you squint at the words upon the screen, trying to make sense of them. Your plan had... worked. There appeared to be little hope of getting anything like a reward for all your work now, but you *had* avoided what could have been a major issue with your efforts going forward. As for the consequences you had avoided, thinking quickly on your feet as you had, you cannot be sure-- but at least you're free again. Backing out of the program, you're relieved to find no further surprises awaiting you. <<set $CardReward to true>><<set $Timer += 1>> [[Whew?->ComputerEmb]]

Do you remain in place as an act of simple logic, based upon the improbability of successfully breaking your leash? Or, perhaps, does the prospect of being captured like //this// excite you? It is certainly an interesting thought, or distressing, given how you look at it, but either way it is pushed from your mind by a sudden flash of light. Together with a click you're captured as you are, looking somewhat demurely in the aperture. <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ <div class="comp">LOGIN PICTURE TAKEN. SENDING... SENDING...</div> The computer grinds through another period of processing as you wait patiently, feeling the subtle weight of the chain hanging from your collar. Further communication comes soon enough. <div class="compred">ERROR: ADMINISTRATION OVERRIDE. ACCESS DENIED. RELEASING...</div> Releasing? Your ankle cuffs pull free and the leash falls away even as you squint at the words upon the screen, trying to make sense of them. Administrative Override? What did that mean? Best case scenario, the networking issues this machine had suffered at your hand had ruined its ability to communicate with whatever server ran things in this Embassy. Worst case scenario? Someone had manually blocked your attempt, yet let you free... a thought that sends a bit of a chill down your spine, as you look once more at the camera aperture built into the computer itself. At least you're free again. Without anything like a reward for your efforts, but as you back out of the application you do so with quite a bit more wariness. Thankfully no other forms of surprise bondage arise to threaten you. <<set $CardReward to true>><<set $TookPic to 2>> [[Whew?->ComputerEmb]]

Cycling through the rather archaic program's features, you eventually find a translation function, the current language identified as //High Torean.// By initiating the translation process, you need only highlight the message fragment, then wait a surprisingly long time for the computer to work through the text. When it does, you're presented with something entirely legible. <div class="comp">The initial program should be considered an almost complete success, excepting Target #15. Regardless, accuracy of targeting information has been extremely precise, allowing for improved negotiation, intimidation, or acquisition. Movement is already reported in the Enclave back home, as well. This demonstration of predictive intelligence far beyond Torei is unprecedented, and underlying motives must be explored further. Recommend acquisition of offworlder assistance to help establish likely scenarios before return drag home. The secondary program will then begin with confinement or conversion of acquired targets-- DICTATED BUT NOT READ</div> Well. <<if $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>The number fifteen stands out to you, the same number emblazoned upon the back of your suit. Was it originally intended for this 'Target 15'? <</if>><<if $Back is 2>>Fascinating. A Source, an Enclave, and even something the Ambassador feared. You smell an angle, and a story of great interest. <<elseif $Back is 3>>Fascinating. The mentioned offworlder... could that be you? Which would make the Source... an AI of some sort? Or at least related. <</if>>It is still hard to draw any firm conclusions. But you find yourself intrigued. This whole Embassy was covering up for an underlying purpose! Perhaps further exploration would find more details for you? Or perhaps you're simply getting too far in over your head. [[For now, back out of the program.->ComputerEmb]]

Always willing to explore further, you open up the profile, and get your first glimpse of just who's lax security you were taking advantage of. What you first assume to be glossy but otherwise mundane office attire is quickly overridden by the realization that the woman in the profile picture has a blouse that is semi-transparent-- fully exposing her expansive chest, each nipple marked with piercings. Even as you blush you cannot pull your gaze from her tight pencil skirt, the way her waist pulls in so tightly, or how lewd she looks even at rest. Marina, whatever role she played in the Embassy, looked more like a sensual creature than anyone capable of doing actual work.<<if $MetMarina is true>> And you've met her! Or at the very least *seen* her, upstairs.<</if>> [img[setup.ImagePath+'marina.png']] <div class="comp">CURRENT USER ESSENTIAL STATISTICTS Name: Marina Status: Slave Owner: Ambassador Sargon Role: Sexretary Height: 5'8" Bust: 35.4" (32DD) Waist: 24.4" Waist, Laced: 20" Hips: 39" Notes: Oral Proficiency, Standard Bust/Hip/Lips Improvements, Tendons Adjusted for Heel Wearing, Sensuality Inducement, Full Set of Piercings, Gag Reflex Supressed, Fertility Modifier, Full Rainbow Suite</div> That something like an Embassy could consider //bust// and //hip// size to be "essential" almost leaves you embarrassed for this *Marina* in her absence, but seeing her dressed like that, her measurements (and chest) so casually exposed, and those notes seemed to imply... gosh, you're feeling a bit flushed. <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ You're preparing to back out of the program when you notice something else at the bottom, what appears to be a pair of... you're not really sure. Options, certainly, but as to their exact use? There is no further description beyond their names: //Edge Training// and //Compliance Training//. You could push your luck further and see what they do, or log out of the profile system-- and always come back later. [[Click 'Edge Training'.->StartEdge]] [[Click 'Compliance Training'.->StartComply]] [[Choose neither, and close the program.->CloseProfile]]

Clicking the option marked //Edge Training//, you're treated to... nothing, because an acknowledgement of the command. Huh. <<if $MetMarina is true>>You've already seen Marina, though. Perhaps checking on her would reveal just what you have done?<<else>>You would just have to keep an eye out, and see if you noticed any changes. Perhaps if you found this Marina?<</if>> Either way, all you can do now is close out the program. <<set $Marina to 2>><<set $Timer += 1>> [[Which you do.->ComputerEmb]]

Clicking the option marked //Compliance Training*//, you're treated to... nothing, because an acknowledgement of the command. Huh. <<if $MetMarina is true>>You've already seen Marina upstairs, though. Perhaps checking on her would reveal just what you have done?<<else>>You would just have to keep an eye out, and see if you noticed any changes. Perhaps if you found this Marina?<</if>> Either way, all you can do now is close out the program. <<set $Marina to 3>><<set $Timer += 1>> [[Which you do.->ComputerEmb]]

Instead of choosing either of the relatively unclear options, you instead log out of the program altogether. You could always come back to it later, you suppose, and besides-- who in their right mind just clicked things on a computer without understanding what they did? <<set $Marina to 1>> [[Good call.->ComputerEmb]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'lichenchips.png']] <<set $Debt -= 10>>@@.minbox;-10 Credits!@@ A small bag is dispensed at your touch, the contents revealed to be what look like crisps, small and crunchy, but also strangely //green//. Obviously intended for promotional use, the otherwise clear bag does have a small card inserted, upon which is written a bit of background: *given Torei's limited biosphere, lichens are by far the most cultivated crop, and can be made into any number of foods. Different strains are also the source of laminate resin!* The question now, of course, is if you wish to actually taste such a thing. [[Eat them!->Lichen2]] [[On second thought... throw them into the trash.->ThrowFood]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'slavefeed.png']] <<if $Gear lt 3>><<set $Debt -= 5>>@@.minbox;-5 Credits!@@ You're not sure //why// you selected something called //Slave Feed//. But you have. Picking up the small sampler container dispensed from the machine, you find it to be a simple white-ish thing, viscous but capable of sliding around as you hold it to the light. A gruel of some sort, then? A label printed upon the side provides a bit more information: //nutrient-packed and rendered from lichen, Slave Feed is a Torean staple, consumed by a majority of residents in most Ringdoms. A single portion of this size is an effective replacement for a meal, with most choosing to consume their daily allotment in a singular sitting.// Its not exactly an appetizing prospect, but you did pay for it...<<else>>You're not sure //why// you selected something called *Slave Feed*. Perhaps because it was offered freely? Or perhaps merely because of the collar around your throat. Either way, picking up the small sampler container dispensed from the machine, you find it to be a simple white-ish thing, viscous but capable of sliding around as you hold it to the light. A gruel of some sort, then? A label printed upon the side provides a bit more information: //*FOR SLAVE USE ONLY. Contains one meal-equivalent. Guaranteed to provide all essential nutrients, provide full and shiny hair, and to be devoid of flavor.// Not exactly an appetizing prospect, but... should you try it?<</if>> [[Drink it!->SlaveFeed2]] [[On second thought... throw them into the trash.->ThrowFood]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'vendfruit.png']] <<set $Debt -= 20>>@@.minbox;-20 Credits!@@ A small bag is dispensed at your touch, the contents revealed to be a quartet of small fruit, each no bigger than your thumb. They're wrapped in a natural casing of some sort, brittle like a dried leaf, crackling away as you explore them with your fingers. Included beside them is a small slip, obviously intended for promotional use, that explains a bit of what you're looking at: //comparable to trees found on many of your worlds, Silent Escorts are a rarity on Torei, found only near water sources in the Badlands. This sample of their fruit is sourced from domesticated farms, and are note for their sweet flavor!// The question now, of course, is if you wish to actually taste such a thing. [[Eat them!->Fruit2]] [[On second thought... throw them into the trash.->ThrowFood]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'slavefeed.png']] <<set $Debt -= 30>>@@.minbox;-30 Credits!@@ //Golden Tea// is a rather nondescript name, but it does prove apt: the small container of liquid dispensed by the vending machine is indeed a bright shade of orange-gold. What's more, a label affixed to the side provides a bit of information on the drink: //a traditional delicacy on Torei, Golden Tea is derived from a lichen cultivated since the dawn of Torean society. Known for its calming effect upon the body, Golden Tea is popular amongst the nobility across many Ringdoms. Warning: if traveling to Torei, beware that the legality of Golden Tea varies by Ringdom.// The question now, of course, is if you wish to actually taste such a thing. [[Drink it!->Tea2]] [[On second thought... throw them into the trash.->ThrowFood]]

Popping the bag open, you give them a try. They're... dry. Very dry, in fact. But not entirely bad. The taste is subdued and a bit earthy, certainly nothing like what you would expect from such a food. If all Torean foods were like this, however, you can only imagine the credits one could make importing food. Introduce them to real //flavor//. As it is, after sampling a few more, you deposit the bag into the bin beside the vending machine. <<set $Timer += 1>> [[Tasty-ish!->VendEmb]]

Perhaps you got a little //too// adventurous with your purchase. A small bin besides the vending machine allows you to throw it away, your courage having faltered. It couldn't actually be that bad, right? You will never know now, unless you buy another, of course. [[For now you stand once more before the machine.->VendEmb]]

<<if $Gear lt 5>>For better or worse, you pop the seal off the small bottle, and raise it to your lips.<<else>>You may be masked and gagged, but the former features a small tube intended for feeding-- a reminder of how long something like this was apparently designed to be worn. Popping the seal off the small bottle, you unhook the exterior tube and slide it in, then suck hard.<</if>> As promised, it is... quite tasteless. In fact the lack of flavor almost becomes flavor unto itself, a vaguely chemical-like sensation you cannot shake, even as the 'food' slides down your throat. Its not an enjoyable sensation, but you push through, intent on finishing it. When you do, the last few drops clinging to the now empty container, you look down and reflect on what you have done: consumed //Slave Feed.// <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>The realization shames you, and yet... why does this arouse you?! The sensation is almost //frustrating.// You can't imagine living off such a substance.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>You look down at your laminate-covered form, at the red of your blouse, the black of of your corset and skirt. Was wearing this... affecting you? Why was this so... compelling? What would it be like to eat //only// such food?<<elseif $Gear is 5 or $Gear is 6>>You look down, to the glossy black material of your suit, your teeth digging into the cock lodged between your lips, beneath your mask. Was wearing this... affecting you? Why was this so... compelling? What would it be like to eat only such food?<</if>> <<set $Timer += 1>><<set $TriedFeed to true>> [[Throwing the container away, you try not to think about it further.->VendEmb]]

The little red fruit are quite good when plucked from their natural wrappings. As advertised they're quite sweet, but the texture is surprisingly dry-- although considering they were apparently natural to a place known as the //Badlands//, you can imagine the //Silent Escort// tree-likes tried to conserve moisture. Overall? Surprisingly tasty, enough so that the small sample almost leaves you wanting more. They were quite expensive, though-- an probably were on Torei too, given how small they are. You have to wonder at how most could be fed on a planet with such apparently limited agriculture. Depositing the now empty bag in the bin besides the machine, you step back and consider your choices. <<set $Timer += 1>> [[Tasty->VendEmb]]

Despite the disclaimer you pull off the tab sealing the top, and down the small sampler in a singular pull. It tastes... //subtle//. There is a hint of flavor there, like a gentle caress, but it does not overstay its welcome-- its gone almost too quickly. But as the taste leaves your tongue a cooling sensation spreads out from your chest, a chill that feels quite remarkable. You take a deep breath almost by reflex, and find yourself... calmed. <<set $Arou -= 20>>@@.minarou;-20 Arousal!@@ Why would such a drink's legality ever be in question, on Torei? Something to ponder as you toss the disposable container into the bin beside the machine. <<if $Arou lt 0>><<set $Arou to 0>><</if>><<set $Timer += 1>> [[Intriguing...->VendEmb]]

Ascending the stairs one by one, your sense of apprehension grows. Wandering the 1st floor was one thing, but actively subverting security to get up here? You would need to be extra vigilant. <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>Luckily your boots are well suited for this, the thick rubber of their soles muffling your every step.<<elseif $Gear gt 2>>Your new shoes make that difficult, however, as the stiletto heels click audibly with every step. You're not nearly experienced enough to move very quietly.<</if>> [[You reach the 2nd floor.->Hallway2Hub]]

Where the first floor featured all the aesthetic wealth of an embassy clearly trying to put itself on display, the hallway you stand in now is more utilitarian-- and honestly not very building-like at all. A bulkhead halfway down almost looks like you're aboard a ship, and the floor beneath your feet is steel, as if intended for mag-boots. More startling, however, are the worlds emblazoned upon the walls in bright red paint: ''@@color:red;SLAVE QUARTERS@@''. Another glass door, with another staircase leading upward, is directly before you-- and once again locked. Otherwise another set of doorways loom further down the hall, five of them in total. //Control Suite #1//, //Control Suite #2//, //Rooms//, and //Cells//. Altogether a far more foreboding set of options. <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>[[Go back the way you came, down to the first level.->BalledDoorBlock]]<<elseif $DoorCheck is false and $Gear gt 4>>[[Go back the way you came, down to the 1st level.->HeavyGearEvent]]<<else>>[[Go back the way you came, down to the 1st level.->GoDownStairs]]<</if>> [[Approach that other staircase, leading up to the 3rd level.->3rdLevelDoor]] [[Approach the door labeled Control Suite #1.->CSuite1]] [[Approach the door labeled Control Suite #2.->CSuite2]] [[Approach the door labeled Rooms.->SlaveRooms]] [[Approach the door labeled Cells.->SlaveCells]]

<<if $Gender is 1>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromale.png']]<<else>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repro.jpg']]<</if>> Passing through the door that led back into the stairway you had once so easily used to ascend. Heading down is //far// harder now, given the strange uniform that machine had installed upon you. Your heels make balancing tricky, the danger of tumbling over quite real, especially without anything like handrails to keep you up. So you keep a hand upon the wall, trying to look down, through the tinted mask locked upon your head. Your vision is restricted, the field of view narrowed, forcing you to only concentrate harder. But the hardest detail, of course, is what had been installed *inside* you. <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ <<if $Gender is 1>>The intruder buried in your rear, a sensation so new and unnatural, shifts with every step you make. You cannot help but feel more @@color:yellow;aroused@@ as it pushes up against a point of sensuality deep within your ass that you had never known existed. It tweaks and teases, causing you to pause, to catch your breath-- an effort once more made difficult by your mask and corset.<<else>>The dual intruders buried in your cunt and rear, a sensation of fullness so strange and unnatural to you, shift with every step you make. You cannot help but feel more @@color:yellow;aroused@@ as they churn within your slicked holes, teasing and tweaking so readily. You pause, trying to catch your breath, only to find that your mask and corset make that so difficult.<</if>> Your brief hesitation grows longer with each laminate-scented breath you take, the totality of your experience overwhelming when you happened to focus more upon it. Almost without thinking, your hand drifts between your legs... <<if $Arou lt 75>>[[Resist the temptation...->ResistTemp]]<<else>>@@color:yellow;You're too aroused to resist temptation!@@<</if>> [[Touch yourself, just for a little bit!->RegTemp]] <<if $Arou gt 74>>[[Please! You just want to cum!->HardTemp]]<<else>>@@color:yellow;You're not aroused enough to give totally into temptation...@@<</if>>

Returning the way you came, you enter the staircase leading down, and make your way along it. <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>Doing so is easy enough, your only concern being that the door at the bottom had closed and there was no keycard slot on this side-- but it must have had a sensor, as it opens automatically at your approach, before closing once more.<<else>>Without a handrail you're forced to run a hand along the wall so that you do not tumble down the stairs, your tall heels making every step more than a little precarious. Somehow you manage, however, and as you step through the door at the bottom it closes behind you.<</if>> [[Back on the 1st floor.->2ndFloorDoor]]

Approaching the door, you find it sealed, a red indicator light matched with holographically projected lettering: @@color:red;Level 3 Authorization Required@@. You may have had the keycard to get up to this level, but clearly whatever lay further above required even greater authorization. Given how lucky you were to have gotten the keycard that you did, you consider it rather unlikely you will be able to find another. Given the Embassy would be vacating the station soon, you expect you will never really get an opportunity to sate your curiosity, and discover what lies even further above. <<set $Timer += 1>> [[A shame, but understandable.->Hallway2Hub]]

<<if $ControlMeet is false>>Stepping up to the door, you find it to be unique amongst the many you have thus far passed-- for it is transparent. A good thing too, for just as you move to open the door you recognize movement within. Someone was inside! Quickly you dart out of the way, pressing up against the wall, holding your breath. A moment passes, then two-- and no one emerges. Your thumping heart revels in that, had whoever was inside done so you most certainly would have been seen-- the hallway didn't have anywhere at all to hide. And then a new opportunity breaks upon you-- to move closer to the door, listening carefully, to see just who or what lurked within. [[Do it!->ApproachDoor]] [[Too risky, back off for now!->Hallway2Hub]]<<else>>Stepping back up to the door labeled //Control Suite #1//, you make sure this time to do so carefully, knowing just who lurked within. Edging back up to the door allows you to glance around the corner, listening in... [[What do you hear?->BackatDoor]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'csuite.png']] Entering into //Control Suite #2//, you find yourself ensconced in darkness. A dark gloom permeates the room, broken only by the neon glow of several control panels located in a series of banks. One, two, three-- their light bright enough that you nearly miss what fills the space between them: black edifices, about six feet high and only a a few deep. You very well may have bumped into them anyway had their surfaces not been glossy-- reflecting a bit of purple back out onto the room. <<if $Gear gt 4>> That violet light still blinks upon the furthest of the large black blocks, a siren in the darkness, calling you...<</if>> Turn your gaze away from the wall that housed all of that, you see another strange container-like thing at the end of the room, although this one is larger, with rounded corners. It must have been white in color, but in the darkness it appears to be little more than a dull black. Honestly a little bit of light would be quite helpful. Looking around for that, however, proves almost fruitless. There are no controls near the door, the usual place to put them. Was that a Torean standard too, though? Glancing around further, the only light you //do// notice is a small one mounted on the wall opposite all the monitors, above a workbench of some sort. <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>You cannot operate the control panels with your bondage mitts on.<<else>>[[Check out one of those control panels.->ControlPan]]<</if>> [[Examine the rounded thing on the far wall.->ControlWard]] <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>You cannot turn on that small light, with your bondage mitts on.<<else>>[[Turn on that small light, it is something at least.->WallLight]]<</if>> [[Return to the light, and exit this strange room.->Hallway2Hub]]

The door labeled //Rooms// opens at your touch, ushering you inside after a quick peek to make sure it is uninhabited. You find that to be the case, and in fact for perhaps the first time in this strange Embassy you stand within an area that almost looks... normal. Well, as normal as a smaller hallway could be, a number of doors lining each wall. Three on each side, six in all. Each has a name emblazoned upon the door itself, as well as a singular word above it. ''SLAVE'' ''ALIA'' So declares the nearest. Each door also features a window, allowing you a glimpse inside. You see a small room, a good half of it taken up by a bed against the far wall. At first glance it almost looked like a bed found anywhere else in the Verse, but the sheets upon it are far too glossy to be anything else but more laminate, and you note several steel loops built into the bedframe. Restraint points? Glancing back down the hallway, you suspect the other rooms would be much the same. Nevertheless, one does stand out to you, the last on the left side. ''SLAVE'' ''JACQ'' Jacq. That strange person you had met in the lobby, and the Ambassador's apparent right-hand. Would there be anything of note in their room? You've already come so far already. [[Enter Jacq's Room.->JacqRoom]] [[Leave this area, return to the hallway.->Hallway2Hub]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'capsule.png']] Approaching the door labeled Slave Cells, you're ushered into another quiet hallway. This one however features openings, perhaps three feet by three feet, spaced evenly along the walls in columns of two. Approaching the nearest, you find a glass barrier, red holo-letters projected across the front. @@color:red;LOCKED LOCKED LOCKED@@ The window is nevertheless clear, allowing you to look into what at first reminds you <<if $Back is 1>>of the sleeping births on your ship<<elseif $Back is 2>>the sleeping births of the ship you took to this planet<<else>>a small capsule hotel<</if>>. A room in miniature, although the amenities such as they are within the pod are very stark. The walls are white, and a portion that you presume to be a bed is little more than a slightly padded portion. There are no areas for storage, and the only decoration if it could be called that is a small mirror and shelf about halfway in. Glancing down the way you see, stacked in twos, about two dozen such rooms. Or perhaps //cell// really was a better term for it. You cannot imagine anyone could really live in such a place. [[Walk down and check the cells.->CheckCells]] [[Something is hanging on the wall, about halfway down.->Cutter]] [[Head back out the way you came.->Hallway2Hub]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacqhead.png']] The room is dark, and the transparent door through which you sneak a look somewhat tinted-- it takes you a moment to pick out two figures, one leaning against the wall near the door, the other further in. The latter speaks, the voice unfamiliar but lilted with an accent you can't quite place. An unmistakable air of aristocracy lines every word however, the woman speaking with the firmness of someone who *always* got their way. "You really must learn to not play with your food, Jacq." The figure near the door looks up from their glass device, smirking. You realize it is indeed Jacq, last seen leaving you to the conference room. Glancing down, you recognize their boots readily now, their strict design still worn so effortlessly. "I always tell you, Mistress-- without me, you wouldn't have //any// fun." //Mistress?// The other figure turns, giving you your first clear view, as you put two and two figuratively together. Jacq had admitted to being owned by... <<set $ControlMeet to true>> [[...Ambassador Sargon.->FirstSargon]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'csuite.png']] Peeking through the door again, you see it still occupied by Jacq and the Ambassador. Instead of getting distracted by them, however, you notice a bit more of the Control Suite itself. Monitoring panels flicker in the gloomy lighting of the room, a bank of them set alongside three larger black edifices. They're square, about six feet tall, and opaque... you're not really sure what you're looking at. Containers of some kind? You cannot enter the room itself to verify your hypothesis, instead stepping back, still wary of the people within exiting suddenly. It is probably best you explore elsewhere. [[Indeed.->Hallway2Hub]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] Ambassador Sargon is revealed to be a tall woman, dressed fully in laminate, but in a manner you've not yet encountered. The Embassy's guards had been uniformed, the receptionist clearly submissive, Jacq playful and strange-- but Ambassador Sargon positively bleeds a sense of overwhelming power. The way she stands, back straight, hands collected together before her, the way she seems to look down at Jacq even though she's only an inch or two taller given their much taller heels, even the way she speaks-- each word clearly enunciated, clipped as if the syllables themselves were being berated for their inefficiency. "I should have made you a soubrette with a tongue like that. I can certainly think of better uses for it." Jacq only smiles, meeting the Ambassador's gaze, but your eyes had already drifted downward. How could they not? Like everyone else associated with the Embassy, the Ambassador is dressed in full laminate, a set of tight leggings running up to a strictly tied corset, of the style that rose over and covered a bountiful chest. Above that she bares enough skin to be scandalous in any professional environment you're familiar with, her chest framed by a frilled design that runs up her shoulders, a feather-like accoutrement adding a distinguished touch to her silhouette. Her hair, black, is pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail, matching her gloves, of the same metallic blue as everything else, but fingerless, and brutally utilitarian. One such cloaked hand reaches up, a singular finger slipping through the ring hanging from the front of Jacq's collar. Tugging them off the wall, the Ambassador tips her head to the side. "I'll be putting your ass to use tonight either way, but how your little game turns out *will* impact things. Compliance would be better." Jacq's smile had never faded, despite being chest to chest with the Ambassador. Nor had that swagger in their tone disappeared. "If you will allow, Mistress... I did suggest that having them committed would //probably// be necessary." Sargon holds for a moment, looking into the eyes of her slave, before finally releasing Jacq and stepping away with a decisive gesture. "Mhm. Let us see how the situation develops before we discuss further the manner of //fun// to be involved, yes? Until then, we make sure our guests are ready for transport. The readings from all three here are still above acceptable baselines?" "Indeed," Jacq replies, as your interest wanes. They devolve into a back and forth over mathematical figures, the context for which you lack. As your attention slides away, you find yourself staring at the Ambassador instead... [[A terrifying woman.->SargonTerr]] [[A beautiful woman.->SargonWoman]] [[You find yourself wishing she would grab your collar like that.->SargonCollar]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] Toreans were bred differently. Literally, or so you heard somewhere or another. Whatever the source, the result was a woman of stature despite the absurdity of her outfit. How could someone wear something so distinctly sexual, so revealing, and yet retain the pose you had so briefly witnessed? A mystery. But you //can// conclude that she wore it all so well. Strong and beautiful... <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ You shake away your flustered thoughts, focusing instead on the reality of your situation. Entering //Control Suite #1// was thus out of the question, unless they left for some reason. There was //Control Suite #2 just across the hall though, it had to be similar enough, right? [[Only one way to find out.->Hallway2Hub]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] Toreans were bred differently. Literally, or so you heard somewhere or another. Whatever the source, the result was a woman of stature despite the absurdity of her outfit. How could someone wear something so distinctly sexual, so revealing, and yet retain the pose you had so briefly witnessed? A mystery. But one you just can't shake from your mind. <<if $Gear gt 2>>You already wore a collar, its tight pull around your neck impossible to ignore. Just like Jacq. <<else>>You don't have a collar like Jacq wore, but you can imagine wearing one.<</if>> How would it feel to have someone seize upon it? To know that she had control over you, that she owned you, that you are //property?// <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ You shake away your flustered thoughts, focusing instead on the reality of your situation. Entering //Control Suite #1// was thus out of the question, unless they left for some reason. There was //Control Suite #2 just across the hall though, it had to be similar enough, right? [[Only one way to find out.->Hallway2Hub]]

<<set $Arou to 0>> <<set $PlantSmell to 0>> <<set $Gear to 2>> [[Aromatic]]

<<if $Gear lt 5>>Picking the middle set of panels at random, you approach halcyon glow expectantly. <<if $Back is 1>>As a pilot you're versed in all manner of control surfaces, it came with having to navigate a galaxy chock full of different design standards.<<elseif $Back is 2>>As a journalist, anything that promised to provide some manner of data access perked your interest.<<else>>The galaxy was large, and its manners of data storage complex, but as a scholar you've learned one simple truth: everyone stored their information similarly.<</if>> In this instance, you're only //sort of// disappointed. Less an integrated subsystem of the Embassy itself, and more a dedicated monitor attached to the large black and glossy rectangle nearby, it takes you a moment to parse the data constantly streaming through. Oxygen rate, stimulation rate, alertness, wakefulness-- these are biomedical triggers! Glancing again at the strange glossy block nearby, you wonder at what could be inside. A Torean animal, perhaps? Certainly... certainly not a human, right? Whatever was inside is labeled at least, as ''Subject #9''. [[Try to pull up more information.->ControlPan2]] [[Check one of the other monitors.->OtherMonitor]] [[Step back from the panels.->CSuite2]]<<else>>Having learned caution from your experience with the mask, but perhaps not enough to have simply fled, you approach the new blinking indicator upon the last of the black block-like edifices. The circular blinking light expands at your approach, becoming a larger interface, as words print out slowly, letter by letter. <div class="comppurp">Welcome, Subject #15. Your cell is ready. Open?</div> [[Press the button to open...->OpenCell]] [[No way! Step back immediately!->CSuite2]]<</if>>

Moving through the rectangular room, you approach the point furthest from the door through which you had entered. Before you stands the rounded thing you had seen from afar, its features a bit clearer now that you're close to it. White in coloration albeit darkened by the gloom of the room, the device is rounded and quite large, perhaps twice your wingspan. But what is it? <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>You're not certain. Some sort of Torean technology? You're not familiar with anything like this, at least, and it lacks any sort of seam or seal. You have no idea how to open it, if that was even possible.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>You recognize that immediately, as the source of your current laminate outfit. A Wardrobe Device, of the same design and style as the one you had encountered downstairs! Was this some private one, then? It is hard to tell Torean intentions. You don't see a way to activate this one, at least.<<else>>The machine that had put you into the very suit you're wearing, of course. It was able to communicate with your mask somehow, enough to have tricked you into entering. However it managed that, however, it does not respond to your presence now. You're locked in... <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ ...and like everything else in this damn suit, that excites you.<</if>> [[Step back and away.->CSuite2]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'thebox.png']] Moving to the light, you fumble in the darkness for a few moments until finally managing to flick it on. <<if $BoxMeet is true and $Gear lt 5>>The box you had opened there remains where you had left it, the slightly glossy exterior split open upon that impossible seam. Within rests what you had found inside, the mask. You need not pick it up to recall the smooth laminate of its construction, nor that strange impetus you had fostered to actually put it on. That, of course, would be absurd. Why would you want to do that? <<if $Arou gt 60>>@@color:yellow;Because it looks so tight, and that cock gag...!@@<<else>>You have no idea, or at least are not @@color:yellow;aroused@@ enough to think on it further.<</if>> <<if $Arou gt 60>>[[Put on the mask...->MaskOn]]<<else>>[[There is nothing here for you, turn off the light and step away.->CSuite2]]<</if>><<elseif $Gear gt 4>>The box opened there remains where you had left it, the slightly glossy exterior split open upon that impossible seam. It is empty now, of course, the mask that had been within now firmly locked upon your head. Your gloved hands move up of their own accord, tracing over the straps, once more feeling the little digital padlocks that prevented your removing it. Silently you suck on the cock it forced between your lips, wondering if putting it on had at all been worth it... [[Turn off the light, and step away...->CSuite2]]<<else>>Boxes. You're greeted with the sight of a half dozen different boxes, perhaps one foot by one foot across. <<if $Back is 1>>Exactly the same as the one you had been contracted to transport! <</if>>They're black and slightly glossy, just like the much larger things near the panels across the room. Another similarity is the lack of a seam, or any method to access them. Or so you think. <<if $Back is 1>>Setting your Box down amongst the others, it suddenly blinks to life with a violet holographic display.<<else>>When your hand approaches the nearest of the boxes it flickers to life with a violet holographic display.<</if>> <<if $Back is 1>><div class="comppurp">Delivery complete, connection with assigned Wardrobe established. Unlock?</div> Doing that would void your contract, you would probably have to leave the Box here, but after all you've seen... it could be worth it to know what you had been carrying.<<else>><div class="comppurp">Connection with assigned Wardrobe established. Present key to unlock.</div> Key? <<if $Pock.includes('Box Key')>>You found just such a key in Jacq's room!<<else>>You have no such key, but perhaps you should keep an eye out for one?<</if>><</if>> <<if $Back is 1 or $Pock.includes('Box Key')>>[[Open it!->OpenBox]] [[Opening that box would void your delivery fee, no way.->CSuite2]]<<else>>[[Turn off that light. Where is that key?->CSuite2]]<</if>> <</if>>

There was always danger in accessing computers and networks, data tracing and tracking was common. But you push on anyway, curiosity driving you further. As your fingers alight upon the haptic keyboard near the bottom of the screens, you try to pick through the information available to you. Already the biometrics have stood out, but you go further, digging into any link or noted subsystem available. There are plenty. <<if $Back is 1>>As a pilot the control mechanisms draw your interest, and while you're disappointed to see them locked out to your access, even just the labels provide plenty of information. There is mention of restraint controls, breath regulation, plug settings...<<elseif $Back is 2>>Your investigative eyes draws you towards a panel popup that speaks of "reprogramming", a technical term of little interest until your skimming lands upon all manner of references to 'submission levels', 'modesty suppression', and 'inhibition removal'.<<else>>Ignoring the data itself, you find yourself increasingly interested in //how// the programs evident are written. Pulling up diagnostics and debugging consoles, you find yourself looking at base code that is... terrifying familiar. The almost violently efficient coding, the compiler even your experienced eyes cannot begin to understand, the almost esoteric ways data is weaved together... the work of an AI?<</if>> Glancing again to the strange black... thing nearby, your eyes settle upon what seemed to be a label for it all: <div class="comppurp">REPROGRAMMING CELL</div> And then you notice it: a command near the bottom of the panel you're currently on, mercifully free of restrictions. <div class="comppurp">View Subject?</div> [[Press that button.->ContralPan3]] [[Check one of the other monitors.->OtherMonitor]] [[No way! Step back immediately!->CSuite2]]

Moving to the panel to your left, you find it to be much the same as the first. The only difference, at least to your eyes, is the Subject mentioned to be installed within. This one holds ''Subject 11.'' Just to cover your bases, you check the furthest too. It was supposed to be holding a ''Subject 15'', although a rather bold warning across most of the control surface notes that said subject was not within. Fifteen is the highest you've see, perhaps whatever that was simply had not been located yet? Or installed? You really do not have enough information to draw further conclusions. [[For now, step back and away.->CSuite2]]

Curiosity had sent you to exploring the halls of this cursed Embassy, and it had led to your entombment in the suit now enclosing you completely. What harm could one more dive into the unknown do? Reaching out, you press your gloved fingers against the prompted button to open "your cell". With a dangerous hiss the black monolith before you cracks open, a seam appearing amongst its slightly glossy exterior where there had been none. Splitting directly down the middle, it opens like an obsidian maw, the light of the monitoring panels casting a slightly violet light into what was otherwise darkness. Leaning forward, you gaze into the depths of Torean peculiarity. What you find is a thickly padded interior, a curious touch confirming it was more laminate, as black as your suit. A mostly human-shaped silhouette is cut into that padding, in a strict posture with legs spread, bent forward at the waist with arms back. <<if $FoundRepro is true>>You have seen this pose before, of course, in the figure of the person you had observed in another of the cells.<<else>>Imagining the cell closed once more you can only imagine how uncomfortable such a position would be.<</if>> Several restraints are visible as well, slack straps at ankle, thigh, and waist, with something for the arms you suppose looking like a laminate bag of some sort. Other waiting accessories are less clear in their intended use, tubes running near where the inhabitants thighs would meet for instance. Just what those could be used for is interrupted by a blinking message upon your visor's HUD. <div class="comppurp">Compliant Slaves May Be Allowed to Cum.</div> Altogether... altogether it looks like nothing less than a hellish tomb crossed with strange and unthinkable fetishes. And the system that operated it had called this... //your// cell. Could you imagine yourself in such a place? Locked into a strict stance, incapable of moving, when the doors closed? There would be no light inside, no chance to escape... <<if $Arou lt 100>>@@color:purple;You would have to be mad, or utterly aroused, to even contemplate this further.@@<<else>>@@color:purple;...lurid thoughts of that sort dance in your mind, your frustrated body slavering like someone starved and offered food, no matter how rancid. Certainly... certainly you weren't considering actually... actually entering the cell, are you?@@ @@color:yellow;Maybe you should. It is your cell, where //you belong. And you so do want to cum.//@@<</if>> [[For now, step away. Look at one of the panels nearby.->ControlPan]] <<if $Arou gt 99>>[[Enter your cell.->CellEnter]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'reprocell.png']] <<set $FoundRepro to true>> You had expected the... box? ...//cell?// to open, but instead a fresh panel flicks open. What greets you is so strange to your eyes that it takes you a moment to understand just what you're looking at. All that glossy material, smooth and curved. Pulled tight at a... waist, and there was... a mask. A human. You're looking at a human! The constraints of the space within the black cell don't fully reveal the figure, but you glimpse enough to see a woman in full and undeniable bondage. A set of straps are securing her to a frame built into the back of the cell, keeping her legs spread, her feet perched atop tall stiletto heels. Her waist is strictly corseted, forming a curvaceous hourglass offset by the bold expanse of her chest, thrust out as it is by her posture, bent slightly forward. That seems to be to allow for her arms, locked as they are behind her back into a singular glove or restrainer of some sort. Of a face however, an identity, you cannot find any. She has no mouth to scream, no eyes to see, both are occluded by the black of her suit. Not that seeing would have been altogether useful, as you notice the camera looking in upon her is set to a low-light mode. There is no light inside the cell. <<if $Gear lt 3>>You step back without thinking,<<else>>You step back without thinking, your own heels clicking against the floor,<</if>> trying to grapple with what you've seen. Ambassador Sargon owned slaves, you've seen that. But this seems something else altogether. That level of restraint, sealed inside that container-like cell... was she abducting people? Transporting them? What is going on!? [[Try to free the woman!->FreeCell]] [[What if... you were in such a cell?->ThinkCell]] [[Check one of the other monitors.->OtherMonitor]] [[Close all opened panels, time to leave!->CSuite2]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'reprocell.png']] Returning to the console with new vigor, you search out anything like a release control, an opening mechanism. Pouring through the panels and subsystems open to you, it takes a bit, but you do eventually find one-- and push it immediately. <div class="compred">Access Denied.</div> //Shit!// You try a bit longer, searching for a way to release that poor woman, but it proves to be a fruitless endeavor-- little thought had been given to allowing access to the monitoring suite, but anything like actual control access is strictly locked down. You don't see anything like a keycard reader here either, as the doorway up to this level had used. You don't see a path forward, not now at least. <<if $Back is 2>>But this is //incredible// evidence for your investigation into the Ambassador. All you need to do now is escape the Embassy to use it.<<else>>But this throws a serious potential wrench into your reason for being here. Certainly... certainly Sargon wouldn't attempt any such thing on you, right?<</if>> For now, you can only close out the panels, deep in thought. [[The image of the Subject winks out of existence.->CSuite2]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'reprocell.png']] <<set $Arou += 25>>@@.addarou;+25 Arousal!@@ Now was //not// the time for fantasies, and yet... you look at the monitor again, and imagine yourself in such a situation. <<if $Gear gt 2>>You already were wearing laminate, after all.<<else>>Totally encapsulated in laminate.<</if>> Bound strictly, locked inside that box-like cell, in turn locked inside that suit, undergoing... who knew what. Gagged, blindfolded, entirely helpless... <<if $Arou gt 99>>Your already enflamed desires only push higher, wildly peaking. It is hard to think straight as you stare at that image, and that woman, and find your hands drifting down to your waist. Were you really going to...? [[Yes.->CellCum]]<<elseif $Arou gt 74>>You cannot help but stare, your desire building rapidly, almost ready to peak. Were you always like this? Or was Torean laminate simply awakening something within you? That woman was a prisoner of some sort, undergoing who knew what kind of torture! Either way, you only barely retain enough self-control to eventually reach out, closing the opened window.<<elseif $Arou gt 49>>You stare, surprising yourself. That woman was bound, restrained, a prisoner of some sort... and yet that excites you. How? Why? They are questions you grapple with before eventually reaching out, closing the window.<<else>>The thought of being in such a situation intrigues you, but your arousal is low enough you do not linger long. You have other concerns, other things to do, and your absence from the conference room could still be noted at any moment. Best to move on.<</if>> <<if $Arou lt 100>>[[You step back and away.->CSuite2]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'reprocell.png']] <<if $Gear gt 2>>Decency and rational thought abandon you as you reach down to your skirt. The laminate is tight around your thighs, impeding your efforts, but by pulling the stretchy material up somewhat you manage to reach the meeting of your legs, where you lack panties. There <<if $Gender is 1>>your manhood awaits, thick and eager for attention. Providing it immediately, your hand encircling your member, you look back up to the projected image.<<else>>your cunt awaits, slick and eager for attention. Providing it immediately, your fingers sliding into your lips, you look back up to the projected image.<</if>> Were you always into this sort of thing? Hard to say, but the corset around your waist does make you somewhat like the woman in that camera feed. You're in laminate too, the slick material shifting along your arms as you work quickly to satiate yourself. It doesn't take long, primed as you are.<<else>>Decency and rational thought abandon you as you reach down to your jumpsuit, seeking out the meeting of your legs. Uncovering yourself, despite the blatantly public nature of this room, your find <<if $Gender is 1>>your manhood awaits, thick and eager for attention. Providing it immediately, your hand encircling your member, you look back up to the projected image.<<else>>your cunt awaits, slick and eager for attention. Providing it immediately, your fingers sliding into your lips, you look back up to the projected image.<</if>> Were you always so horny? Hard to say, but it doesn't take long to sate your desires, primed as you are.<</if>> <<set $Arou to 0>>@@.minarou;Arousal Reset!@@ Panting in the aftermath, you adjust your outfit, trying to collect yourself-- when you notice marks upon the floor. In your excitement you had... well... at least the room is dark? It might go unnoticed, you hope, as you step away. <<set $CellCum to true>> [[Get a hold of yourself!->CSuite2]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromask.png']] Curiosity-- or arousal-- gets the better of you. Inch by inch you lift the mask, until you feel the slick material sliding against your cheeks. There you pause for a moment, hesitating just slightly, before your lips separate and you allow the built-in cock to slide inside your wet mouth. It fills you to capacity, a growing danger of gagging only barely avoided by the member hilting within you, your lips pressing against the front of the mask. As your tongue explores the intruder you notice taking it all in had aligned the mask perfectly, your vision now reduced to the shaded view allowed by the visor. You can see the small blinking text projected there too... <div class="comppurp">Locking...</div> Wait-- what? You barely have a chance to understand what the word implied before the visor darkens, plunging you into absolute darkness. You gasp even as the various straps loosely arranged across your head engage suddenly, each of them pulling tight. As they do your breath is suddenly obstructed, the air you had been pulling in from the looseness of it all replaced by sudden stricture. Your gasp turns into a wheeze as you double over, pulling at the mask, the cock between your lips ensuring you can only inhale through your nose. @@.addbox;Reprogramming Mask Equipped!@@ <<run $Inv.push('Reprogramming Mask')>> "[[Mmmmmgh!->Mask2]]"

<<set $BoxMeet to true>>With a silent hiss, <<if $Back is 2>>the Box you had transported across the galaxy<<else>>the strange box<</if>> opens... <<if $Back is 2>> @@.minbox;The Box Removed!.@@ <<run $Pock.delete("The Box")>> <</if>> Beneath the glow of the solitary desk lamp you had turned on, you see a seam emerge as if from nothing, splitting along the top as the Box opens like a silent maw. There are no valuables inside, no secret treaures, but something unexpected-- unless of course you remembered you were in a Torean Embassy. Black on black, you have to reach in, gingerly, pull forth a midnight mystery. Sleek and glossy, it is... a mask. [img[setup.ImagePath+'repromask.png']] <<if $Back is 2>>Why in the hell would so many credits have been spent to have you transport this?<<else>>Why would such a secure looking Box be used to hold... something like this?<</if>> Holding it up into the light, you look it over. It is rendered in black laminate, even the visor appears to be some sort of hardened semi-transparent variant of the stuff. The back is thin, clearly intended to hug the head, with straps emerging to securely hold the front visor, large enough to cover from forehead to chin. You cannot know how heavy those filters look, but it certainly seemed like it would be difficult to breathe in, a fact furthered by what you find when you turn it over, looking into the interior. An interior portion covered the nose and mouth, and there emerging into the space where the mouth would be... <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ A thick phallus! It juts out at full attention, the placement undeniably requiring it be put into one's mouth to wear the mask. How... lewd! Around it is nothing but smooth laminate, softly contoured. Almost inviting... and as you peer in further you see something else, only visible while looking through the visor from this side. Some sort of... violet text? Its too small to make out without actually putting the whole ensemble upon your head... <<if $Arou gt 60>>@@color:yellow;You could do it, even if it meant taking that cock into your mouth. Just to see what that text said, of course...@@<<else>>@@color:yellow;You're not aroused enough to even consider doing that!@@<</if>> <<if $Arou gt 60>>[[Put on the mask...->MaskOn]] [[There is nothing here for you, turn off the light and step away.->CSuite2]]<<else>>[[There is nothing here for you, turn off the light and step away.->CSuite2]]<</if>>

You nearly fall over as you stumble widely, your fingers running along the mask's straps, trying to find some give. But the slick laminate they were constructed of now presses tightly into the equally slick material of the hood, the impossibility of your intentions becoming clear, especially as your fingers land upon something you hadn't noticed previously: a small bit of metal, square-shaped with a loop hooked into one of the straps. //A padlock.// <div class="comppurp">Subject #15 acquired. Release?</div> Your struggling is interrupted by the words that appear before your vision, projected upon what you could consider to be the mask's HUD. Inhaling heavily, still trying to get a rhythm down when every breath felt like it was drawn in through a straw, you see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Release! Yes! But how could you communicate something like that? <<if $Back is 1>>You know of some fighter jocks using ocular indication in their fancy helmets,<<else>>Tapping your hands against the visor does nothing,<</if>> which leaves only speech-- and the cock installed in mouth largely prevents that. You doubt even screaming achieved much, the echo in your helmet muted by the laminate surrounding you. Even so, the HUD updates after just a moment. <div class="comppurp">Confirmed.</div> Confirmed? What did that mean?! You lack the means to ask, but something does change moment later-- your vision returns. Sort of. Instead of the shaded world you had glimpsed through the visor, you're not treated to a simple blip of light, perhaps a dozen steps away. As you turn your head the light disappears, replaced by an indicator that moves along the edge of your visor, the light impossible to ignore for long. It was fixed in the world outside this damn mask, then. A waypoint? <<if $Pock.includes('Embassy Keycard')>><<set $Strike2 to 1>><</if>> [[Follow it.->Mask3]] [[There has to be something nearby to remove this mask!->RemoveMask]]

Stepping carefully, wary of bumping into anything nearby, you inch towards the waypoint on the mask's HUD. Breathing is still difficult but you're getting better at it, although the effort required is substantial regardless. More readily, you're at least confident in your direction-- you're moving further into the room. The wall should be coming up soon, but the waypoint is very close now. Two more steps, one more... You feel yourself step not onto another portion of the floor, but something tiled. Trying to visualize the room, you plot on where you've been led, even as you reach out, your hands suddenly finding a curved, tiled wall. <<if $Gear gt 2>>The only thing you've seen that has been tiled here... is a Wardrobe Device!<<else>>Where the hell are you!?<</if>> The sudden whisk of something closing behind you is combined with the waypoint disappearing, and your vision returning. You glance around, eager to get your bearings, even if it is difficult through the visor of the mask. You're in a small cylinder-like room, floor and walls tiled. The door behind you has closed, even as some of the more strangely-shaped tiles suddenly lift out of the way. <<if $Gear gt 2>>[[Arms emerge...->SecMask4]]<<else>>[[Arms emerge...->JumpMask4]]<</if>>

Blinded by the mask's removal of your sight, you grope around without much success. You smack your wrist on the lamp nearby, and bump several of the other Boxes upon the table. But you had seen no tools nearby before putting on the mask, and now that it is on your options are rather limited. You barely remember the layout of the room, much less that of the hallways and other such things beyond. Wandering around without direction or purpose would achieve absolutely nothing. That only leaves the little marker, the singular point of light still emerging from your mask. You don't really have a choice. [[Follow it.->Mask3]]

<<if $Gender is 1>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromale.png']]<<else>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repro.jpg']]<</if>> It is //hard//. Far harder than you would have thought possible, just a few hours ago. But you manage to hold yourself from reaching down, to the meeting of your legs. <<if $Gender is 1>>Your cock may press against its laminate prison, but you resist only making it worse. Instead of touching your aching bulge, you instead bite down harder on your gag, and push yourself off from the wall.<<else>>Your cunt is sealed, after all. Touching it only made things worse-- you doubt you could ever get satisfaction yourself. Instead you bite down harder on your gag, and push yourself off from the wall.<</if>> How did you ever get yourself into this situation? <<set $DoorCheck to true>> [[The only thing you can do is head down the stairs.->2ndFloorDoor]]

<<if $Gender is 1>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromale.png']]<<else>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repro.jpg']]<</if>> <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ You can't help yourself. <<if $Gender is 1>>Gloved fingers find the smooth bulge that contained your sealed away cock, raging for attention, yet so impotent behind so much inflated laminate. Even so you rub at it, pressing into the material, trying to achieve satisfaction. With your back to the wall you spread your legs, giving better access, as you bite down harder on your gag-- moaning softly.<<else>>Gloved fingers find the smooth material between your legs, the harder material keeping you from accessing your own sexuality, despite the raging desire so barely contained by the black laminate. With your back to the wall you spread your legs, giving better access, as you bite down harder on your gag-- moaning softly.<</if>> Your @@color:yellow;arousal@@ builds, your mind drifting towards lewd things... thinking of your laminate, of the multitude of locks upon your uniform, how you lack a key to //any// of them... but you never achieve anything like release. Only a furthering of desire. Damn. <<set $DoorCheck to true>> [[The only thing you can do now is head down the stairs.->2ndFloorDoor]]

<<if $Gender is 1>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromale.png']]<<else>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repro.jpg']]<</if>> <<set $Arou += 15>>@@.addarou;+15 Arousal!@@ You so shiny, so glossy. A laminate creature, locked in and so very //horny//. You can't help yourself. <<if $Gender is 1>>Gloved fingers find the smooth bulge that contained your sealed away cock, raging for attention, yet so impotent behind so much inflated laminate. Even so you rub at it, pressing into the material, trying to achieve satisfaction. With your back to the wall you spread your legs, giving better access, as you bite down harder on your gag-- moaning softly.<<else>>Gloved fingers find the smooth material between your legs, the harder material keeping you from accessing your own sexuality, despite the raging desire so barely contained by the black laminate. With your back to the wall you spread your legs, giving better access, as you bite down harder on your gag-- moaning softly.<</if>> Your @@color:yellow;arousal@@ builds, your mind drifting towards lewd things... thinking of your laminate, of the multitude of locks upon your uniform, how you lack a key to //any// of them... but you never achieve anything like release. Only a furthering of desire. Yet you try even further, turning to face the wall, hands upon it as you spread your legs, bending over. The posture is so lewd, but it allows you to reach down again, this time <<if $Gender is 1>>pressing your palm into the plug installed in your rear, trying to drive it deeper within you. Your suit was built to thwart just such adventurism, however, and it budges only a bit-- enough to further your @@color:yellow;arousal@@, but not enough to give let you cum.<<else>>fondling your own breasts, pinching and squeezing as much as reveling in the sensation of the stimulators built into the suit. Like a thousand small pinpricks, they ensure your nipples are always rock hard, but also make //any// pressure upon your breasts deliriously delightful. But not enough to allow you to cum.<</if>> You end up panting, whining into your gag as you shake your hips, frustrated and horny. Damn this suit! <<set $DoorCheck to true>> [[The only thing you can do now is head down the stairs.->2ndFloorDoor]]

You've ridden this particular bull once before, so to speak, but it doesn't make the experience any less of a rodeo. As before you're grasped in a half dozen different places by the ending arms, your intentions or consent ignored as the machine lifts you bodily in the air. The only difference this time, minimal is it might be, is the way your skirt prevents your legs from being spread-- but the Wardrobe is quick to address that. Several wand-like arms being moving across your body, occasionally flicking on a bright white light. When reflected by your laminate it seems to have an immediate effect, the smooth, tight, and glossy material instantly crinkling and going dull, as if it had somehow dried out. Once enough of your suit had been thus damaged chunks begin falling away, quite quickly returning you to a state of nudity. On one hand you have to marvel at the efficiency of the design, especially as the Wardrobe seems to collect the remnants, presumably for recycling. But you cannot help but wonder what would happen if someone deployed such a light while you were somewhere less private...? <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>At least it had removed your bondage mitts! You should be able to grab things again, if this infernal machine ever released you...<</if>> <<set $Gear to 0>><<set $Inv to []>><<set $Pock to []>>@@.minbox;Outfit Removed!@@ Just what have you gotten yourself into? The @@color:purple;fear within you drops your arousal a bit.@@ <<set $Arou -= 20>>@@.minarou;-20 Arousal!@@ <div class="comp">De-clothing Complete. Beginning Outfit Construction, Schematic: Reprogramming Suit"</div> Its something of a fight to keep your eyes open as the process continues, your nude form briefly sprayed down with a mist that dries away-- cleaning-- before the large halo-like armature descends all around you. From it a whole new series of smaller arms emerge, small nozzle-like tips twitching with expectation as the Wardrobe begins to quite literally print your new outfit onto you. Unlike your jumpsuit, and pretty much every other outfit you've ever worn, this one is not formed from textiles, however-- it is *laminate*, in all its glossy, gleaming glory. Running downward, printing and flash-forming with an honestly impressive accuracy, your flesh is overtaken by a pure and absolute black. From heel to waist to throat the material is applied to you, form a suit that strips away anything like individuality. Still wearing the mask, you are now wholly a laminate creature, the material taut even as you twist in the restraints. [[If you were hoping for that to be the end, you are severely mistaken.->JumpMask6]]

Two metallic arms are extended from panels shifted aside, each tipped with a glossy looking cuff that had just been placed around your ankles. With a yank they force your legs wide, and even begin lifting-- you're quickly about to lose your footing! A second pair of armatures arrive just in time to seize your wrists, securing a further set of cuffs there, which they use to straighten you out. <div class="comp">Compliant Slave Detected. <<if $Gender is 1>>Good Boy.<<else>>Good Girl.<</if>></div> The synthetic sounding voice comes from the machine itself, which promptly makes good on its promise, fully lifting you from the floor as the restraints on your arms draw you back up to a standing position-- and then beyond. You're stretched out spread eagle, your limbs pulled until your muscles start to protest, as all around you a dozen more armatures emerge from different panels. The largest, which you heard previously, proves to be a large halo of sorts, wide enough to encircle you completely. Just what have you gotten yourself into? The @@color:purple;fear within you drops your arousal a bit.@@ <<set $Arou -= 20>>@@.minarou;-20 Arousal!@@ "[[Let me go!->JumpMask5]]" "[[Help! Anyone!->JumpMask5]]" [[Remain silent.->JumpMask5]]

Several new arms provide the one thing the machine apparently couldn't print: metal components, in this instance a set of long thin bands embedded in the laminate at your waist, alongside a set of busks that hook together at the front, allowing the vice-like garment to be open. By the time it concludes, a fresh corset sits loosely around your waist-- until the laces are seized, and the Wardrobe begins to pull. Bit by bit, inch by inch, it tightens the corset. <<if $Gender is 1>>You've never worn //anything// like this, making the sensation altogether strange, an intense embrace around your waist that you cannot shake.<<else>>The galaxy had long abandoned such pieces of fashion, at least in most instances, and you've never worn something like this-- but you quickly find the intense embrace around your waist... interesting, although the way it forces your chest out even further does flush your cheeks anew.<</if>> @@.addbox;Underbust Corset Equipped!@@<<run $Inv.push('Underbust Corset')>> There the halo-like ring withdraws, but //still// the Wardrobe is not done. The arms holding you aloft keep you strictly spread, but they do return you to the ground, carefully aligning your bare feet-- just in time for the floor to rise. Or so it seems. In reality a pair of boots are almost extruded from the floor, black laminate wrapping around your feet and ankles, integrating with the cuffs still secured there. You're forced upon your toes, <<if $Gender is 1>>an entirely new experience,<<else>>a new experience given how tall they are,<</if>> by six inch stiletto heels. @@.addbox;Stiletto Boots Equipped!@@<<run $Inv.push('Stiletto Boots')>> Almost as an afterthought the various encircling arms of the wardrobe retreat, some moving up, some moving down. At throat and wrists and ankles they collect again, flash-printing something new upon your already burdened form: bands of thicker laminate, just as black as the rest of your suit. To each are affixed small d-shaped rings, undoubtedly intended for attaching any manner of things. @@.addbox;Cuff and Collar Set Equipped!@@<<run $Inv.push('Cuff and Collar Set')>> <<if $Gender is 1>>[[A final touch...->MaleSuit]]<<else>>[[A final touch...->FemaleSuit]]<</if>>

You wriggle in your new laminate ensemble, but the Wardrobe's whirling arms and nodules only spin anew with fresh intent. What could you do in response? Scream? Not with the cock gag installed within your throat, the very same you had so willfully slid into place. Were things progressing how you had expected? What had you been thinking? Just that sort of thing, *thinking*, is dissuaded by the momentary loss of attention. When it returns you find the Wardrobe having moved down to a most precarious of positions-- the meeting of your thighs. To your brief horror you find it actually //removing// the laminate it had just just so carefully applied, a bright flash of light turning a portion of the the slick, tight material into a withered and dull thing that falls away to the floor. The "cut" made in your suit is effectively surgical, forming a rectangular patch of now exposed flesh from just below your navel, down between your legs, to the top of the cleft of your rear. Embarrassingly your manhood stands rigidly at attention, momentarily freed from its laminate prison. Just what the machine intended is made clear by the rising of a new component, already pre formed-- and quite frightening, as you look down upon a sizeable cock being propelled directly for your rear. Your consent is not asked, your feelings not considered as the machine continues upon its programmed path, and begins to install the intruder directly into your waiting rear. You surge forward in response, the purpose of the window cut into your suit now so obviously clear. Slowly, carefully, but undeniably the thick laminate cock is slide further and further into your waiting hole, the smooth manhood filling your rear entrance in its entirety. By the time it finally bottoms out, its bulbous tip so deep within, you're grateful for the restraints holding you aloft-- otherwise you may very well have collapsed. Panting through your mask, you open your eyes once more, looking throw the restricted view of your visor... and see a fresh message waiting for you. <div class="comppurp">Male Anatomy Identified. Installing Chastity Mechanism "Null Bulge"</div> [[W-What now..?->MaleSuit2]]

You wriggle in your new laminate ensemble, but the Wardrobe's whirling arms and nodules only spin anew with fresh intent. What could you do in response? Scream? Not with the cock gag installed within your throat, the very same you had so willfully slid into place. Were things progressing how you had expected? What had you been thinking? Just that sort of thing, *thinking*, is dissuaded by the momentary loss of attention. When it returns you find the Wardrobe having moved down to a most precarious of positions-- the meeting of your thighs. To your brief horror you find it actually //removing// the laminate it had just just so carefully applied, a bright flash of light turning a portion of the the slick, tight material into a withered and dull thing that falls away to the floor. The "cut" made in your suit is effectively surgical, forming a rectangular patch of now exposed flesh from just below your navel, down between your legs, to the top of the cleft of your rear. Embarrassingly womanhood now stands exposed once more, a bit of desire dripping down onto the floor like so much drool. Just what the machine intended is made clear by the rising of a new component, already pre formed-- and quite frightening, as you look down upon a sizeable pair of cocks being propelled directly for your waiting holes. Your consent is not asked, your feelings not considered as the machine continues upon its programmed path, and begins to install the intruders directly into your waiting cunt and rear. You surge forward in response, the purpose of the window cut into your suit now so obviously clear. Slowly, carefully, but undeniably the thick laminate cocks slide further and further into your waiting holes, the smooth pair of manhoods filling you in a manner you've never experienced before. By the time they finally bottom out, their bulbous tips so deep within, you're grateful for the restraints holding you aloft-- otherwise you may very well have collapsed. Panting through your mask, you open your eyes once more, looking threw the restricted view of your visor... and see a fresh message waiting for you. <div class="comppurp">Female Anatomy Identified. Installing Chastity Mechanism "Slut Guard"</div> [[W-What now..?->FemaleSuit2]]

Lost in the madness of the experience, you almost don't notice the next piece of your suit rising. The promised "null bulge" appears to be a rounded piece of laminate, visually much akin to a codpiece, but you can only imagine its purpose with a name like that would be far more intense indeed. Brought up directly level with your cock however, the Wardrobe pauses, its various untasked arms twisting and twirling as if in thought. <div class="comppurp">Advanced Arousal Detected. Addressing.</div> Just what //that// could mean is revealed quickly, as the Wardrobe arms that had placed your rear insert into place now seize its base again-- and promptly pull it out half way. Your tortured hole responds with a flood of relief, and a rather surprising amount of pleasure at the strange sensation-- both of which are overridden by shock as the cock is suddenly pushed back into you again. The feeling of its girth once more entering you is... more pleasurable than you would have thought possible, especially when deep within you the device suddenly starts to //vibrate!// On cue, your mask lights up again with fresh instructions. <div class="comppurp">You have permission to cum when ready, Subject #15.</div> <<set $Strike to 0>> [[C-Cum...?->MBater]]

Lost in the madness of the experience, you almost don't notice the next piece of your suit rising. The promised "slut guard" appears to be a curved piece of hardened laminate, clearly intended to be placed between your legs, a hardened guard against any wandering hands. Brought up directly level with your cunt however, the Wardrobe pauses, its various untasked arms twisting and twirling as if in thought. <div class="comppurp">Advanced Arousal Detected. Addressing.</div> Just what //that// could mean is revealed quickly, as the Wardrobe arms that had placed your rear insert into place now seize its base again-- and promptly pull it out half way. Your tortured hole responds with a flood of relief, and a rather surprising amount of pleasure at the strange sensation-- both of which are overridden by shock as the cock is suddenly pushed back into you again. The feeling of its girth once more entering you is... more pleasurable than you would have thought possible, especially when deep within you the device suddenly starts to //vibrate!// On cue, your mask lights up again with fresh instructions. <div class="comppurp">You have permission to cum when ready, Subject #15.</div> <<set $Strike to 0>> [[C-Cum...?->MBater]]

<<nobr>><<set $Strike +=1>><<set $Arou += 5>> <<if $Arou gt 99>>In sweet, sweet harmony with your rampant desires, you feel the slick cock in you rear slide out... only for it to be rammed back home with an immediacy that sees your legs tremble and your eyes roll. Sucking eagerly on the cock installed into your mouth, you wriggle your hips, tensing up as a cacophony of pleasure overtakes you. You cum, wildly, <<if $Gender is 1>>your cock splurting thick seed upon the wall of the Wardrobe before you.<<else>>your cunt dripping with rampant desire onto the floor beneath you.<</if>> There is nothing dignified in this process, no way for your frazzled mind to understand this as anything more than deeply humiliating. You're bound spread-eagled, being fucked in the ass by a jackhammer like cock, with 95% of your body still sealed in gleaming black laminate. <br> <br> This is not how you would have guessed this day was going to proceed. <br> <br> <<set $Arou to 0>>@@.minarou;Orgasm!@@ <br> <br> In the aftermath you hang limply in your restraints, breathing as heavily as you could manage through your mask. <<if $Gender is 1>>Your eager cock is in much the same condition, momentarily flaccid as you trying to collect yourself.<<else>>Your breasts rise and fall with each inhalation, glossy and tightly held by the confines of your suit.<</if>> In that moment rest would have undoubtedly felt wonderful, but you're still very much in the grasp of the machine, and it is not yet done with you. <br> <br> <div class="comppurp">Subject Arousal Addressed. Sealing into Chastity.</div> <br> <<if $Gender is 1>>[[You're too exhausted to fight it now.->MaleSuit3]]<<else>>[[You're too exhausted to fight it now.->FemaleSuit3]]<</if>> <<else>> <<if $Strike is 1>>Your grunt into your gag as your rear intruder is again pulled from your rear, the sensation of its retreat sending a shiver down your back-- all the more because it is now vibrating, the purr against your inner walls enough to see you sucking upon the cock lodged between your teeth. As you struggle to figure out just what was happening, and incidentally pull against the restraints holding you up and exposed, you're once more surprised by the cock in your ass being shoved back all the way in. Working like a dildo... you must admit it feels good.<br> <<elseif $Strike is 2>>This time you're almost ready for the movement of the intruder as it pulls out again, hesitating only momentarily before it plunges back in. You moan loudly into your gag, your laminate-coated hips dancing, but the Wardrobe does a rather stellar job of holding you in place. There is no escaping this treatment.<br> <<elseif $Strike is 3>>Dropping into something like a rhythm, your body is subjected to another round of the intruder being pulled forth, then rammed back into place. Reflected light runs across your bound form as you sway in the grasp of the Wardrobe, for the first time at least not tensing up. That helps the intruder go in easier, and in turn you find it to be all the more pleasurable... <br> <<elseif $Strike is 4>>Did you bend over just a bit, as far as you could, to present yourself more readily for the plug that once more slams into your rear? Or perhaps that was merely the Wardrobe at work. Yes, yes, that is a better explanation. The other option would suggest that you were coming to enjoy this experience, even as you sway further in the restraints holding you aloft. <br> <<elseif $Strike is 5>>Moaning wetly as the Wardrobe continues its rhythmic work, you nevertheless struggle to pull in enough oxygen through the restriction your masked placed upon you. That difficulty only seems to make the whole experience //more// compelling, however, a realization that sees you about to blush-- until your cheeks flare with renewed embarrassment anyway as the hammer-like cock slides in and out once more. <br> <<elseif $Strike is 6>>You're starting lose count of how many times the machine had violated you, but the effect is undeniable-- you're growing more @@color:yellow;aroused@@ with each stroke of the armature powering your rear deflowering. What kind of madhouse had you stumbled into? Were you regretting having put on that mask, or were you... reveling in it? Either way, you gag almost eagerly on the cock gag in your mouth, as its brother slides once more into your waiting rear. As your hips are pushed forward, your body swaying, you wriggle in eager delight... <br> <<else>>Again and again your rear is violated, the embarrassment of it all accompanied by an undeniable sense of growing pleasure. You squirm, you moan, and you must admit: your body likes this, regardless of what your mind thought of the matter. <br><</if>> <br> @@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ <br> <br> [[The dildo continues its assault...->MBater]] <</if>><</nobr>>

It is almost as an afterthought that the final piece of your suit is installed, now that you had been deemed ready. Your manhood, momentarily spent and with a bit of cum drooling from its tip, is gently grasped by an armature and cleaned. That enough is almost enough to break you from the afterglow, but with the return of rationality comes the realization that could be dangerous-- that arm holding your member is metal, after all. Gently guiding your cock up into place, the null bulge is then pressed into place, aligning perfectly with your suit. Instead of anything horrific you are, rather surprisingly, treated to nothing more than the smooth sensation of further laminate enveloping your manhood. That //is enough to send a trickle of arousal back into your cock, a threat to the laminate bulge now between your legs, no matter how thick. Until it inflates, of course. Instead of air another of the Wardrobe's graspers appears to inject a gel or some sort into the void between the chamber holding your cock, and the outer shell of the bulge itself. That only furthers the strangeness of it all, but quickly you feel almost as if your member had been packed in, the thick and unyielding gel that surrounds it dampening your arousal-- your cock is held impotently in place. Looking down you see a lock-like symbol emblazoned upon the laminate, your numbed mind struggling to process everything. Somewhere in the background you barely notice your suit being resealed and completed. [img[setup.ImagePath+'nullbulge.png']] @@.addbox;Null Bulge and Plug Equipped.@@ <<run $Inv.push('Null Bulge and Plug')>> <<if $LateSlave is false>>[[And with that, the arms begin to slide away...->EndSuit]]<<else>><<link "And with that, the arms begin to slide away..." "LateMaskReturn">><</link>><</if>>

It is almost as an afterthought that the final piece of your suit is installed, now that you had been deemed ready. Both plugs intended for your use are once more slid into place, this time with finality. That enough is almost enough to break you from the afterglow, but with the return of rationality comes the realization that too much movement could be dangerous-- they still are unattached to your suit. The Wardrobe fixes that in short order, the C-like shape of the "slut guard" being perfectly aligned with the cut-out it had created earlier. A few additional runs of the laminate forming arms makes suit and guard one singular piece, without seam or any hint they had ever been separate. You're left with a cock in each hole, and a smooth expanse from your navel to the cleft of your rear. [img[setup.ImagePath+'plugs.png']] @@.addbox;Reprogramming Plugs Equipped!@@ <<run $Inv.push('Reprogramming Plugs')>> <<if $LateSlave is false>>[[And with that, the arms begin to slide away...->EndSuit]]<<else>><<link "And with that, the arms begin to slide away..." "LateMaskReturn">><</link>><</if>>

<<if $Gender is 1>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromale.png']]<<set $Gear to 6>><<else>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repro.jpg']]<<set $Gear to 5>><</if>> @@.addbox;Reprogramming Suit #15, Installed.@@ With a final distinctive hiss, the arms withdraw, and you are finally allowed to emerge back out into the gloomy darkness of the room you had entered seemingly so long ago. It had been only minutes, you presume, but looking down at yourself you feel as if you've been gone for days, or months. How else could you explain what you now look down upon? You're a //thing// of black laminate now, the curvature of the flesh beneath the tight material the only hint of your humanity. You have no face, just a black visor dark. No mouth to speak, only the sensation of a cock between your lips. And no way to escape-- not that you can immediately see, at least. Checking each portion of your suit, from the heeled boots to the corset at your waist, to the bands at your ankles, wrists, and throat, you find nothing but locks. Some of them appear to be cleverly designed mag-locks, a common galactic feature, small and thin enough you cannot even tell they are there without rubbing a gloved finger near a seal, to feel a slightly harder portion of suit. Others however, those at the back of your helmet, at your corset, and on your cuffs, are more obvious-- they are padlocks in the archaic style, simple steel with a hole for a key. A key you do not possess. That thought sees you gasp slightly to yourself, although all that does is remind you of the stricture of your mask. If every breath had been an effort before, it is now a continual struggle with the corset tightly secured around your waist. How... how were you supposed to do anything trussed up like this? You could never <<if $Back is 1>>make your delivery now. The Box is still where you left it, opened and discarded upon the table across the room.<<elseif $Back is 2>>hold a serious interview dressed in this manner, wearing... //clothes// that are not yours.<<else>>interview with the Ambassador, not in such a state.<</if>> You look more like some sort of perverse fetish doll than anything human, and besides, there was only one place you could have gotten an outfit like this anyway. Everyone would know you had roamed about the Embassy... if they didn't do... //something// far worse to you. What were these restraints upon your suit for, anyway? <<if $Strike2 is 1>> Your ruminations are broken by a slight ding from behind, a small panel having opened upon the Wardrobe machine. It spits out a little card, your gloved hands fumbling just a bit as you pick it up, trying to read it through the natural darkness of the poorly lit room, and the shaded nature of your visor. The Embassy Keycard you had been carrying... it had returned it. And nothing else. Great. @@.addbox;Embassy Keycard Added.@@<<run $Pock.push('Embassy Keycard')>><<set $Debt to 0>><<else>>Your ruminations are only interrupted by your realization that the machine had returned none of your carried items, either. Great.<</if>> [[A blinking light catches your eye...->EndSuit2]]

Your suit and circumstances may be strangely, debilitatingly new, but the room is as you left it-- quiet and dark. Except for the glow of the @@color:purple;violet@@ light nearby. Stepping towards it, your heeled boots clicking upon the floor and nearly sending you tumbling over as you struggle to acquaint yourself with wearing them, you catch yourself on the set of monitors nearby. Just beside them is the blinking light, midway up one of those strange black //things// of which there were three in the room. At your tepid approach it expands into a full dialogue box, sharing the same color and font as the messages that had appeared within your mask. <div class="comppurp">Welcome, Subject #15. Your cell is ready. Open?</div> [[Press the button to open...->OpenCell]] [[No way! Step back immediately!->EndSuiting]]

You've had too much of a new experience to handle anything else strange-- at least for the moment. You could always come back to that light anyway, it seems rather consistently to linger near one of the monitoring panels. [[For now, step back and away.->CSuite2]]

Hesitantly, you step forward. <<if $Gender is 1>>@@color:yellow;Your cock strains within the padded prison of your bulge, the promise of its frustration ending too much to ignore.@@<<else>>@@color:yellow;Your slickened cunt and the phallus locked within it aches, the promise of its frustration ending too much to ignore.@@<</if>> Hesitating for only a moment longer, your turn around, and back into the vaguely you-shaped outline within the cell's thick padding. Only then does your rational mind reassert itself, your masked head looking down, questioning just what the hell you were doing. //Your// cell? This suit was not yours, how could this-- <div class="comppurp">Good <<if $Gender is 1>>Boy.<<else>>Girl.<</if>></div> The sudden flash of words upon your mask heralds movement from behind, the confines of your mask making it hard to make out exactly what was happening-- but you certainly feel it. As if a dozen different hands had suddenly seized you, you're pulled back into the soft confines of the molded laminate. Only somewhat matching the shape of your body at first, you're surprised to see the material surrounding you shifting to your exact specifications, even as the various restraints snapping sharply into place. Ankles, thighs, a band at your hips, they encircle your body then pull in tightly, pressing you even further into the molded laminate now cupping your every curve. In response you begin to move your arms, but the laminate bag you had been brushing up against is already around them, and tightening quickly. Before you fully realize what is occurring your limbs are pulled tightly together, elbow to elbow, your shoulders already aching. The only remaining means of resistance comes naturally to you, as you bend forward at the waist, anything to escape the laminate now molded to your body, but that is //exactly// what the infernal device wanted. The laminate padding against your back expands immediately filling the space above your arms. No longer could you stand back up event if you had wanted to, the space now occupied, your bent-over posture enforced. [[Scream. Now!->ScreamCell]] [[Fight! Fight!->FightCell]] [[Everything is so delightfully tight...->TightCell]]

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'keycard.png']] ''Box Key:'' //a small glass-based access card, you found this one in Jacq's room, adorned with a label indicating it could be used to open the strange boxes found in Control Suite #2. Do you wonder at what those strange slick containers held within?// @@

Devoid of other options, you scream. For help? In terror? You're not sure, but either way it does you little good. The cock gag is still firmly locked inside your mouth, the quiet //mmmmmmgh// that escapes your mask sounding little more than a tepid moan. And no one is around to hear you. [img[setup.ImagePath+'reprocell.png']] Locked into the so-called cell, bent forward at the waist, your legs spread and your arms wrenched behind your back, you're perfectly helpless. Yet your cell is not yet complete. Slowly the doors you had opened now begin to close, your view out into //Control Suite #2// sliding into darkness as they glide silently shut. Fight, struggle, submit, it does not matter-- you can only watch as your cell closes, the padded portions approaching you having already adjusted to match your measurements. When the light of the world outside is finally eclipsed, when your world descends into darkness, you hear a final //click// as the door locks, and you are sealed inside. You inhale sharply in response, an involuntary reaction, only to find the laminate all around you now cutting into your supply of oxygen. For that brief moment, you cannot breath. <div class="comppurp">Attaching food pump, waste management, stim-leads, and oxygen tube.</div> The words appear upon the visor of your mask, their violet glow so much greater now in complete darkness. At least they prove accurate, the sensation of something snapping into place upon your helmet followed by a sudden rush of air-- still restrained by the nature of your mask and the corset around your waist, but strong and pure compared to what you had just tried to inhale before. Other connections are made to your suit, several between your legs, others across your body. Mag-connections, probably, but figuring out just what was going on is secondary to your real concern: //how would you get out? How long would you be kept like... this?// The system or... whatever it was that was controlling you now is silent on the first question, but seems to anticipate your second as you struggle in the dark. <div class="comppurp">Full restraint and installation complete. Subject #15 is secured. Loading training and programming cycles, estimated time for first session... 2.5 standard weeks.</div> [[Two and a half weeks!?->SuitTransfer]]

You fight with all the strength you have, writhing in the bondage that had encircled you. A minute passes, then two, and you find your progress to be... entirely nonexistent. The straps don't budge, your arms are still locked behind you, and you can't even stand up. [img[setup.ImagePath+'reprocell.png']] Locked into the so-called cell, bent forward at the waist, your legs spread and your arms wrenched behind your back, you're perfectly helpless. Yet your cell is not yet complete. Slowly the doors you had opened now begin to close, your view out into //Control Suite #2// sliding into darkness as they glide silently shut. Fight, struggle, submit, it does not matter-- you can only watch as your cell closes, the padded portions approaching you having already adjusted to match your measurements. When the light of the world outside is finally eclipsed, when your world descends into darkness, you hear a final //click// as the door locks, and you are sealed inside. You inhale sharply in response, an involuntary reaction, only to find the laminate all around you now cutting into your supply of oxygen. For that brief moment, you cannot breath. <div class="comppurp">Attaching food pump, waste management, stim-leads, and oxygen tube.</div> The words appear upon the visor of your mask, their violet glow so much greater now in complete darkness. At least they prove accurate, the sensation of something snapping into place upon your helmet followed by a sudden rush of air-- still restrained by the nature of your mask and the corset around your waist, but strong and pure compared to what you had just tried to inhale before. Other connections are made to your suit, several between your legs, others across your body. Mag-connections, probably, but figuring out just what was going on is secondary to your real concern: //how would you get out? How long would you be kept like... this?// The system or... whatever it was that was controlling you now is silent on the first question, but seems to anticipate your second as you struggle in the dark. <div class="comppurp">Full restraint and installation complete. Subject #15 is secured. Loading training and programming cycles, estimated time for first session... 2.5 standard weeks.</div> [[Two and a half weeks!?->SuitTransfer]]

Submissively, you let your mind wander. Escape comes a distant second in your mind to exploring your confines, to exploring the sensory delight of being so... intensely restrained. You're sealed in laminate, bound so heavily, and the Cell is not done yet. [img[setup.ImagePath+'reprocell.png']] Locked into the so-called cell, bent forward at the waist, your legs spread and your arms wrenched behind your back, you're perfectly helpless. Yet your cell is not yet complete. Slowly the doors you had opened now begin to close, your view out into //Control Suite #2// sliding into darkness as they glide silently shut. Fight, struggle, submit, it does not matter-- you can only watch as your cell closes, the padded portions approaching you having already adjusted to match your measurements. When the light of the world outside is finally eclipsed, when your world descends into darkness, you hear a final //click// as the door locks, and you are sealed inside. You inhale sharply in response, an involuntary reaction, only to find the laminate all around you now cutting into your supply of oxygen. For that brief moment, you cannot breath. <div class="comppurp">Attaching food pump, waste management, stim-leads, and oxygen tube.</div> The words appear upon the visor of your mask, their violet glow so much greater now in complete darkness. At least they prove accurate, the sensation of something snapping into place upon your helmet followed by a sudden rush of air-- still restrained by the nature of your mask and the corset around your waist, but strong and pure compared to what you had just tried to inhale before. Other connections are made to your suit, several between your legs, others across your body. Mag-connections, probably, but figuring out just what was going on is secondary to your real concern: //how would you get out? How long would you be kept like... this?// The system or... whatever it was that was controlling you now is silent on the first question, but seems to anticipate your second as you struggle in the dark. <div class="comppurp">Full restraint and installation complete. Subject #15 is secured. Loading training and programming cycles, estimated time for first session... 2.5 standard weeks.</div> [[Two and a half weeks!?->SuitTransfer]]

The last of the messages fade, and with their passing comes only darkness. You stare out into the lightless expanse beyond your mask, emulating infinity, but your rational mind knows the inner liner of the cell was all but pressed against the glass. Perhaps that rationality should have stepped up previously, prevented you from ending up in this situation? Now you have only black silence and your already complaining body to contend with. Your arms are pulled back and then upward, forcing you into the bent over posture you cannot escape. You can wriggle a bit, but there are no slack in your bindings, no hidden liberty. The same can be said for the bindings spreading your legs, pinning them to the back of the cell even as the rest encloses you in padded laminate. The pure oxygen you inhale with each breath is a singular note of kindness, but even then it comes only with effort on your part, and tinged with an undeniably strong scent of laminate. Was that the breathing tube connected to your mask, or perhaps a result of being entombed within so much of the material? You are in no position to tell, or to do anything else really beside wait and endure. For... weeks? Perhaps not. You cannot tell the passage of time in the perpetual darkness that surrounds you, but if you had to guess it had been twenty minutes or so before something changes. There is no sound from outside your box-like cell, so a hint that someone lurked outside is only provided when your cell's door suddenly begins to open again. Freedom comes in the form of a piercing light, your eyes already having started adjusting to darkness. You squint, for once thankful for the tinted nature of your mask's visor. [[Are you being... rescued?->SuitTran2]]

Entering Jacq's room, you find it to be much like the other one you had peeked into before. Small, cramped even, and relatively spartan. Either being a slave of the Ambassador afforded few luxuries, or they simply did not use these rooms often. Thankfully for your ever-present curiosity the room is not completely empty, with a small handful of things standing out to you. Several small containers are present on the nightstand beside the bed, the only apparent shelves in the stark white room. The bed itself is made up neatly, but the pillow is a bit askew. And then there is what looks to be a sliding panel up against the wall, above the bed. A storage area of some kind? [[Check out the small containers.->JacqContain]] [[Is something beneath that pillow?->Pillow]] [[Open the sliding panel.->PanelOpen]] <<if $Strike3 gt 1>>[[There has to be something more worthwhile here, focus!->FocusSearch]]<</if>> [[Leave this room, and the Slave Rooms altogether.->Hallway2Hub]]

The containers are, of course, laminate. But hardened, much like a plastic. The Toreans must use the material for just about anything. These are a semi-transparent pink, allowing you to see a white substance within. Labeled //Slave Feed// you pop one open to reveal a rather unappetizing meal, somewhat below what you would ever consider to be gruel. <<set $Strike3 += 1>> [[Best to just close it back up.->JacqRoom]]

The pillow itself is white laminate, but it is at least quite soft-- you had half expected it to be another example of strange Torean design. Pushing it aside however, you find <<if $FoundBoxKey is true>>absolutely nothing. You already discovered the key hidden here. No one could argue you're not thorough.<<else>>You find what very much looks to be another keycard of some sort!<</if>> <<set $Strike3 += 1>> <<if $FoundBoxKey is false>>[[Grab that key!->GrabBoxKey]]<</if>> [[Put the pillow back in place.->JacqRoom]]

<<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>Kneeling upon Jacq's bed, the smooth white laminate broken into waves by your weight, you tip your head at the clear indenture in the wall. A pressure-based panel, obviously, opened by pressing on the bottom corner. Reaching out to do just that, however... your bondage mitts come up uselessly against the secured panel. With your hands balled and covered in the padded laminate, you cannot put enough pressure onto the panel no matter how hard you try. After several minutes you, rather fruitlessly, are forced to admit defeat. [[Dammit.->JacqRoom]]<<else>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'bheels.png']] Kneeling upon Jacq's bed, the smooth white laminate broken into waves by your weight, you tip your head at the clear indenture in the wall. A pressure-based panel, obviously, opened by pressing on the bottom corner. Reaching out to do just that, you're rewarded with a quiet click as the panel pops open and swings aside. Within you find a series of shelves, four in total, each of them holding about a dozen different glossy boots. White, blue, red, gold, and so many of them black-- the two things they all share is their laminate construction and the ballet-like heels, forcing the wearer onto the tips of their toes. Many of them even feature locking straps, or laces to ensure a tight fit. <<if $Gear gt 2>>How interesting. You remember Jacq had been wearing a set when you had first met them.<<else>>How strange... you're wearing proof that heeled boots could be printed easily by the Torean Wardrobe machines. Did Jacq prefer them preformed, or were they perhaps a collector of some sort?<</if>> Staring at the rows of gleaming boots, you have to at least admit to Jacq's apparent dedication. You cannot imagine wearing such boots. [[Try to imagine that, though...->ImagineBoots]] [[Close the panel for now.->ClosePanel]]<</if>> <<set $Strike3 += 1>>

<<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>Returning your attentions to the room, having already allowed your arousal-fogged mind to lock on the smooth laminate mitts that now entrap your hands, you once more kneel, looking under the bed. The various chains are still there, one each locked to the corner-feet of the bed, undoubtedly just long enough to reach up onto the bed itself. And the note, of course. The one that had accompanied the mitts you now wear. //Remember to lock yourself into these, Jacq. And then the four chains, nice and tight. You've spent too much time out amongst the offworlders. I'll have to be more strict with you for a bit. --Celestine// There is no key to be found for your mitts, of course. You had to imagine the Ambassador still held. That only left the possibility... of locking yourself in. But why would you do that? Not unless you were trapped inside this Embassy, and just ready to give up... but even then... it would be madness! <<if $Arou gt 80>>[[(Arousal) No way. Stop thinking about this.->BedFake]]<<else>>[[(Arousal) No way. Stop thinking about this.->JacqRoom]]<</if>> [[Just... maybe see how it feels, to attach one of the chains to your wrist...->BedTransfer]]<<elseif $Balled is false>>Under the bed! Of course! The room was too thinly furnished to hide anything, except of course amongst the one space you could not see while standing-- beneath the bed itself. Kneeling down, you look beneath the pristine white mattress... [[And you find...->MittIntro]]<<else>>Returning your attentions to the room, having already allowed your arousal-fogged mind to lock on the smooth laminate mitts you had found beneath the bed, you know there is nothing new to be found there. <<if $Gear gt 4>>The Wardrobe machine in the Control Suite had traded those mitts for the full black laminate suit you now wear, returning to you the use of your hands... but at what cost?<<else>>At least you've managed to cut the mitts back off?<</if>> Looking down at the bed, you don't even like the prospect of getting down on your knees to look there again. That would shift your plugs. [[Instead, step back.->JacqRoom]]<</if>>

<<if $Back is 1>>Reaching for the keycard, you pick it up, holding it to the light. At first glance it looks much like the one you had used to access this level of the Embassy, but this particular one is actually labeled. //Box Key, Control Suites.// Huh. <<if $Pock.includes('The Box')>>It almost sounds like the Box you're still carrying. Could this be a key for it? Perhaps you should explore the mentioned Control Suites first, get a better idea of what exactly you're looking at here. For now? You pick up the key.<<else>>This had to be a key for the sort of Box you had transported here in the first place. Huh. It wasn't actually necessary, given that simply "completing" the delivery had allowed you to open the Box. But you suppose it is a good idea to take this key, it couldn't hurt, right?<</if>><<else>>Reaching for the keycard, you pick it up, holding it to the light. At first glance it looks much like the one you had used to access this level of the Embassy, but this particular one is actually labeled. //Box Key, Control Suites.// Huh. This had to have a use of some sort in the Control Suites, which you had seen lay behind one of the other doors in this upstairs hallway. Perhaps you should backtrack and check those out? Either way, for now, you take the key with you.<</if>> @@.addbox;Box Key Added.@@<<run $Pock.push('Box Key')>> <<set $FoundBoxKey to true>> [[Great! Step back.->JacqRoom]]

<<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ <<if $Gear lt 3>>To be perched upon such heels, your toned legs maintaining balance as easily as Jacq had seemed capable of... mhm. It certainly sparks a bit of desire within your mind. But you're also quite intimidated by them, as your eyes flicker back open to look upon the rows of boots. You've never even worn laminate, diving right in to actually trying on one of those boots would just be a step too far. Certainly... certainly your desires are just getting the better of you. For now?, though?<<else>>To be perched upon such heels, your toned legs maintaining balance as easily as Jacq had seemed capable of... mhm. You've wearing laminate after all, and there is even a set that matches the color of your suit... but your boots are locked on, you realize, glancing back. Shit. Well, at least for today, it appears like your fantasies will just have to stay that-- a fantasy. And besides, Jacq probably didn't even wear the same size shoe. You have to imagine a proper fit would be important.<</if>> [[Close the case.->ClosePanel]]

Closing the panel once more, you slide back off the bed. Your passage had created several new creases upon the stark white laminate of the sheets that covered it, but it takes you only a few moments bent over to put everything back in place. <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>Well done covering your tracks, and quickly too.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>Your corset makes such work a bit more difficult, and you find your tight skirt rather constricting, but you manage nevertheless.<<else>>Your corset makes such work a bit more difficult, and you find your gloved fingers slipping against the equally slick laminate of the sheets. By the time you're finished you're panting a bit through your nose, while <<if $Gender is 1>>your cock strains just a bit harder inside your chaste bulge from the effect of your rear plug shifting several times.<<else>>your cunt is a bit slicker, your pair of plugs having shifted several times throughout.<</if>> <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@<</if>> [[Step back.->JacqRoom]]

You want to step away, you do. But this is the second time you've been confronted with the prospect of those chains, and looking at them again... @@color:yellow;your arousal pushes you to reach out for them.@@ [[You just want to try one.->BedTransfer]]

It is a simple thing, to strip yourself of freedom. The alignment of cuffs is almost deceptively easy, and with their built in connectors they hook to the chains with the barest of effort. <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>Even the bondage mitts don't interfere too much, the blunt objects that had been your hands still allowing to manuever things at least, and then you need only lean into them for connectors to click into place. <</if>>With one snapped to your ankle, you move to a seated position on the laminate covered bed, swishing your leg back and forth. The added weight, the way the chain pulls tight... you are intrigued. Adding the second ankle restraint is harder, you have to spread your legs out upon the bed, the silvery length of metal demanding it. But you manage, flopping back afterward, looking up at the light set into the ceiling. That just left your arms... @@color:yellow;You can't stop now.@@ Each wrist is given the same treatment, the first forcing your arm up and to the side. That made the last one the hardest, and in the end you prime it for use before reaching up and settling your wrist into place-- where it connects into place with a satisfying //click.// You pull against it as a test, then extend the effort to all your limbs, struggling against the chains now keeping you spread-eagle upon the bed. They rattle along the bed frame, and clink softly, but you find yourself securely locked into place. You can't even get your hand back up to that last cuff you had positioned, to undo things. All you can do is struggle, looking down across your own form, <<if $Gear gt 2>>watching the light play across your laminate uniform.<<else>>wishing you could feel more of the laminate sheets upon your skin.<</if>> <<set $Arou += 25>>@@.addarou;+25 Arousal!@@ It feels so good... so good in fact that it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize just what you had done. You just chained yourself to a bed that was not yours, using restraints that were not yours, deep inside an Embassy you were trespassing in. //And you don't have a means of escaping.// Hells. What were you thinking!? <<set $Strike to 0>> [[You can get yourself free!->StruggleBed]] [[Is this where you belong...?->ContemplateBed]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'bondagemitt.png']] Your thinking outside of the box is rewarded by... strange black things. Pulling them out from where they had rested beneath the bed, you see they're accompanied by a note helpfully stuck to the exterior of one: //Remember to lock yourself into these, Jacq. And then the four chains, nice and tight. You've spent too much time out amongst the offworlders. I'll have to be more strict with you for a bit. --Celestine// Hmm. Lock yourself in...? Turning the black things in your hands, you realize they're gloves... of sort. They could be slid on much like gloves, but they lack fingers, and are balled in a way that would force your hand into a similar posture. That would make picking things up, or using glass devices, or any other number of things just about impossible! The mitts are even padded, the black laminate they were constructed of slick enough to make carrying most anything by wedging it between them hard to consider. Jacq was supposed to wear these with... chains? You turn back to the bed, and notice for the first time coiled silver, one small pile behind each of the bed's feet, located at the corners. When stretched out they would reach up, one each for the four corners of the bed-- which was big enough that if all four were attached, anyone would be kept spread-eagle. Incapable of escape. <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ Your cheeks flush slightly at the thought, of Jacq's lithe form being restrained in such away. And inevitably your gaze turns back to the mitts... what would it feel like to put them on? <<if $Arou gt 40>>@@color:yellow;You want to feel them...@@ [[(Arousal) Put on the mitts.->PutMitts]] [[Put everything back! Before you do something you will regret!->JacqRoom]]<<else>>@@color:purple;You are thinking far too rationally to consider such a thing.@@ @@color:purple;You're not aroused enough to consider putting those mitts on.@@ [[Put everything back, and stop thinking so foolishly!->JacqRoom]]<</if>>

With eager glee, you move the first of the mitts to your hand, the slot allowing for a hand to be placed inside. <<if $Gear gt 4>>As you do, your glove glides effortlessly against the similar laminate of the mitts themselves.<<else>>As you do, the soft flesh of your hand glides effortlessly against the similar laminate of the mitts themselves.<</if>> Inch by inch your hand disappears, the confines of the device tight enough that you need to bend your fingers into a balled fist to fit completely. Once it is place the second one is even harder, now that your one hand is rendered useless, but you manage by holding it between your thighs and pushing your hand in that way. @@.addbox;Bondage Mitts Equipped.@@<<run $Inv.push('Bondage Mitts')>> There. You look down at what had moments before been your hands, free to grab as grasp, now reduced to smooth round balls of laminate. The sight... slightly enthralls you. <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ A few moments pass before you look back to the chains attached to the bed, and the note's command shivers gently down your spine. Lock yourself to the bed, it had said... <<set $Balled to true>> <<if $Arou gt 80>>[[Just attach a chain or two to your wrists...->BedTransfer]]<<else>>@@color:purple;You are not aroused enough to consider putting on the chains.@@<</if>> <<if $Arou gt 60>>[[Leave the mitts on for now, and step back.->LeaveMittsOn]]<<else>>@@color:purple;You are not aroused enough to leave with the mitts on.@@<</if>> [[Take the mitts off, and leave.->MittsOff]]

Smiling to yourself, you stand once more, leaving the mitts on. You can't really explain why. Perhaps it is for the best that you like them, for if you had looked down you might have noticed that the portion of the mitts along your wrists had tightened, without a key or way to loosen them in sight... [[Handless, helpless.->JacqRoom]]

You've had your fun, but its time for the mitts to come off. Looking down, you find... that the tight portion against your wrists is pulled even closer to your body than you had remembered. //Shit.// Peering closer, and feeling as best you can with your useless hands, you determine there was a self-tightening band embedded in the wrist portion. And somehow, perhaps automatically, it had tightened up, locking into place. A tiny little LED symbol beneath your wrist even indicates that with a glowing locked symbol. You can't get these off. <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@ You try to ignore just how //that// made you feel as you stand up, looking around for a key. It takes only a few moments for you to realize that, even if you had found one, you couldn't exactly work one with your hands like this. You've... trapped yourself. <<if $Gear gt 4>>But perhaps you could find a Wardrobe Device! They seemed capable of removing just about everything, as you've witnessed first hand!<<else>>You have no idea what you're going to do now.<</if>> [[For now, step away. Handless and helpless.->JacqRoom]]

Approaching the door to go back down, you pause... and look down to your hands. Or more correctly, the laminate bondage mitts locked upon them. The other doors around here opened at your approach, but this one required pressing a keycard to it, and then tapping a button. Both of which you are effectively incapable of doing now, wearing these mitts. Not that you don't try. After a minute or so of fruitless struggling, you're forced to admit defeat. You're... really in trouble now, aren't you? [[You best find a way out of these mitts!->Hallway2Hub]]

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'bondagemitt.png']] ''Bondage Mitt'' //a padded pair of bondage mitts, these tight fitting gloves force the wearer's hands to ball up, and utterly prevents using their fingers or grabbing most things. Conventional Torean wisdom holds that a slave left alone should usually be wearing bondage mitts if not otherwise restrained. How else to ensure they behave?// @@

Each of the cells is the same as the last, completely spartan without ornamentation or fixtures beyond that pad for a "bed". And each is locked shut, the control panels outside them not reacting to your attention in the slightest. That is, however, until you come to one about halfway down. The cell is still locked and marked as such by stark red letters, but the window looking into it is black instead of clear, an enigma that cannot help but draw your attention. <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>Your bondage mitts prevent you from working the control panel to the cell.<<else>>[[Try this panel.->CellPanel]]<</if>> <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>Your bondage mitts prevent you from tapping on the glass.<<else>>[[Tap on the glass.->CheckCells2]]<</if>> [[Forget this, head back.->SlaveCells]]

Walking down to the object hanging upon the wall, you find it to be a glass device-- or what is left to one. Like all of its kind, it was constructed of a singular transparent piece of plastic, transparent but capable of projecting holographic text within the confines of its panel display... had it not been cracked in half. Perhaps it was used to control the cells here? It certainly cannot do much of anything now, but its presence is something of a mystery, when so much of the Embassy you've seen thus far was clean and well kept. What had happened here? Poking at the device, you're careful not to cut yourself on the broken edge. <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>Whatever it was //intended// to be used for, a thought springs suddenly to your mind-- you could use that broken half to cut off these damn bondage mitts! [[Do it!->CuttMitts]]<</if>> [[Head back the way you came.->SlaveCells]]

Fiddling with the control panel yields little response. Like the others you passed by, it is currently locked out, and doesn't appear to respond to anything you try. You suspect it was probably coded to someone (or multiple individuals) instead of running off a keycard you could exploit. How unfortunate. <<if $Inv.includes('Bondage Mitts')>>Your bondage mitts prevent you from tapping on the glass.<<else>>[[Tap on the glass.->CheckCells2]]<</if>> [[Forget this, head back.->SlaveCells]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'cellgirl.png']] You're shocked by the glass suddenly turning from stark black to utterly transparent, allowing you a view inside the cell, and into the waiting eyes of a woman. She is sitting with her back to your window, but her clothing is undeniably laminate, a full body catsuit that covers her curvaceous form in a swirling design of whites, beiges, and silver. A collar visible around her neck makes her status obvious: she had to be another of the Ambassador's slaves. And she's staring right at you, eyes narrowed. <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ You fluster at that... until you notice the way she doesn't seem to be tracking you with those eyes. Waving a hand before the glass, you don't get a response either. It takes a moment, but you're able to conclude that wasn't looking at you-- she is looking at the glass. A one way panel? Perhaps it was clouded in the same manner you had found it in, from her perspective. Even so, she seems to be waiting... for something? [[Tap once more.->CheckCells3]] [[Step away, leave her.->SlaveCells]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'cellgirl.png']] You tap once more-- and you see the slant of her mouth shift into a frown. But she moves almost immediately from her seated position onto her knees, facing you. Folding her hands behind her back, she spreads her legs, and tips her vision down to the ground of her cell. Her back is curved to push out her chest as well, the entire posture incredibly... submissive. <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ You try not to stare, but that proves impossible, the tight laminate of her suit pulled so tightly against her every curve. What was she doing in a cell like this? Who did she think you were, to respond as she had? The questions... leave you more than a little flustered. What's more, you can't exactly communicate with the woman. Your tapping upon the glass had produced a dull sound, her cell was probably proofed against such things. And without a way to release her... there isn't more that you can do. Nevertheless you see her glance up briefly, a break in protocol undoubtedly, her eyes hardly as submissive as her body suggestion. A strand of hair falls down across her face, but there she remains, even after you lean away and the panel fades back into opaqueness. <<set $SawSlave to true>> [[An enigma.->SlaveCells]]

Moving quickly, you fiddle for a moment with your useless hands before holding the broken glass device between your legs. From there you run your bondage mitts across the jagged edge. It takes a few attempts, but eventually you manage to get the slick material to catch upon the sharpness of the shattered device, cutting a thin line that reveals your hand buried within. From there it takes a good bit of struggling, but you manage to free one hand. That makes the other even easier, until at last your strange little dive into bondage with the mitts ends! @@.minbox;Bondage Mitts Removed!@@<<run $Inv.delete("Bondage Mitts")>> [[Wonderful! Time to head back the way you came.->SlaveCells]] <<if $Gear gt 2>>[[Don't stop there, let us get the rest of this laminate off!->CutLam]]<</if>>

Your earlier success is not repeated. Carefully, given how tightly the laminate clung to your form, you try to cut it with the jagged edge of the glass device-- and find it to be utterly impervious, even after sawing for several minutes. What the hell? Pausing, you look down at yourself, then the remains of the mitts nearby. The only difference you can determine between them is that you had found the mitts separately, while your outfit had been printed on. Did that make it stronger somehow? Or perhaps the mitts had merely been made of a different quality of material? Either way, you're not getting out of your outfit that easily. [[It was worth a try.->SlaveCells]]

<<set $ChairWait += 1>><<if $ChairWait is 1>><<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>Settling down into the chair at the head of the empty conference table, your baggy jumpsuit bunches up at the waist a bit, requiring you to adjust it. As you do, you think about your excursion out into the Embassy-- and your safe return. A place like this could be full of all sorts of dangers, but you've managed to get a better idea of the situation here and escaped detection. Now you can look forward for the reason you're here.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or 4>>Settling down into the chair at the head of the empty conference table, you make sure to keep your knees together, lest you provide an upskirt opportunity for anyone walking by. The laminate receptionist uniform you had found yourself in is... certainly challenging. That skirt, these heels, the corset. But you've managed. Now you just need to think up some sort of excuse to explain you attire. Meeting with the Ambassador while dressed like this, well... perhaps you could say you had gone looking for a bathroom. And... what, wandered into a locked Wardrobe Device? Ugh. You sigh, but that only pulls the blouse across your chest all the tighter. You could always leave still, you suppose. Make a run for it, leave the Embassy. Would that be better than facing the Ambassador<<else>>Settling down into the chair at the head of the empty conference table, you make sure to do so carefully, so as not to slam the plug installed in your rear too hard. The laminate suit you've found yourself in is... unbelievably challenging. You look like the front cover spread of a particularly bold fetish magazine. How could you ever explain this attire to the Ambassador? You could always leave still, you suppose. Make a run for it, leave the Embassy. Would that be better than facing the Ambassador?<</if>><<elseif $ChairWait is 2>><<if $Back is 1>><<if $Pock.includes('The Box')>>Delivery of the Box you carry would net you a significant amount of credits, and you cannot turn your nose up at that... but the circumstances tickle that sense for danger that every good starship pilot had. You've just seen too much of what was going on in this Embassy to think yourself wholly safe anymore. And the details of this job are still strange. If you had been transporting the Box from Torei to the Embassy, sure, it could be like a courier service for a message that could not be trusted over FTL comm-lines. But you had been contacted deep in the Milky Way, and your pickup had been at a starport locker. Something was up... and you could very well be caught up in it, if you weren't careful. But you're seated here now, ready for anything you suppose.<<else>>Delivery of the Box you were supposed to be carrying would have netted you a significant amount of credits, but you had opened the box... and found the mask within. You've just seen too much of what was going on in this Embassy to think yourself wholly safe anymore. And the details of this job are still strange. If you had been transporting the Box from Torei to the Embassy, sure, it could be like a courier service for a message that could not be trusted over FTL comm-lines. But you had been contacted deep in the Milky Way, and your pickup had been at a starport locker. Something was up... and you could very well be caught up in it, if you weren't careful.<</if>><<elseif $Back is 2>>Investigating the Ambassador of this Embassy had led you to believe there simply was no outwardly logical reason for her path across the 'Verse. Digging up whatever you could in her wake, you've found scant few trade deals signed, or lasting relationships established. She met with Governors and Mayors and all sorts of civil officials, yes, but that just //had// to be a cover. But for what? Your investigation of the Embassy could have provided enough clues to put it all together... but that only confirmed that you could be in danger here, if you're not careful.<<else>>Contacted by the Ambassador herself, to consult on a topic related to your field of expertise. Artificial Intelligence. You're far too well read to not see the danger that lay between the lines there. Curiosity, and the promise of substantial financial compensation, had brought you to this meeting... but this was all highly irregular. You've heard rumors about AI existent on Torei, but what could this Ambassador want to possibly know about such things? And why not go through the proper channels, request a delegation from an esteemed university? Something is up, and you've seen enough in your time moving through the Embassy to question everything now. You could be in danger, if you're not careful.<</if>><<elseif $ChairWait is 3>>Thoughts of your situation drift away as a bit more time passes. <<if $Gear gt 2>>You're really going to do this, face the Ambassador dressed in laminate. Whew. At least it helps you concentrate a bit more. <<set $Arou -= 10>>@@.minarou;-10 Arousal!@@<<else>>As your mind wanders, you think on the Guards you had met at the Embassy door, and that enslaved receptionist. Torei... an entire world dressed and treated like that. Hmm... <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@<</if>> <</if>> <<if $ChairWait gt 2>>[[Footsteps in the hallway... finally!->WaitAmb]]<<else>>[[Keep waiting.->WaitFast]] [[Actually... get up, you want to wander some more.->ConfRoom]]<</if>>

<<nobr>><<set $ChairWait += 1>> <<if $ChairWait is 1>>Settling deeper into the seat, you consider your reason for being in the Torean Embassy. <<if $Back is 1>>Delivery of the Box you carry would net you a significant amount of credits, and you cannot turn your nose up at that... but the circumstances tickle that sense for danger that every good starship pilot had. Something just wasn't quite right. If you had been transporting the Box from Torei to the Embassy, sure, it could be like a courier service for a message that could not be trusted over FTL comm-lines. But you had been contacted deep in the Milky Way, and your pickup had been at a starport locker. Something was up... and you could very well be caught up in it, if you weren't careful.<br> <br> This could be the opportunity to head off disaster, snag a peek of what these people were doing. That strange individual, Jacq, had pointedly left you alone. No one is watching. Certainly there would be plenty of time to do a bit of recon, then slip back to this room once you had a better handle on the situation. Or... you could continue to wait. Dutifully make your delivery and just... hope for the best. <<elseif $Back is 2>>Investigating the Ambassador of this Embassy had led you to believe there simply was no outwardly logical reason for her path across the 'Verse. Digging up whatever you could in her wake, you've found scant few trade deals signed, or lasting relationships established. She met with Governors and Mayors and all sorts of civil officials, yes, but that just //had// to be a cover. But for what? <br> <br> This could be your chance to find out. That strange individual, Jacq, had pointedly left you alone. No one is watching. Certainly there would be plenty of time to do a bit of investigative journalism so to speak, then slip back to this room once you had a better handle on the situation. Or... you could continue to wait, and go into your interview with the Ambassador blind.<<else>>Contacted by the Ambassador herself, to consult on a topic related to your field of expertise. Artificial Intelligence. You're far too well read to not see the danger that lay between the lines there. Curiosity, and the promise of substantial financial compensation, had brought you to this meeting... but this was all highly irregular. You've heard rumors about AI existent on Torei, but what could this Ambassador want to possibly know about such things? And why not go through the proper channels, request a delegation from an esteemed university? Something is up. <br> <br> And this could be your opportunity to ascertain just what that was. That strange individual, Jacq, had pointedly left you alone. No one is watching. Certainly there would be plenty of time to do a bit of fact-finding, then slip back to this room once you had a better handle on the situation. Or... you could continue to wait. Hold your meeting with the Ambassador, and hope her intentions were benign.<</if>> <<elseif $ChairWait is 2>>You decide to hold position, the length of the Ambassador's delay unknown. What had that message announced over the Embassy's intercom said? Something about an issue that required Jacq in a "Control Suite". And they had promised to bring the Ambassador to you, afterward. How long would that take? The door nearby, leading out to the rest of the Embassy, still remains unguarded... <<elseif $ChairWait is 5>>You've waited a little bit now, and are quickly growing a bit bored. The seat you're waiting on isn't particularly comfortable either. Reaching down around the base of it, trying to see if there was an adjustment knob of some sort, you instead find your hands running up against... you're not sure, exactly. It takes bending all the way over to get eyes on it. <br> <br> There appear to be four different... hardpoints? You're not sure what to call them, loops of steel that look to be made for hooking things to, on the bottom of the chair. That's peculiar. And the other chairs in the conference room appear to have them too. Why would Toreans have such chairs? <br> <br> Something to consider as you continue to wait. <<elseif $ChairWait is 10>>Your waiting is interrupted by... something. A sound, muffled and quiet, but loud enough to break the utter silence of the conference room. Curiosity momentarily brings you to your feet, drawing you towards the source, the corner of the room opposite. There you find a small grate, barely as large as your hand is wide. Presumably it was part of the ventilation system, but your attention is on that sound. There... there it is again! <br> <br> //"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmgh..."// <br> <br> A... voice? It sounds distant, but the sound is unmistakable. Someone in distress, or... restrained? Somewhere in the Embassy. As you move back to your chair, you cannot help but look at the door leading out, your earlier concerns having only grown stronger. Just what... was going on here? <<elseif $ChairWait is 17>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'marina.png']]<br> <br> The earlier sound of muffled distress had stopped, but you suddenly hear something much louder. //Click, click, click.// You don't put together what it was before a figure briefly crosses the window of the conference room's door, a woman dressed in tight laminate. You're not even sure what you had seen, it had been so brief, but the glimpse lingers in your mind. <br> <br> <<set $Arou += 5>>@@.addarou;+5 Arousal!@@<br> <br> You try not to linger on the image of the woman in your mind, but her curvaceous form in tight laminate... ah! At least the clicking stops, her heels undoubtedly, grow fainter. She wasn't the Ambassador, and she wasn't Jacq. An employee of the Embassy, then. You saw from the receptionist that the uniforms here could be... intriguing. <<elseif $ChairWait is 27>>You yawn, still waiting. Your dedicating to doing exactly what you had been told is admirable, that at least could be admitted. How much longer would it be until the Ambassador arrived, though? Not long, you tell yourself... knowing that is probably wrong. <br> <br> <<set $Arou -= 5>>@@.minarou;-5 Arousal!@@ <<elseif $ChairWait is 37>>//Still// waiting, a quiet rumble from your stomach announces to the otherwise empty conference room that your hunger was building. Unfortunate. But then again... glancing around, you realize if this was like just about every other business-orientated space in the 'Verse, a vending machine had to be nearby. You would have to break your long vigil to find it, of course, but you are quite hungry. Or perhaps you should just keep waiting. <<elseif $ChairWait is 45>>You've been in this chair for a considerable length of time now, left in the boring silence of the conference room, but your ears perk up when you suddenly hear the sound of someone approaching. //Click, click, click...// heels about the hard floor of the hallway outside. Perhaps at the end of the hall? Only a bit longer now. <<elseif $ChairWait is 50>>"...in here, yeah. Was really hoping for a bit more excitement." <br> <br> You recognize that voice-- Jacq! Apparently talking with someone else. Just who that would be is revealed by the sudden sound of the conference room door opening... <<else>>You continue to wait in your chair, time slowly slipping by... <</if>> <</nobr>> <<if $ChairWait lt 50>>[[Keep waiting.->WaitSlow]] [[Get up, its time to move a bit!->ConfRoom]]<<else>>[[Finally, the Ambassador has arrived!->WaitAmb]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] A party of four enter, but who was first among them is immediately clear. <<if $ControlMeet is true>>You had glimpsed her through the window into the Control Suite upstairs, that blue outfit and distinctive poise unmistakable. Jacq steps up besides her regardless, announcing her clearly.<<else>>She holds herself with an aristocratic poise, gloved hands collected together before her strictly corseted waist. If you had any doubts, Jacq steps up besides her, an announcement upon their tongue.<</if>> "$Name $LName, you are in the presence of Celestine Amriallis Sargon, 9th in line of House Sargon, blood of the Aekoran Diarch." <<if $ControlMeet is true>>Her outfit is everything you remembered seeing upstairs, a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design that ran across sloping shoulders. Perched atop towering stiletto heels, she looms above you imperiously, the tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup giving her a severe look.<<else>>Dressed in a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design across her shoulders, she is perched atop towering stiletto heels, allowing her to loom above you imperiously. The tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup give her a severe look.<</if>> One that is matched by her tone. //"You are in my chair."// <<if $Gear lt 5>>"[[H-huh?->ChairHuh]]" [[Stand up immediately!->ChairStand]] "[[There are open seats all around.->ChairNaughty]]"<<else>>"[[(Gagged) H-hmmmgh?->ChairHuh]]" [[Stand up immediately!->ChairStand]] [[Remain seated, there are chairs all around.->ChairNaughty]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] You look around in confusion, across the expanse of the mostly empty conference room. Every other chair is open, but you're seated in the one at the head of the table nearest the door. Jacq intercedes with hands upon your shoulders, their outfit having changed dramatically as well. Gone are any pieces of cloth or fabric, replaced entirely by smooth laminate. A black catsuit and matching corset, their collar still pulled tightly around their throat. Your confusion is only amplified when you notice Jacq's hips are rather impressive, but their chest is flat. Questions of gender end as they guide you up to your feet. <<if $Gear lt 3>>Now freed of you, Ambassador Sargon takes your seat at the head of the table, while Jacq pulls out one to her left and gestures for you to settle in.<<else>>Now freed of you, Ambassador Sargon takes your seat at the head of the table, while Jacq pulls out a chair to her left-- and then pushes it against the wall. Into the empty space they position you, leaving you standing.<</if>> Once you do, rather surprisingly, your former guide returns to the Ambassador's side-- and kneels down upon the floor beside her. The position allows you to see Jacq still wore those ballet-like boots at least. "It is Torean custom that slaves stand or kneel," Ambassador Sargon explains, drawing your attention back to her. Sitting rigidly in your former chair, she regards you coldly. You meanwhile glance quickly over your shoulder, to the pair of Embassy Guards who had taken up positions beside the door. Their faceless visors stare directly forward. "Eyes forward," the Ambassador commands, her tone sharp enough you comply before even wondering if she meant it for you or one of her slaves. Either way, she catch a hint of a smile upon her pink lips. "Now, <<if $Gender is 1>>Mr.<<else>>Miss<</if>>$LName... my apologies for the delay. Let us not focus on my property. You will find I am a woman who abhors time ill-spent, so we will dispense with pleasantries. Instead, you will establish why you are here." <<if $Back is 1 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[I have... a delivery to make.->Delivery]]"<<elseif $Back is 1>>[[How were you supposed to explain you were here for a delivery, gagged as you are?->Delivery]]<<elseif $Back is 2 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[I have some questions for you, Ambassador.->Questions]]"<<elseif $Back is 2>>[[How were you supposed to conduct an interview while gagged?->Questions]]<<elseif $Back is 3 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[You requested me specifically, Ambassador...->Requested]]"<<else>>[[How were you supposed to explain your credentials, while gagged?->Requested]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] You look around in confusion, across the expanse of the mostly empty conference room. Every other chair is open, but you're seated in the one at the head of the table nearest the door. Nevertheless you stand just as Jacq approaches your side, their outfit having changed dramatically as well. Gone are any pieces of cloth or fabric, replaced entirely by smooth laminate. A black catsuit and matching corset, their collar still pulled tightly around their throat. Your confusion is only amplified when you notice Jacq's hips are rather impressive, but their chest is flat. Questions of gender end as they guide you up to your feet. <<if $Gear lt 3>>Now freed of you, Ambassador Sargon takes your seat at the head of the table, while Jacq pulls out one to her left and gestures for you to settle in.<<else>>Now freed of you, Ambassador Sargon takes your seat at the head of the table, while Jacq pulls out a chair to her left-- and then pushes it against the wall. Into the empty space they position you, leaving you standing.<</if>> Once you do, rather surprisingly, your former guide returns to the Ambassador's side-- and kneels down upon the floor beside her. The position allows you to see Jacq still wore those ballet-like boots at least. "It is Torean custom that slaves stand or kneel," Ambassador Sargon explains, drawing your attention back to her. Sitting rigidly in your former chair, she regards you coldly. You meanwhile glance quickly over your shoulder, to the pair of Embassy Guards who had taken up positions beside the door. Their faceless visors stare directly forward. "Eyes forward," the Ambassador commands, her tone sharp enough you comply before even wondering if she meant it for you or one of her slaves. Either way, she catch a hint of a smile upon her pink lips. "Now, <<if $Gender is 1>>Mr.<<else>>Miss<</if>>$LName... my apologies for the delay. Let us not focus on my property. You will find I am a woman who abhors time ill-spent, so we will dispense with pleasantries. Instead, you will establish why you are here." <<if $Back is 1 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[I have... a delivery to make.->Delivery]]"<<elseif $Back is 1>>[[How were you supposed to explain you were here for a delivery, gagged as you are?->Delivery]]<<elseif $Back is 2 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[I have some questions for you, Ambassador.->Questions]]"<<elseif $Back is 2>>[[How were you supposed to conduct an interview while gagged?->Questions]]<<elseif $Back is 3 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[You requested me specifically, Ambassador...->Requested]]"<<else>>[[How were you supposed to explain your credentials, while gagged?->Requested]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] <<if $Gear lt 5>>You're right, of course, but your answer clearly displeases the Ambassador.<<else>>You cannot say it, gagged as you are, but your intention to remain seated is clear-- as is the Ambassador's disapproval.<</if>> With narrowed eyes, she dramatically makes her way not to one of the chairs nearest you, but to the one furthest away-- at the head of the far end of the table. Jacq accompanies her, their walk allowing you to truly notice how much their outfit had changed. Gone are any pieces of cloth or fabric, replaced entirely by smooth laminate. A black catsuit and matching corset, their collar still pulled tightly around their throat. Your confusion is only amplified when you notice Jacq's hips are rather impressive, but their chest is flat. Questions of gender end as they guide you up to your feet. <<if $Gear lt 3>>Now freed of you, Ambassador Sargon takes your seat at the head of the table, while Jacq pulls out one to her left and gestures for you to settle in.<<else>>Now freed of you, Ambassador Sargon takes your seat at the head of the table, while Jacq pulls out a chair to her left-- and then pushes it against the wall. Into the empty space they position you, leaving you standing.<</if>> Once you do, rather surprisingly, your former guide returns to the Ambassador's side-- and kneels down upon the floor beside her. The position allows you to see Jacq still wore those ballet-like boots at least. "It is Torean custom that slaves stand or kneel," Ambassador Sargon explains, drawing your attention back to her. Sitting rigidly in your former chair, she regards you coldly. You meanwhile glance quickly over your shoulder, to the pair of Embassy Guards who had taken up positions beside the door. Their faceless visors stare directly forward. "Eyes forward," the Ambassador commands, her tone sharp enough you comply before even wondering if she meant it for you or one of her slaves. Either way, she catch a hint of a smile upon her pink lips. "Now, <<if $Gender is 1>>Mr.<<else>>Miss<</if>>$LName... my apologies for the delay. Let us not focus on my property. You will find I am a woman who abhors time ill-spent, so we will dispense with pleasantries. Instead, you will establish why you are here." <<set $ChairAnger to true>> <<if $Back is 1 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[I have... a delivery to make.->Delivery]]"<<elseif $Back is 1>>[[How were you supposed to explain you were here for a delivery, gagged as you are?->Delivery]]<<elseif $Back is 2 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[I have some questions for you, Ambassador.->Questions]]"<<elseif $Back is 2>>[[How were you supposed to conduct an interview while gagged?->Questions]]<<elseif $Back is 3 and $Gear lt 5>>"[[You requested me specifically, Ambassador...->Requested]]"<<else>>[[How were you supposed to explain your credentials, while gagged?->Requested]]<</if>>

<<if $Pock.includes('The Box')>>Celestine Sargon fixes you with an impressive stare, as you produce the box in question. "Your efforts should be commended."<<else>>Celestine Sargon fixes you with an impressive stare. "And yet you no longer have the package, do I understand that correctly?"<</if>> Placing her gloved hands upon the table, her fingers entwine as her attention takes a dramatic turn. <<if $Gear lt 3>>"I am looking forward to returning home, if only for a short while. I tire of the unkept nature of offworlders, and what passes as //clothing// amongst your people. My Jacq is proof that your kind can come to appreciate the wonders of laminate, especially if we lock it on. But I suppose I digress.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>"I see you have... acquired laminate clothing, as well. The uniform I require of my girls, it seems. Do you like it? <<if $Gender is 1>>I prefer my boys in black and thoroughly restrained, but I suppose I digress.<<else>>I prefer my girls in a catsuit, skirt, or dress. Much better than the jumpsuit I'm told you arrived in, but I digress.<</if>><<elseif $Gear gt 4>>"I see you have... acquired laminate clothing, as well. And not just //any// clothing. That suit was not built for you, but I suppose at least I now know the advanced functionalities do not automatically engage upon just anyone. I would presume <<if $Gender is 1>>your //nulge// is quite frustrated, though?<<else>>your plugs have left you quite frustrated, though?<</if>> Although I suppose I have digressed.<</if>> I thank you for traveling across these vast stars to make your delivery, but now I must request something more of you. Your detention, in fact." "[[My what now?!->Detention]]" "[[I need to be paid first!->Detention]]" <<if $Arou gt 50>>"[[(Arousal)I do need some restraint, Ambassador...->ArouDetention]]<</if>>

"Of course you do," the Ambassador responds rather dismissively. "But for just a moment, let us discuss //you.//" Placing her gloved hands upon the table, her fingers entwine as her attention takes a dramatic turn. <<if $Gear lt 3>>"I am looking forward to returning home, if only for a short while. I tire of the unkept nature of offworlders, and what passes as //clothing// amongst your people. My Jacq is proof that your kind can come to appreciate the wonders of laminate, especially if we lock it on. But I suppose I digress.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>"I see you have... acquired laminate clothing, as well. The uniform I require of my girls, it seems. Do you like it? <<if $Gender is 1>>I prefer my boys in black and thoroughly restrained, but I suppose I digress.<<else>>I prefer my girls in a catsuit, skirt, or dress. Much better than the jumpsuit I'm told you arrived in, but I digress.<</if>><<elseif $Gear gt 4>>"I see you have... acquired laminate clothing, as well. And not just //any// clothing. That suit was not built for you, but I suppose at least I now know the advanced functionalities do not automatically engage upon just anyone. I would presume <<if $Gender is 1>>your //nulge// is quite frustrated, though?<<else>>your plugs have left you quite frustrated, though?<</if>> Although I suppose I have digressed.<</if>> I thank you for making the effort to come to me, and I am pleasantly surprised that any offworlder is observant enough to have sought me out while harboring suspicions as you undoubtedly do, but now I must request something more of you. Your detention, in fact." "[[My what now?!->Detention]]" "[[You cannot detain a member of the press!->Detention]]" <<if $Arou gt 50>>"[[(Arousal)I do need some restraint, Ambassador...->ArouDetention]]<</if>>

"That I did," the Ambassador agrees immediately. "I have many questions for one of your expertise. But I must admit, I did not expect you to present yourself as you are." Placing her gloved hands upon the table, her fingers entwine as her attention takes a dramatic turn. <<if $Gear lt 3>>"I am looking forward to returning home, if only for a short while. I tire of the unkept nature of offworlders, and what passes as //clothing// amongst your people. My Jacq is proof that your kind can come to appreciate the wonders of laminate, especially if we lock it on. But I suppose I digress.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>"I see you have... acquired laminate clothing, as well. The uniform I require of my girls, it seems. Do you like it? <<if $Gender is 1>>I prefer my boys in black and thoroughly restrained, but I suppose I digress.<<else>>I prefer my girls in a catsuit, skirt, or dress. Much better than the jumpsuit I'm told you arrived in, but I digress.<</if>><<elseif $Gear gt 4>>"I see you have... acquired laminate clothing, as well. And not just //any// clothing. That suit was not built for you, but I suppose at least I now know the advanced functionalities do not automatically engage upon just anyone. I would presume <<if $Gender is 1>>your //nulge// is quite frustrated, though?<<else>>your plugs have left you quite frustrated, though?<</if>> Although I suppose I have digressed.<</if>> I thank you for making the effort to come to me, and I do indeed have all manner of inquires to make with you, but now I must request something more. Your detention, in fact." "[[My what now?!->Detention]]" "[[I thought you needed my expertise!->Detention]]" <<if $Arou gt 50>>"[[(Arousal)I do need some restraint, Ambassador...->ArouDetention]]<</if>>

<h1>Contract Status: @@color:red;ENSLAVED, REGISTERED SEXUAL DEVIANT@@</h1> <table style="width:100%"> <tr> <th>Evangeline Naram-Sin</th> <th>Celestine Sargon</th> <th>Anastasia Zora</th> <th>Dr. Julian LeVert</th> </tr> <tr> <td>[img[setup.ImagePath+'evazoom2.png']]</td> <td>[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']]</td> <td>[img[setup.ImagePath+'ana.png']]</td> <td>[img[setup.ImagePath+'doc.png']]</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Your primary contract holder and ally on Torei, Mistress Naram-Sin holds sway over you with a firm hand. As a member of the Naram-Sin family she is remarkably wealthy, the palatial (and moving) estate you reside in proof of that. Her assistance thus far has been indispensable, and her motivations are clear. Most importantly, she is your best bet for escaping the collar and false charges you've been fixed with, but she seems just as keen to observe your slide into further slavery... </td> <td>The source of your current predicament, Ambassador Sargon's ambition knows few limits. Her reputation as a taskmaster and strict owner of slaves is well known, as is her frustration with Aekora's current political alignment. Just how far she would go to achieve her aims is unclear, but rumors swirl around her unceasingly. Reports indicate she is probably offworld, with her estate left in the steady hands of her trusted slave //Jacq//. </td> <td>The Queen of the Enclave, Anastasia Zora is an offworlder who has not only taken readily to Torean culture, but wielded it with a fierce underhandedness that has seen her become the unspoken ruler of Aekora's sole and tenuous connection to the Way Up. Astride this vital trade artery she has built a criminal empire, dealing in smuggling, illicit slave trading, and document falsification. Holding court from her Catgirl Cabaret, those willing to risk confrontation should take note that she always has another catgirl uniform set aside for her next challenger. </td> <td>Doctor Julian LeVert is an esteemed lancer with formal training from the Ministry of Improvement, and is versed in the bleeding edge of Torean biotech. About six months ago he left his position at the Ministry rather abrupty however, and established a private clinic "for the rehabilitation of particularly deviant slaves". His patients are few in number, and any hard data from within the clinic is hard to obtain, but it has been inspected no less than three times by Truant Officers. Clearly nothing illict was found, but rumors of //Daemons// coming and going from the facility are hard to shake.</td> </tr> <tr> <td>@@color:green;Supportive@@</td> <td>@@color:red;Hostile@@</td> <td>@@color:grey;Indifferent@@</td> <td>@@color:red;Hostile@@</td> </tr> </table>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] Pointedly ignoring your outburst, Ambassador Sargon instead looks to her side, where Jacq had been kneeling. "You may have your fun, Jacq." Taking the cue, the catsuit-wearing slave rises, an impish smile immediately emerging upon their lips as they produce a glass datapad. Upon it, they quickly bring up what very much looks to be an itemized list. "Since your arrival, $Name, I have been watching you. It is not hard, the Embassy is chock full of cameras. I convinced Mistress to see what sort of person you were, and we learned //a lot//! What exactly, you're probably wondering? Let me tell you." "<<if $TurnedKey is true>>First and foremost, don't even need a camera to know that you turned in that lost key at the receptionist's desk. I'm honestly not surprised Marina lost it, she goes out in that uniform of hers and all the offworlders stare so she gets so adorably flustered... but turning it in earns you big points, $Name. The Ambassador appreciates that.<<set $BadCount -=3>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ControlMeet is true>>I gotta say, it was hard keeping a straight face when I saw you on the cameras looking into the Control Suite, where Mistress and I were talking. But I did, and I gotta point out that snooping like that isn't good behavior. Slaves get the whip for that, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $PlantCum gt 0>>Just a couple doors down from here is our little pheromone demonstration, with the plant, right? And what did you do...? Heh. <<if $PlantCum is 99>>You tried to use it to cum, and you found out just how cruel a chastity-enforcing uniform can be. We've all been there, but still, good boys and girls don't //try// that sort of thing.<<set $BadCount += 3>><<else>>You let yourself get carried away, and used it to cum. $PlantCum times. Watching you was fun, but fact remains: good boys and girls don't do that.<<set $BadCount += $PlantCum>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ComputerOn is true>>You almost inadvertently stopped me from watching you did your next little act of rebellion, when you took down the local network... in the storage closet, remember? Luckily our cameras run on their own system. Either way, yeah, I know you did that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $TookPic gt 0>>I've got a pretty good idea of how you accessed one of our computers, <<if $TookPic is 1>>because I noticed the login attempt. I bet the restraints were a surprise, hmm? It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<else>>but you made it pretty easy by getting caught in the login-picture, didn't you? Heh. Most offworlders take a bit longer before they're submitting to a person, much less //a computer.// It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 2>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Marina gt 0>>Poor Marina. She was an offworlder, you know. Just like you, or me. Perhaps not the smartest to begin with, but she's taken so eagerly to having her libido improved, her proportions filled out, and frequent pheromone treatments... that she is quite air-headed these days. Enough so to allow you to access her profile, hmm? <<if $Marina is 0>>But you didn't turn on any advanced functions. Surprising.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<elseif $Marina is 2>>And then you turned on her edging routine. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 2>><<else>>And then you turned on her punishment routine, mild shocks. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $TriedFeed is true>>I have to admit you're adventurous, though. You found the vending machine and tried the Slave Feed, didn't you? Even I don't particularly care for the stuff, but the Ambassador is strict with her property. That is all we're allowed to eat. Imagine that, $Name. I wonder... does that excite you? Why else would you willingly eat the stuff?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $FoundRepro is true>>Not only did you go where you weren't supposed to go, of course, but you saw things you weren't supposed to see. Like... one of our monitoring feeds for the //guests// we have upstairs? This one is particularly serious, and one we will address thoroughly, but I can tell you that what you witnessed is... for the betterment of all. Those are bad people in there, $Name.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $CellCum is true>>And then of course you didn't just //look// at what was in the Control Suite, you got... excited, huh? Slaves are meant to look good enough for that, naturally, but you didn't ask for permission. From their owner, of course. Naughty.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $BoxMeet is true>>Then you found a little failed mission of ours, those do happen occasionally you know. The Boxes we use to transport the main component of the Reprogramming suits? <<if $Gear gt 4>>Then you put that mask on, how... delightfully unexpected.<<else>>But you resisted the urge to put the mask on.<</if>> Intrigued? They're more important than you know, even if we don't really understand how they work ourselves.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $GotRecep is true>>Let's turn our attention to what you got to wear though, hmm? That's often the most fun. And you figured out how to get into a Wardrobe Machine, where you printed off one of the Embassy's receptionist outfits. Your first taste of laminate... ah, something I look back fondly on too. I wonder if you took to it readily, or if you find it bothersome? I gotta say, you looked good in it. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Even if you eventually swapped it for what you're wearing now.<<else>>A skirt suits you.<</if>><<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Gear gt 4>>You //really// let that kinky little monster within run wild, didn't you? To end up in one of the Reprogramming Suits... I shudder with //glee// to think about what sort of sordid desires pushed you into that predicament. Nicely plugged, wonderfully chaste, and sucking on the oral gag even now. Without someone to take care of you in there, you must know, you wouldn't last a day. Even if the experience is, or so I would think, //totally maddening.// Heh.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Balled is true>>Then you broke into my room, of all things! And found a little present from my Mistress, waiting for me. That's a new low, even for you. But then again, if that is the sort of things you're going to get into, maybe a set of mitts should be permanently added to your uniform. To keep you out of trouble. Hmm? At least you maintained enough rational thought to not lock yourself to my bed, or something. That would have been, somehow, even more embarrassing for you.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $SawSlave is true>>Oh, and I almost forgot! You found your way inside the slave quarters, and found our own little troublemaker on timeout for the day. The broken datapad nearby, you saw that yeah? The one kept to her cell for the day broke it. But she's learning her lesson, I saw how dutifully submissive she was when she thought someone had come to check on her. Maybe that's what you should aspire towards, $Name?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $EscapeAttempt is true>>Then of course there was your ill-planned little escape attempt. A strike against you for sure, but one I convinced the Ambassador to not take //too// seriously. It was after my idea to give you a bit of leash. Only now comes the tug, heh. <<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ChairAnger is true>>And finally... you were given a direct order from Ambassador Sargon not that long ago, with her chair, and you failed to comply. Adding that one to the list just so I can mention how I //really// don't recommend trying that again. Every slave learns quickly on Torei that disobedience is for fools and soubrettes only, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>>" Drawing themselves up fully, Jacq moves their finger quickly up along the side of the glass device in their hands, returning their list of your supposed... offences? Mistakes? You're not even sure. Either way, they return to the start of it before finally leveling those playful eyes upon you. "$BadCount infractions, by my math. So... lots of talk, but what does it mean, right? What does my Mistress mean by //detention?// Well..." [[This can't be good.->Detention2]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] You catch the hint of a smile upon the Ambassador's lips, but it disappears as she turns her head to the side, to the slave kneeling upon the ground there. "You may have your fun, Jacq." Taking the cue, the catsuit-wearing slave rises, an impish smile immediately emerging upon their lips as they produce a glass datapad. Upon it, they quickly bring up what very much looks to be an itemized list. "Since your arrival, $Name, I have been watching you. It is not hard, the Embassy is chock full of cameras. I convinced Mistress to see what sort of person you were, and we learned //a lot//! What exactly, you're probably wondering? Let me tell you." "<<if $TurnedKey is true>>First and foremost, don't even need a camera to know that you turned in that lost key at the receptionist's desk. I'm honestly not surprised Marina lost it, she goes out in that uniform of hers and all the offworlders stare so she gets so adorably flustered... but turning it in earns you big points, $Name. The Ambassador appreciates that.<<set $BadCount -=3>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ControlMeet is true>>I gotta say, it was hard keeping a straight face when I saw you on the cameras looking into the Control Suite, where Mistress and I were talking. But I did, and I gotta point out that snooping like that isn't good behavior. Slaves get the whip for that, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $PlantCum gt 0>>Just a couple doors down from here is our little pheromone demonstration, with the plant, right? And what did you do...? Heh. <<if $PlantCum is 99>>You tried to use it to cum, and you found out just how cruel a chastity-enforcing uniform can be. We've all been there, but still, good boys and girls don't //try// that sort of thing.<<set $BadCount += 3>><<else>>You let yourself get carried away, and used it to cum. $PlantCum times. Watching you was fun, but fact remains: good boys and girls don't do that.<<set $BadCount += $PlantCum>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ComputerOn is true>>You almost inadvertently stopped me from watching you did your next little act of rebellion, when you took down the local network... in the storage closet, remember? Luckily our cameras run on their own system. Either way, yeah, I know you did that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $TookPic gt 0>>I've got a pretty good idea of how you accessed one of our computers, <<if $TookPic is 1>>because I noticed the login attempt. I bet the restraints were a surprise, hmm? It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<else>>but you made it pretty easy by getting caught in the login-picture, didn't you? Heh. Most offworlders take a bit longer before they're submitting to a person, much less //a computer.// It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 2>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Marina gt 0>>Poor Marina. She was an offworlder, you know. Just like you, or me. Perhaps not the smartest to begin with, but she's taken so eagerly to having her libido improved, her proportions filled out, and frequent pheromone treatments... that she is quite air-headed these days. Enough so to allow you to access her profile, hmm? <<if $Marina is 0>>But you didn't turn on any advanced functions. Surprising.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<elseif $Marina is 2>>And then you turned on her edging routine. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 2>><<else>>And then you turned on her punishment routine, mild shocks. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $TriedFeed is true>>I have to admit you're adventurous, though. You found the vending machine and tried the Slave Feed, didn't you? Even I don't particularly care for the stuff, but the Ambassador is strict with her property. That is all we're allowed to eat. Imagine that, $Name. I wonder... does that excite you? Why else would you willingly eat the stuff?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $FoundRepro is true>>Not only did you go where you weren't supposed to go, of course, but you saw things you weren't supposed to see. Like... one of our monitoring feeds for the //guests// we have upstairs? This one is particularly serious, and one we will address thoroughly, but I can tell you that what you witnessed is... for the betterment of all. Those are bad people in there, $Name.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $CellCum is true>>And then of course you didn't just //look// at what was in the Control Suite, you got... excited, huh? Slaves are meant to look good enough for that, naturally, but you didn't ask for permission. From their owner, of course. Naughty.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $BoxMeet is true>>Then you found a little failed mission of ours, those do happen occasionally you know. The Boxes we use to transport the main component of the Reprogramming suits? <<if $Gear gt 4>>Then you put that mask on, how... delightfully unexpected.<<else>>But you resisted the urge to put the mask on.<</if>> Intrigued? They're more important than you know, even if we don't really understand how they work ourselves.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $GotRecep is true>>Let's turn our attention to what you got to wear though, hmm? That's often the most fun. And you figured out how to get into a Wardrobe Machine, where you printed off one of the Embassy's receptionist outfits. Your first taste of laminate... ah, something I look back fondly on too. I wonder if you took to it readily, or if you find it bothersome? I gotta say, you looked good in it. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Even if you eventually swapped it for what you're wearing now.<<else>>A skirt suits you.<</if>><<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Gear gt 4>>You //really// let that kinky little monster within run wild, didn't you? To end up in one of the Reprogramming Suits... I shudder with //glee// to think about what sort of sordid desires pushed you into that predicament. Nicely plugged, wonderfully chaste, and sucking on the oral gag even now. Without someone to take care of you in there, you must know, you wouldn't last a day. Even if the experience is, or so I would think, //totally maddening.// Heh.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Balled is true>>Then you broke into my room, of all things! And found a little present from my Mistress, waiting for me. That's a new low, even for you. But then again, if that is the sort of things you're going to get into, maybe a set of mitts should be permanently added to your uniform. To keep you out of trouble. Hmm? At least you maintained enough rational thought to not lock yourself to my bed, or something. That would have been, somehow, even more embarrassing for you.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $SawSlave is true>>Oh, and I almost forgot! You found your way inside the slave quarters, and found our own little troublemaker on timeout for the day. The broken datapad nearby, you saw that yeah? The one kept to her cell for the day broke it. But she's learning her lesson, I saw how dutifully submissive she was when she thought someone had come to check on her. Maybe that's what you should aspire towards, $Name?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $EscapeAttempt is true>>Then of course there was your ill-planned little escape attempt. A strike against you for sure, but one I convinced the Ambassador to not take //too// seriously. It was after my idea to give you a bit of leash. Only now comes the tug, heh. <<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ChairAnger is true>>And finally... you were given a direct order from Ambassador Sargon not that long ago, with her chair, and you failed to comply. Adding that one to the list just so I can mention how I //really// don't recommend trying that again. Every slave learns quickly on Torei that disobedience is for fools and soubrettes only, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>>" Drawing themselves up fully, Jacq moves their finger quickly up along the side of the glass device in their hands, returning their list of your supposed... offences? Mistakes? You're not even sure. Either way, they return to the start of it before finally leveling those playful eyes upon you. "$BadCount infractions, by my math. So... lots of talk, but what does it mean, right? What does my Mistress mean by //detention?// Well..." [[This can't be good.->Detention2]]

<<if $BadCount gt 12>>"Altogether, $Name? You've been an //exceptionally// bad <<if $Gender is 1>>boy<<else>>girl<</if>>. If you had proven yourself capable of something like self-restraint, we could be talking about having you stay on Torei for a few weeks as our guest. Or even as a patient at the clinic, you //certainly// fit the bill of a sexual deviant. But no... what my Mistress means by detention will have to be applied to you with full strength and total conviction, I believe. You will not be leaving the Embassy today, not until we return to Torei in fact. You've seen too much, done too much... in short, we must ensure you cannot endanger our efforts. You will be made much more compliant, more submissive, and perhaps if you prove to be a very good <<if $Gender is 1>>boy<<else>>girl<</if>>, my Mistress will even take you into her household. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Thankfully, you've seen fit to already install yourself in the suit you will need.<<else>>You will be dressed in one of our Reprogramming Suits, a spare we have.<</if>> A cell is then waiting for you, just upstairs."<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>"Altogether, $Name? You've really narrowed down the list of options I have for you when you put on that suit. Can't even justify it by saying you were totally, incredibly bad. But you're in the suit, so what my Mistress means by detention will have to be applied to you with full strength and total conviction. You will not be leaving the Embassy today, not until we return to Torei in fact. Once someone goes into one of those suits, you're not expected to come out of one. You will be made much more compliant, more submissive, and perhaps if you prove to be a very good <<if $Gender is 1>>boy<<else>>girl<</if>>, my Mistress will even take you into her household. To achieve that, you will need your cell, just upstairs."<<elseif $BadCount gt 5>>"Altogether, $Name? You've been a rather bad <<if $Gender is 1>>boy<<else>>girl<</if>>, haven't you? You've proven yourself to have the barest modicum of restraint, or perhaps you simply were not bright enough to find out //everything//, but we can't just let you walk out of this Embassy. What my Mistress meant by detention is an indefinite stay on Torei, at our discretion. You've seen too much, and done too much, for it to be otherwise. Luckily my Mistress is working with a clinic specifically designed for those like you. You will be committed as a patient."<<else>>"Altogether, $Name? You've honestly surprised me. I thought you would be just a //little// bit more adventurous, but no. Told to stay here, you've done so. Remarkable. Well, what my Mistress meant by detention is an indefinite stay on Torei. You will be kept at a clinic she is working with, but you won't be subjected to the more... well, //fun// programs we have available. Clearly you already understand things like restraint, and submission."<</if>> <<if $Gear gt 4>>[[Shake your head. No way!->NoTran]] [[Get up and flee, you're not staying here!->FleeTran]] [[Suck on your gag, and nod your head.->YesTran]]<<else>>"[[You're not doing anything like that to me!->NoTran]]" [[Make a run for it, flee!->FleeTran]] "[[I don't want any trouble, I'll do what you want...->YesTran]]<</if>>

At that, the Ambassador speaks up with an electric purr. "You are not being given the option to say //no// to me. The only choice left to you is how hard you wish to resist. Patients at the clinic to which you will be committed are punished for insolence, I should warn you. But slaves often need to make mistakes before they have learned. The choice is yours." <<if $Gear gt 4>>[[Get up and flee, you're not staying here!->FleeTran]] [[Suck on your gag, and nod your head.->YesTran]]<<else>>"[[Make a run for it, flee!->FleeTran]] "[[I don't want any trouble, I'll do what you want...->YesTran]]<</if>>

You're moving before your mind had even fully processed the intent of your actions, springing to your feet with eyes fixated on the door. <<if $Gear is 1 or $Gear is 2>>Your utilitarian jumpsuit makes movement easy enough, but the pair of guards posted for just this sort of reaction are quick to act-- and their stun lances have considerable reach.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or 4>>Your receptionist uniform makes movement difficult, the difficulty of your heels matched with the restriction of the tight skirt across your thighs. You barely make it a few steps before the guards at the door intervene, one seizing your arm as the other deploys their stune lance.<<else>>Your Reprogramming Suit makes any quick movement difficult, between the heels you're still unsteady on, the corset around your waist, and the mask restricting your vision and breath you barely manage a step-- which shifts your rear plug rather aggressively-- before the guards at the door have their hands upon you. With your limited vision, you don't even see the stun baton they deploy.<</if>> It catches you upon the ribs, producing an immediate pain that sees you double over, your ill-planned flight having failed before liftoff. "Oh, you have a //bunch// to learn," Jacq quips, even as Ambassador Sargon herself stands. The guards haul you to your feet, but look to their owner for direction. She is, of course, always willing to provide. <<if $BadCount gt 12 and $Gear lt 5>>"Take the slave to Control Suite #2, and prime the Wardrobe for suiting. I want them sealed into the uniform and locked into their cell. I will be prepping the ship for departure, and we will transfer them to the good Doctor when we reach home. Jacq?"<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>"Take the slave to their cell in Control Suite #2. Run a diagnostic to make sure that suit was installed properly without our supervision, but otherwise I want them locked into their cell before take-off. We will transfer them to the good Doctor when we reach home. I will be prepping for departure. Jacq?"<<elseif $BadCount gt 5>>"Take them to a Wardrobe, and put them in a patient uniform. Then confine them in one of the slave cells until we reach Torei. We will transfer them to the good Doctor then. Jacq?"<<else>>"Take our guest to one of the rooms on the second level, and make sure they don't wander. The good Doctor will watch over them when we reach Torei. Jacq?"<</if>> The androgynous slave steps up, blonde hair shifting as they nod readily. "It would be my pleasure, Mistress!" <<if $BadCount gt 12 and $Gear lt 5>>[[You're dragged away...->GetSlaveLate]]<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>[[You're dragged away...->StraighttoCell]]<<elseif $BadCount gt 5>>[[You're dragged away...->PatientOutfit]]<<else>>[[You're dragged away...->GoodTransfer]]<</if>> <<set $BadCount += 5>>

Your compliance is met with a grin from Jacq, a cool nod from the Ambassador, and stark indifference from the suited guards at the door. Their presence, and their stun-lances, had made any prospect of fleeing wildly unlikely to succeed. It may not be the most dignified response to what they had planned for you, but you were smart enough to pick your battles. "Shame, watching you moan as they used those stun-lances would have been fun," Jacq quips, even as Ambassador Sargon herself stands. The guards move up beside you, but look to their owner for direction. She is, of course, always willing to provide. <<if $BadCount gt 12 and $Gear lt 5>>"Take the slave to Control Suite #2, and prime the Wardrobe for suiting. I want them sealed into the uniform and locked into their cell. I will be prepping the ship for departure, and we will transfer them to the good Doctor when we reach home. Jacq?"<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>"Take the slave to their cell in Control Suite #2. Run a diagnostic to make sure that suit was installed properly without our supervision, but otherwise I want them locked into their cell before take-off. We will transfer them to the good Doctor when we reach home. I will be prepping for departure. Jacq?"<<elseif $BadCount gt 5>>"Take them to a Wardrobe, and put them in a patient uniform. Then confine them in one of the slave cells until we reach Torei. We will transfer them to the good Doctor then. Jacq?"<<else>>"Take our guest to one of the rooms on the second level, and make sure they don't wander. The good Doctor will watch over them when we reach Torei. Jacq?"<</if>> The androgynous slave steps up, blonde hair shifting as they nod readily. "It would be my pleasure, Mistress!" <<if $BadCount gt 12 and $Gear lt 5>>[[You're led away...->GetSlaveLate]]<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>[[You're led away...->StraighttoCell]]<<elseif $BadCount gt 5>>[[You're led away...->PatientOutfit]]<<else>>[[You're led away...->GoodTransfer]]<</if>>

The guards guiding you set a strict pace, with Jacq trailing nonchalantly behind. At least your destination is not far. Moving from the Conference Room, up the stairs to the second level, you're led into a dimly lit room. There, from a side table, Jacq opens a box <<if $Back is 1>>much like the one you had brought to the Embassy<</if>> containing a mask of some sort. There is little ceremony in the way they approach, a smile plastered on their lips. "Hold still." [img[setup.ImagePath+'repromask.png']] Inch by inch they lift the mask, until you feel the slick material sliding against your cheeks. There they pause for a moment, adjusting the position slightly, before pushing forward suddenly-- where some bumps against your lips. You're opening them before you even consider what you were doing, resulting in the sudden entry of a surprisingly long laminate phallus! It fills you to capacity, a growing danger of gagging only barely avoided by the member hilting within you, your lips pressing against the front of the mask. As your tongue explores the intruder you notice taking it all in had aligned the mask perfectly, your vision now reduced to the shaded view allowed by the visor. You can see the small blinking text projected there too... <div class="comppurp">Locking...</div> Wait-- what? You barely have a chance to understand what the word implied before the visor darkens, plunging you into absolute darkness. You gasp even as the various straps loosely arranged across your head engage suddenly, each of them pulling tight. As they do your breath is suddenly obstructed, the air you had been pulling in from the looseness of it all replaced by sudden stricture. Your gasp turns into a wheeze as you double over, pulling at the mask, the cock between your lips ensuring you can only inhale through your nose. @@.addbox;Reprogramming Mask Equipped!@@ <<run $Inv.push('Reprogramming Mask')>> <<set $LateSlave to true>> "[[Mmmmmgh!->LateMask2]]"

The guards guiding you set a strict pace, with Jacq trailing nonchalantly behind. At least your destination is not far. Moving from the Conference Room, up the stairs to the second level, you're led into a dimly lit room-- //Control Suite #2//, the same where you had gotten your suit in the first place. If you thought your promised cell had something to do with the violet light you had first seen upon emerging from the Wardrobe back then, you're proven correct. Jacq leads you directly there, taking a place at the last of the three set of holographic control panels, nimble fingers bringing up several command windows quickly. After a moment they glance to the side, where a black monolith of slightly glossy material awaits-- and suddenly cracks open, a seam appearing where none had been visible before. Splitting directly down the middle, it opens like an obsidian maw, the light of the monitoring panels casting a slightly violet light into what was otherwise darkness. Leaning forward, you gaze into the depths of Torean peculiarity. What you find is a thickly padded interior, a curious touch confirming it was more laminate, as black as your suit. A mostly human-shaped silhouette is cut into that padding, in a strict posture with legs spread, bent forward at the waist with arms back. <<if $FoundRepro is true>>You have seen this pose before, of course, in the figure of the person you had observed in another of the cells.<<else>>Imagining the cell closed once more you can only imagine how uncomfortable such a position would be.<</if>> Several restraints are visible as well, slack straps at ankle, thigh, and waist, with something for the arms you suppose looking like a laminate bag of some sort. Other waiting accessories are less clear in their intended use, tubes running near where the inhabitants thighs would meet for instance. Just what those could be used for is interrupted by a blinking message upon your visor's HUD. <div class="comppurp">Compliant Slaves May Be Allowed to Cum.</div> Altogether... altogether it looks like nothing less than a hellish tomb crossed with strange and unthinkable fetishes. And the system that operated it had called this... //your// cell. Could you imagine yourself in such a place? Locked into a strict stance, incapable of moving, when the doors closed? There would be no light inside, no chance to escape... and you're about to experience. [[In you go...->LateMask4]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] The Wardrobe machine you're led to is found on the 2nd floor of the Embassy, inside Control Suite #2. Jacq takes the lead, making for the control panel alongside it, while the guards accompanying you hover nearby. They're all stoic silence, but the catsuited one technically in command of them is pure levity. Punching in commands, it takes Jacq only a few moments before the door begins to slide open with a dangerous hiss. They class their hands together at that before turning to you, a twinkle in their eye. "One more thing, before you go in. An essential part of the uniform, you understand. Something everyone of us wears. Here." [img[setup.ImagePath+'maincollar.png']] They produce a rounded band of steel, smooth and immaculate, light running in circles around it. A singular ring hangs from the front, but otherwise the design is seamless, at least until Jacq taps two fingers to the back. There a line suddenly forms, the thick metal peeling apart as if a hinge had always existed there. Standing open like that, it almost looks harmless, if quite heavy. But the implication is obvious: that's a collar. "May I?" Jacq asks, indicating your neck. "[[Hell no!->NoPatientCol]]" "[[Okay...->YesPatientCol]]"

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] The room Jacq leads you to, intended for your use, certainly is no highly rated hotel. The walls are white, the floors are white, everything is unadorned. Only the bed looks nice enough, filling roughly half the room, even if the sheets are white laminate instead of the fabric you may have expected. Otherwise there are no amenities, no view of the world outside, nothing-- besides the two guards that had accompanied you just outside the door, and Jacq suddenly very close behind you. "We will bring you meals each day, and accompany you for some exercise during the trip to Torei. It should take about two weeks. For your own safety you will be watched at all times. Our guards aren't every talkative, unfortunately. Oh! But there is one more thing you need, in fact it is the most //important// thing!" [img[setup.ImagePath+'maincollar.png']] They produce a rounded band of steel, smooth and immaculate, light running in circles around it. A singular ring hangs from the front, but otherwise the design is seamless, at least until Jacq taps two fingers to the back. There a line suddenly forms, the thick metal peeling apart as if a hinge had always existed there. Standing open like that, it almost looks harmless, if quite heavy. But the implication is obvious: that's a collar. "May I?" Jacq asks, indicating your neck. "[[Hell no!->NoGoodCol]]" "[[Okay...->YesGoodCol]]"

[img[setup.ImagePath+'embguard.png']] With a final deep breath, you turn down the hallway leading towards the lobby, and begin walking. You begin calmly at first, rationally determining to not cause a scene until you absolutely had to, but the rising anxiety is impossible to ignore. Walking becomes hurried, and just as you enter the front portion of the Embassy proper you're breaking into a run. It is now or never. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Your uniform doesn't make it easier. All black laminate, you're not versed in running in heels, and the mask's strict control of breathing makes the effort immediately exhausting.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>Your uniform doesn't make it easier. All black and red laminate, you're not versed in running in heels, and the tight pull of the skirt around your thighs makes any serious movement exhausting.<<else>>Your jumpsuit at least makes the sprint easier, allowing you to bound forward towards your goal.<</if>> The receptionist is still chained to the front desk, her alarm quickly turning to concern. She tries to say something but you lose the words in your flight, pushing instead for the door ahead. One, two, three steps-- and you burst through. ...directly into the waiting hands of the guards outside. You try to squirm free, but one of them is quick to deploy their stun-lance, the blow catching you directly in the ribs. That cuts your legs out from under you, allowing the pair of suited sentinels to begin dragging you backwards into the lobby. You look up to see the onlookers outside the Embassy, those you had passed on entering, pointing and conversing-- but hesitant to intervene. The doors closing behind take them from your view, replaced instead with that of the receptionist, a communicator held to her ear. "You're supposed to take <<if $Gender is 1>>him<<else>>her<</if>> to the conference room," she says, looking flustered. "Mistress and Jacq are on their way." [[You're dragged back to where you began.->EscapeFront2]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'embguard.png']] With a final deep breath, you move towards the emergency exit, and begin walking. You begin calmly at first, rationally determining to not cause a scene until you absolutely had to, but the rising anxiety is impossible to ignore. Walking becomes hurried, and just as you pass the room in which Marina can be heard working, you're breaking into a run. It is now or never. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Your uniform doesn't make it easier. All black laminate, you're not versed in running in heels, and the mask's strict control of breathing makes the effort immediately exhausting.<<elseif $Gear is 3 or $Gear is 4>>Your uniform doesn't make it easier. All black and red laminate, you're not versed in running in heels, and the tight pull of the skirt around your thighs makes any serious movement exhausting.<<else>>Your jumpsuit at least makes the sprint easier, allowing you to bound forward towards your goal.<</if>> The emergency exit is a heavier looking door than you had anticipated, but as you hear a voice calling out for you from behind, you push forward resolutely. Reaching the door, you immediately begin to work the thick latch. You've seen a lock like that before, but push the idea from your mind until the latch suddenly locks up, a warning appearing in holographic print. //Vacuum Detected, Seals Engaged.// Vacuum? You look up, and suddenly realize a portion of the emergency door was fogged up. Wiping at what becomes a small window, you peer out through your escape route... directly into the cold of space. This never led back into the space station at all! It is the last thought you manage before hands suddenly fall upon you, a pair of guards much like those stationed at the front of the Embassy having silently approached. You try to squirm free, but one of them is quick to deploy their stun-lance, the blow catching you directly in the ribs. That cuts your legs out from under you, allowing the pair of suited sentinels to begin dragging you back down the hallway, destination unknown. Marina is peering out from one of the rooms however, a communicator held to her ear. "Like, uh, you're supposed to take <<if $Gender is 1>>him<<else>>her<</if>> to the conference room," she says, looking flustered. "Mistress and Jacq are apparently waiting." [[You're dragged back to where you began.->EscapeExit2]]

Deposited rather unceremoniously into a chair within the conference room, the pair of guards that had served as your captors take up positions beside the door, their helmets focused straight ahead-- but their barrier to your escape clear. If it is any consolation, at least you don't have to wait long this time for the Ambassador to make her appearance. Two enter moments later, but who was first among them is immediately clear. [img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] <<if $ControlMeet is true>>You had glimpsed her through the window into the Control Suite upstairs, that blue outfit and distinctive poise unmistakable. Jacq steps up besides her regardless, announcing her clearly.<<else>>She holds herself with an aristocratic poise, gloved hands collected together before her strictly corseted waist. If you had any doubts, Jacq steps up besides her, an announcement upon their tongue.<</if>> "$Name $LName, you are in the presence of Celestine Amriallis Sargon, 9th in line of House Sargon, blood of the Aekoran Diarch." <<if $ControlMeet is true>>Her outfit is everything you remembered seeing upstairs, a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design that ran across sloping shoulders. Perched atop towering stiletto heels, she looms above you imperiously, the tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup giving her a severe look.<<else>>Dressed in a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design across her shoulders, she is perched atop towering stiletto heels, allowing her to loom above you imperiously. The tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup give her a severe look.<</if>> One that is matched by her tone. "Really now, directly out my front door? How droll. And you are in my seat." <<set $EscapeAttempt to false>> <<if $Gear lt 5>>"[[H-huh?->ChairHuh]]" [[Stand up immediately!->ChairStand]] "[[There are open seats all around.->ChairNaughty]]"<<else>>"[[(Gagged) H-hmmmgh?->ChairHuh]]" [[Stand up immediately!->ChairStand]] [[Remain seated, there are chairs all around.->ChairNaughty]]<</if>>

Deposited rather unceremoniously into a chair within the conference room, the pair of guards that had served as your captors take up positions beside the door, their helmets focused straight ahead-- but their barrier to your escape clear. If it is any consolation, at least you don't have to wait long this time for the Ambassador to make her appearance. Two enter moments later, but who was first among them is immediately clear. [img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] <<if $ControlMeet is true>>You had glimpsed her through the window into the Control Suite upstairs, that blue outfit and distinctive poise unmistakable. Jacq steps up besides her regardless, announcing her clearly.<<else>>She holds herself with an aristocratic poise, gloved hands collected together before her strictly corseted waist. If you had any doubts, Jacq steps up besides her, an announcement upon their tongue.<</if>> "$Name $LName, you are in the presence of Celestine Amriallis Sargon, 9th in line of House Sargon, blood of the Aekoran Diarch." <<if $ControlMeet is true>>Her outfit is everything you remembered seeing upstairs, a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design that ran across sloping shoulders. Perched atop towering stiletto heels, she looms above you imperiously, the tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup giving her a severe look.<<else>>Dressed in a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design across her shoulders, she is perched atop towering stiletto heels, allowing her to loom above you imperiously. The tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup give her a severe look.<</if>> One that is matched by her tone. "You did not think to check your escape route before undertaking it? How antipodal. And you are in my seat." <<set $EscapeAttempt to false>> <<if $Gear lt 5>>"[[H-huh?->ChairHuh]]" [[Stand up immediately!->ChairStand]] "[[There are open seats all around.->ChairNaughty]]"<<else>>"[[(Gagged) H-hmmmgh?->ChairHuh]]" [[Stand up immediately!->ChairStand]] [[Remain seated, there are chairs all around.->ChairNaughty]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] As your bleary eyes adjust, you see a pair of figures occupy what had once been an empty Control Suite #2. One is familiar, working the control panel to the side. Jacq. The other? <<if $ControlMeet is true>>You had glimpsed her through the window into the Control Suite upstairs, that blue outfit and distinctive poise unmistakable. Jacq speaks up besides her regardless, announcing her clearly.<<else>>She holds herself with an aristocratic poise, gloved hands collected together before her strictly corseted waist. If you had any doubts, Jacq speaks up besides her, an announcement upon their tongue.<</if>> "$Name $LName, you are in the presence of Celestine Amriallis Sargon, 9th in line of House Sargon, blood of the Aekoran Diarch." <<if $ControlMeet is true>>Her outfit is everything you remembered seeing upstairs, a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design that ran across sloping shoulders. Perched atop towering stiletto heels, she looms above you imperiously, the tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup giving her a severe look.<<else>>Dressed in a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design across her shoulders, she is perched atop towering stiletto heels, allowing her to loom above you imperiously. The tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup give her a severe look.<</if>> One that is matched by her tone. "I commend you for the thoroughness of your exploration, to wind up where you are. You are dedicated... and either intensely stupid, or equally submissive, to wind up within one of the Reprogramming Suits //and// a Reprogramming Cell. Are you comfortable?" [[Of course not!->NoRepro]] [[Moan eagerly...->YesRepro]]

You shake your masked head as best you can, the cock gag installed inside your mouth preventing much more there than a desultory mewl. If you were hoping for pity from the Ambassador, however, you find none amongst the acutely tailored makeup that emphasizes her eyes. "Your suit and cell are not intended to be. They are intended to reform you from, in your case, <<if $Back is 1>>an intrepid pilot<<elseif $Back is 2>>a bothersome reporter<<else>>a dedicated scholar<</if>> to a laminate slut. A constantly aroused, intensely submissive, utterly docile slave. The perfect fate for nosy offworlders, especially ones such as yourself who jumped the proverbial gun. The moment you walked into my Embassy, I never intended for you to leave. <<if $Back is 1>>No one can know what you transported for me.<<elseif $Back is 2>>Your investigation was getting dangerously close to becoming a problem.<<else>>No one can know that I sought out an expert of your sort<</if>>. But I had intended to keep you on as a guest, or at worst a patient that I could manipulate easier. But here you are, at the heart of the matter, ready for reprogramming. So be it. Jacq?" As the slave steps up, your mind rails against the Ambassador's words. Not allowed to leave? A danger to her plans? What had you gotten yourself into?! "[[Mmmmmmmggghhh!!!->ScreamRepro]]" "[[Mmmmm...->GoodRepro]]"

You shake your head up and down, moaning through the cock gag installed inside your mouth. The acutely tailored makeup emphasizing the Ambassador's eyes only underlines the firmness of her gaze, but you see a spark of something else there too. "A true submissive, perhaps. Perhaps you will take well to your fate then, your suit and cell are not intended to be comfortable. They are intended to reform you from, in your case, <<if $Back is 1>>an intrepid pilot<<elseif $Back is 2>>a bothersome reporter<<else>>a dedicated scholar<</if>> to a laminate slut. A constantly aroused, intensely submissive, utterly docile slave. The perfect fate for nosy offworlders, especially ones such as yourself who jumped the proverbial gun. The moment you walked into my Embassy, I never intended for you to leave. <<if $Back is 1>>No one can know what you transported for me.<<elseif $Back is 2>>Your investigation was getting dangerously close to becoming a problem.<<else>>No one can know that I sought out an expert of your sort<</if>>. But I had intended to keep you on as a guest, or at worst a patient that I could manipulate easier. But here you are, at the heart of the matter, ready for reprogramming. So be it. Jacq?" As the slave steps up, your mind rails against the Ambassador's words. Not allowed to leave? A danger to her plans? What had you gotten yourself into?! "[[Mmmmmmmggghhh!!!->ScreamRepro]]" "[[Mmmmm...->GoodRepro]]"

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] Taking a place beside their Mistress, Jacq's outfit has changed considerably since you last saw them. Gone are any pieces of cloth or fabric, replaced entirely by smooth laminate. A black catsuit and matching corset, their collar still pulled tightly around their throat. Your confusion is only amplified when you notice Jacq's hips are rather impressive, but their chest is flat. Questions of gender end as they lift a glass datapad, containing what very much looks like to be an itemized list. "I //do love to hear you cry out, but shush now. Since your arrival, $Name, I have been watching you. It is not hard, the Embassy is chock full of cameras. I convinced Mistress to see what sort of person you were, and we learned //a lot//! What exactly, you're probably wondering? Let me tell you." "<<if $TurnedKey is true>>First and foremost, don't even need a camera to know that you turned in that lost key at the receptionist's desk. I'm honestly not surprised Marina lost it, she goes out in that uniform of hers and all the offworlders stare so she gets so adorably flustered... but turning it in earns you big points, $Name. The Ambassador appreciates that.<<set $BadCount -=3>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ControlMeet is true>>I gotta say, it was hard keeping a straight face when I saw you on the cameras looking into the Control Suite, where Mistress and I were talking. But I did, and I gotta point out that snooping like that isn't good behavior. Slaves get the whip for that, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $PlantCum gt 0>>Just a couple doors down from here is our little pheromone demonstration, with the plant, right? And what did you do...? Heh. <<if $PlantCum is 99>>You tried to use it to cum, and you found out just how cruel a chastity-enforcing uniform can be. We've all been there, but still, good boys and girls don't //try// that sort of thing.<<set $BadCount += 3>><<else>>You let yourself get carried away, and used it to cum. $PlantCum times. Watching you was fun, but fact remains: good boys and girls don't do that.<<set $BadCount += $PlantCum>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ComputerOn is true>>You almost inadvertently stopped me from watching you did your next little act of rebellion, when you took down the local network... in the storage closet, remember? Luckily our cameras run on their own system. Either way, yeah, I know you did that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $TookPic gt 0>>I've got a pretty good idea of how you accessed one of our computers, <<if $TookPic is 1>>because I noticed the login attempt. I bet the restraints were a surprise, hmm? It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<else>>but you made it pretty easy by getting caught in the login-picture, didn't you? Heh. Most offworlders take a bit longer before they're submitting to a person, much less //a computer.// It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 2>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Marina gt 0>>Poor Marina. She was an offworlder, you know. Just like you, or me. Perhaps not the smartest to begin with, but she's taken so eagerly to having her libido improved, her proportions filled out, and frequent pheromone treatments... that she is quite air-headed these days. Enough so to allow you to access her profile, hmm? <<if $Marina is 0>>But you didn't turn on any advanced functions. Surprising.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<elseif $Marina is 2>>And then you turned on her edging routine. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 2>><<else>>And then you turned on her punishment routine, mild shocks. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br><</if>> <br><</if>> <<if $TriedFeed is true>>I have to admit you're adventurous, though. You found the vending machine and tried the Slave Feed, didn't you? Even I don't particularly care for the stuff, but the Ambassador is strict with her property. That is all we're allowed to eat. Imagine that, $Name. I wonder... does that excite you? Why else would you willingly eat the stuff?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $FoundRepro is true>>Not only did you go where you weren't supposed to go, of course, but you saw things you weren't supposed to see. Like... one of our monitoring feeds for the //guests// we have upstairs? This one is particularly serious, and one we will address thoroughly, but I can tell you that what you witnessed is... for the betterment of all. Those are bad people in there, $Name.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $CellCum is true>>And then of course you didn't just //look// at what was in the Control Suite, you got... excited, huh? Slaves are meant to look good enough for that, naturally, but you didn't ask for permission. From their owner, of course. Naughty.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $BoxMeet is true>>Then you found a little failed mission of ours, those do happen occasionally you know. The Boxes we use to transport the main component of the Reprogramming suits? <<if $Gear gt 4>>Then you put that mask on, how... delightfully unexpected.<<else>>But you resisted the urge to put the mask on.<</if>> Intrigued? They're more important than you know, even if we don't really understand how they work ourselves.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $GotRecep is true>>Let's turn our attention to what you got to wear though, hmm? That's often the most fun. And you figured out how to get into a Wardrobe Machine, where you printed off one of the Embassy's receptionist outfits. Your first taste of laminate... ah, something I look back fondly on too. I wonder if you took to it readily, or if you find it bothersome? I gotta say, you looked good in it. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Even if you eventually swapped it for what you're wearing now.<<else>>A skirt suits you.<</if>><<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Gear gt 4>>You //really// let that kinky little monster within run wild, didn't you? To end up in one of the Reprogramming Suits... I shudder with //glee// to think about what sort of sordid desires pushed you into that predicament. Nicely plugged, wonderfully chaste, and sucking on the oral gag even now. Without someone to take care of you in there, you must know, you wouldn't last a day. Even if the experience is, or so I would think, //totally maddening.// Heh.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Balled is true>>Then you broke into my room, of all things! And found a little present from my Mistress, waiting for me. That's a new low, even for you. But then again, if that is the sort of things you're going to get into, maybe a set of mitts should be permanently added to your uniform. To keep you out of trouble. Hmm? At least you maintained enough rational thought to not lock yourself to my bed, or something. That would have been, somehow, even more embarrassing for you.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $SawSlave is true>>Oh, and I almost forgot! You found your way inside the slave quarters, and found our own little troublemaker on timeout for the day. The broken datapad nearby, you saw that yeah? The one kept to her cell for the day broke it. But she's learning her lesson, I saw how dutifully submissive she was when she thought someone had come to check on her. Maybe that's what you should aspire towards, $Name?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $EscapeAttempt is true>>Then of course there was your ill-planned little escape attempt. A strike against you for sure, but one I convinced the Ambassador to not take //too// seriously. It was after my idea to give you a bit of leash. Only now comes the tug, heh. <<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ChairAnger is true>>And finally... you were given a direct order from Ambassador Sargon not that long ago, with her chair, and you failed to comply. Adding that one to the list just so I can mention how I //really// don't recommend trying that again. Every slave learns quickly on Torei that disobedience is for fools and soubrettes only, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>>" Drawing themselves up fully, Jacq moves their finger quickly up along the side of the glass device in their hands, returning their list of your supposed... offences? Mistakes? You're not even sure. Either way, they return to the start of it before finally leveling those playful eyes upon you. "$BadCount infractions, by my math. As my Mistress said, we might have used all that to determine your treatment going forward... but you already decided that for us! So we will just keep a record of those for the Clinic, where they will impact-- oh! You did not mention the Clinic directly, Mistress?" [[Infractions... clinic...?->Detention3]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] Taking a place beside their Mistress, Jacq's outfit has changed considerably since you last saw them. Gone are any pieces of cloth or fabric, replaced entirely by smooth laminate. A black catsuit and matching corset, their collar still pulled tightly around their throat. Your confusion is only amplified when you notice Jacq's hips are rather impressive, but their chest is flat. Questions of gender end as they lift a glass datapad, containing what very much looks like to be an itemized list. "I do love to hear you moan, but... for now? Shush. Since your arrival, $Name, I have been watching you. It is not hard, the Embassy is chock full of cameras. I convinced Mistress to see what sort of person you were, and we learned //a lot//! What exactly, you're probably wondering? Let me tell you." "<<if $TurnedKey is true>>First and foremost, don't even need a camera to know that you turned in that lost key at the receptionist's desk. I'm honestly not surprised Marina lost it, she goes out in that uniform of hers and all the offworlders stare so she gets so adorably flustered... but turning it in earns you big points, $Name. The Ambassador appreciates that.<<set $BadCount -=3>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ControlMeet is true>>I gotta say, it was hard keeping a straight face when I saw you on the cameras looking into the Control Suite, where Mistress and I were talking. But I did, and I gotta point out that snooping like that isn't good behavior. Slaves get the whip for that, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $PlantCum gt 0>>Just a couple doors down from here is our little pheromone demonstration, with the plant, right? And what did you do...? Heh. <<if $PlantCum is 99>>You tried to use it to cum, and you found out just how cruel a chastity-enforcing uniform can be. We've all been there, but still, good boys and girls don't //try// that sort of thing.<<set $BadCount += 3>><<else>>You let yourself get carried away, and used it to cum. $PlantCum times. Watching you was fun, but fact remains: good boys and girls don't do that.<<set $BadCount += $PlantCum>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ComputerOn is true>>You almost inadvertently stopped me from watching you did your next little act of rebellion, when you took down the local network... in the storage closet, remember? Luckily our cameras run on their own system. Either way, yeah, I know you did that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $TookPic gt 0>>I've got a pretty good idea of how you accessed one of our computers, <<if $TookPic is 1>>because I noticed the login attempt. I bet the restraints were a surprise, hmm? It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<else>>but you made it pretty easy by getting caught in the login-picture, didn't you? Heh. Most offworlders take a bit longer before they're submitting to a person, much less //a computer.// It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 2>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Marina gt 0>>Poor Marina. She was an offworlder, you know. Just like you, or me. Perhaps not the smartest to begin with, but she's taken so eagerly to having her libido improved, her proportions filled out, and frequent pheromone treatments... that she is quite air-headed these days. Enough so to allow you to access her profile, hmm? <<if $Marina is 0>>But you didn't turn on any advanced functions. Surprising.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<elseif $Marina is 2>>And then you turned on her edging routine. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 2>><<else>>And then you turned on her punishment routine, mild shocks. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br><</if>> <br><</if>> <<if $TriedFeed is true>>I have to admit you're adventurous, though. You found the vending machine and tried the Slave Feed, didn't you? Even I don't particularly care for the stuff, but the Ambassador is strict with her property. That is all we're allowed to eat. Imagine that, $Name. I wonder... does that excite you? Why else would you willingly eat the stuff?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $FoundRepro is true>>Not only did you go where you weren't supposed to go, of course, but you saw things you weren't supposed to see. Like... one of our monitoring feeds for the //guests// we have upstairs? This one is particularly serious, and one we will address thoroughly, but I can tell you that what you witnessed is... for the betterment of all. Those are bad people in there, $Name.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $CellCum is true>>And then of course you didn't just //look// at what was in the Control Suite, you got... excited, huh? Slaves are meant to look good enough for that, naturally, but you didn't ask for permission. From their owner, of course. Naughty.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $BoxMeet is true>>Then you found a little failed mission of ours, those do happen occasionally you know. The Boxes we use to transport the main component of the Reprogramming suits? <<if $Gear gt 4>>Then you put that mask on, how... delightfully unexpected.<<else>>But you resisted the urge to put the mask on.<</if>> Intrigued? They're more important than you know, even if we don't really understand how they work ourselves.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $GotRecep is true>>Let's turn our attention to what you got to wear though, hmm? That's often the most fun. And you figured out how to get into a Wardrobe Machine, where you printed off one of the Embassy's receptionist outfits. Your first taste of laminate... ah, something I look back fondly on too. I wonder if you took to it readily, or if you find it bothersome? I gotta say, you looked good in it. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Even if you eventually swapped it for what you're wearing now.<<else>>A skirt suits you.<</if>><<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Gear gt 4>>You //really// let that kinky little monster within run wild, didn't you? To end up in one of the Reprogramming Suits... I shudder with //glee// to think about what sort of sordid desires pushed you into that predicament. Nicely plugged, wonderfully chaste, and sucking on the oral gag even now. Without someone to take care of you in there, you must know, you wouldn't last a day. Even if the experience is, or so I would think, //totally maddening.// Heh.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Balled is true>>Then you broke into my room, of all things! And found a little present from my Mistress, waiting for me. That's a new low, even for you. But then again, if that is the sort of things you're going to get into, maybe a set of mitts should be permanently added to your uniform. To keep you out of trouble. Hmm? At least you maintained enough rational thought to not lock yourself to my bed, or something. That would have been, somehow, even more embarrassing for you.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $SawSlave is true>>Oh, and I almost forgot! You found your way inside the slave quarters, and found our own little troublemaker on timeout for the day. The broken datapad nearby, you saw that yeah? The one kept to her cell for the day broke it. But she's learning her lesson, I saw how dutifully submissive she was when she thought someone had come to check on her. Maybe that's what you should aspire towards, $Name?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $EscapeAttempt is true>>Then of course there was your ill-planned little escape attempt. A strike against you for sure, but one I convinced the Ambassador to not take //too// seriously. It was after my idea to give you a bit of leash. Only now comes the tug, heh. <<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ChairAnger is true>>And finally... you were given a direct order from Ambassador Sargon not that long ago, with her chair, and you failed to comply. Adding that one to the list just so I can mention how I //really// don't recommend trying that again. Every slave learns quickly on Torei that disobedience is for fools and soubrettes only, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>>" Drawing themselves up fully, Jacq moves their finger quickly up along the side of the glass device in their hands, returning their list of your supposed... offences? Mistakes? You're not even sure. Either way, they return to the start of it before finally leveling those playful eyes upon you. "$BadCount infractions, by my math. As my Mistress said, we might have used all that to determine your treatment going forward... but you already decided that for us! So we will just keep a record of those for the Clinic, where they will impact-- oh! You did not mention the Clinic directly, Mistress?" [[Infractions... clinic...?->Detention3]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] "I have," the Ambassador replies, stepping back up. "It will take about two and a half weeks to reach Torei, after which you will be transferred into the care of a Clinic I am working with. The good Doctor will ensure that your reprogramming is completed in a few months, and then you will be assigned to a menial role as a slave somewhere. Or perhaps even in my own household? Hmm. Something to consider. But as for now, Jacq, put them back into the cell and start the full program. You know the drill. Ah, and..." "...a proper collar," Jacq grins, eyeing you with manic excitement. Of course, Mistress." The Ambassador takes her leave without another word, leaving you alone with Jacq, a laminate gloved hand running up to push their hair from their eyes. "Ready?" [[No!->ReproStart]] [[...yes.->ReproStart]] [[Its not like you have a choice...->ReproStart]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] Eying you with ready amusement, Jacq suddenly rolls their eyes. "One more thing, almost forgot. Before we start fucking every hint of resistance out of your little head, there is something else you need. The most important something, in fact." [img[setup.ImagePath+'maincollar.png']] They produce a rounded band of steel, smooth and immaculate, light running in circles around it. A singular ring hangs from the front, but otherwise the design is seamless, at least until Jacq taps two fingers to the back. There a line suddenly forms, the thick metal peeling apart as if a hinge had always existed there. Standing open like that, it almost looks harmless, if quite heavy. But the implication is obvious: that's a collar. "May I?" Jacq asks, indicating your neck. [[Lift your chin submissively.->NoSuitCol]] [[Shake your head, no!->YesSuitCol]]

You nearly fall over as you stumble widely, your fingers running along the mask's straps, trying to find some give. But the slick laminate they were constructed of now presses tightly into the equally slick material of the hood, the impossibility of your intentions becoming clear, especially as your fingers land upon something you hadn't noticed previously: a small bit of metal, square-shaped with a loop hooked into one of the straps. //A padlock.// <div class="comppurp">Subject #15 acquired.</div> Your struggling is interrupted by the words that appear before your vision, projected upon what you could consider to be the mask's HUD. Inhaling heavily, still trying to get a rhythm down when every breath felt like it was drawn in through a straw, you feel a hand on your arm. Jacq? "Just follow me, a few steps." Guiding you forward, you step carefully, wary of bumping into anything nearby. Breathing is still difficult but you're getting better at it, although the effort required is substantial regardless. More readily, you're at least confident in your direction-- you're moving further into the room. The wall should be coming up soon, but the waypoint is very close now. Two more steps, one more... You feel yourself step not onto another portion of the floor, but something tiled. Trying to visualize the room, you plot on where you've been led, even as you reach out, your hands suddenly finding a curved, tiled wall. <<if $Gear gt 2>>The only thing you've seen that has been tiled here... is a Wardrobe Device!<<else>>Where the hell are you!?<</if>> The sudden whisk of something closing behind you is combined with the waypoint disappearing, and your vision returning. You glance around, eager to get your bearings, even if it is difficult through the visor of the mask. You're in a small cylinder-like room, floor and walls tiled. The door behind you has closed, even as some of the more strangely-shaped tiles suddenly lift out of the way. <<if $Gear gt 2>><<link "Arms emerge..." "SecMask4">><</link>><<else>><<link "Arms emerge..." "JumpMask4">><</link>><</if>>

<<if $Gender is 1>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repromale.png']]<<set $Gear to 6>><<else>>[img[setup.ImagePath+'repro.jpg']]<<set $Gear to 5>><</if>> @@.addbox;Reprogramming Suit #15, Installed.@@ With a final distinctive hiss, the arms withdraw, and you are finally allowed to emerge back out into the gloomy darkness of the room you had entered seemingly so long ago. It had been only minutes, you presume, but looking down at yourself you feel as if you've been gone for days, or months. How else could you explain what you now look down upon? You're a //thing// of black laminate now, the curvature of the flesh beneath the tight material the only hint of your humanity. You have no face, just a black visor dark. No mouth to speak, only the sensation of a cock between your lips. And no way to escape-- not that you can immediately see, at least. Checking each portion of your suit, from the heeled boots to the corset at your waist, to the bands at your ankles, wrists, and throat, you find nothing but locks. Some of them appear to be cleverly designed mag-locks, a common galactic feature, small and thin enough you cannot even tell they are there without rubbing a gloved finger near a seal, to feel a slightly harder portion of suit. Others however, those at the back of your helmet, at your corset, and on your cuffs, are more obvious-- they are padlocks in the archaic style, simple steel with a hole for a key. A whistle breaks your concentration, a glance up revealing Jacq before you, ogling openly. "Look at //you!// Wow!" They circle you, the dim light of the room nevertheless catching the exposed teeth of a wide smile. "All sealed in, and ready for some //fun//, huh? I'd really love to play with you... but I have my orders. You have a cozy cell waiting for you!" Indicating that you should follow, and with those guards that had accompanied you briefly visible outside the door of the room, you have little choice. Jacq leads the way over to one of the three panel sets on the wall, nimble fingers bringing up several command windows quickly. After a moment they glance to the side, where a black monolith of slightly glossy material awaits-- and suddenly cracks open, a seam appearing where none had been visible before. Splitting directly down the middle, it opens like an obsidian maw, the light of the monitoring panels casting a slightly violet light into what was otherwise darkness. Leaning forward, you gaze into the depths of Torean peculiarity. What you find is a thickly padded interior, a curious touch confirming it was more laminate, as black as your suit. A mostly human-shaped silhouette is cut into that padding, in a strict posture with legs spread, bent forward at the waist with arms back. <<if $FoundRepro is true>>You have seen this pose before, of course, in the figure of the person you had observed in another of the cells.<<else>>Imagining the cell closed once more you can only imagine how uncomfortable such a position would be.<</if>> Several restraints are visible as well, slack straps at ankle, thigh, and waist, with something for the arms you suppose looking like a laminate bag of some sort. Other waiting accessories are less clear in their intended use, tubes running near where the inhabitants thighs would meet for instance. Just what those could be used for is interrupted by a blinking message upon your visor's HUD. <div class="comppurp">Compliant Slaves May Be Allowed to Cum.</div> Altogether... altogether it looks like nothing less than a hellish tomb crossed with strange and unthinkable fetishes. And the system that operated it had called this... //your// cell. Could you imagine yourself in such a place? Locked into a strict stance, incapable of moving, when the doors closed? There would be no light inside, no chance to escape... and you're about to experience. [[In you go...->LateMask4]]

Hesitantly, you step forward. <<if $Gender is 1>>@@color:yellow;Your cock strains within the padded prison of your bulge, the promise of its frustration ending too much to ignore.@@<<else>>@@color:yellow;Your slickened cunt and the phallus locked within it aches, the promise of its frustration ending too much to ignore.@@<</if>> Hesitating for only a moment longer, your turn around, and back into the vaguely you-shaped outline within the cell's thick padding. Only then does your rational mind reassert itself, your masked head looking down, questioning just what the hell you were doing. //Your// cell? This suit was not yours, how could this-- <div class="comppurp">Good <<if $Gender is 1>>Boy.<<else>>Girl.<</if>></div> The sudden flash of words upon your mask heralds movement from behind, the confines of your mask making it hard to make out exactly what was happening-- but you certainly feel it. As if a dozen different hands had suddenly seized you, you're pulled back into the soft confines of the molded laminate. Only somewhat matching the shape of your body at first, you're surprised to see the material surrounding you shifting to your exact specifications, even as the various restraints snapping sharply into place. Ankles, thighs, a band at your hips, they encircle your body then pull in tightly, pressing you even further into the molded laminate now cupping your every curve. In response you begin to move your arms, but the laminate bag you had been brushing up against is already around them, and tightening quickly. Before you fully realize what is occurring your limbs are pulled tightly together, elbow to elbow, your shoulders already aching. The only remaining means of resistance comes naturally to you, as you bend forward at the waist, anything to escape the laminate now molded to your body, but that is //exactly// what the infernal device wanted. The laminate padding against your back expands immediately filling the space above your arms. No longer could you stand back up event if you had wanted to, the space now occupied, your bent-over posture enforced. [[Scream. Now!->LateScreamCell]] [[Fight! Fight!->LateFightCell]] [[Everything is so delightfully tight...->LateTightCell]]

<<set $Strike += 1>><<if $Strike is 1>>You pull with ferocious strength against your self-imposed restraints. The chains go taut, the cuffs securing you tremble with sudden conflict... and nothing budges. You try again, and again, but each time is much the same. You have to commend yourself for the thoroughness of your self-imposed predicament, but that really isn't helping your growing sense of panic. Or... is that arousal? You really need to focus on getting out of here.<<elseif $Strike is 2>>Taking a deep breath, <<if $Gear lt 3>>trying to focus,<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>as best you can manage through your mask,<<else>>your laminate covered chest rising and falling,<</if>> you make another attempt at it. You had gotten yourself into this, you could get yourself out, right? Common sense seemed to suggest just that... although your experience with self-bondage isn't particularly high. For example, you may have been able to secure your last arm by using the almost automatic locking mechanism on that last cuff, but now? It holds you securely, your wrist incapable of bending far enough to allow your hands to even reach the buckles necessary to undo it all. This isn't going well.<<else>>Desperately you writhe in the bondage keeping you spread out upon the bed, the chairs locked to your limbs going taut, then dropping back to just a tantalizing //hint// of slack before you start again. Twice, three times, half a dozen-- they all end in the same defeat. You've really gotten yourself into trouble here, haven't you? The sudden sound of footsteps in the hall outside sends you to full alert, eyes widened as you cease your struggling, trying to listen. Someone was coming... directly towards you, in fact.<</if>> <<if $Strike lt 3>>[[Keep fighting!->StruggleBed]] [[Maybe... maybe think about this all instead...?->ContemplateBed]]<<else>>[[You brace for their arrival.->BedArrive]]<</if>>

<<set $Strike += 1>><<if $Strike is 1>>The idea strikes with all the force of a cold water bath, or a slap to the face. You... belong here, like this? Locked to a bed, incapable of escape, <<if $Gear gt 2>>in full laminate?<<else>>for who knew how long?<</if>> <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ You try to force the idea from your mind, but how could you when every shifting movement sees your restraints click? Self-imposed as they are, you cannot help but find a subtle sense of... comfort? You're not even sure how to define it. Strangely, having your options forward reduced does seem to calm you somewhat, at least when it came to anxiety. You're still quite horny, of course.<<elseif $Strike is 2>>Ruminating on your predicament, you wonder what it would be like to sleep like this every night-- locking yourself in, or having another doing it. To fall asleep in the strict embrace of bondage, only to awaken incapable of escaping it... until someone came to assist you, of course. Total helplessness... <<set $Arou += 10>>@@.addarou;+10 Arousal!@@ Why does that seem so appealing?<<else>>Daydreaming about someone approaching to free you quickly turns into something far more real, as your head lifts from the bed, recognizing reality from the deluge of fantasy. Someone was coming! One set of footsteps, no-- two? No! More than that! They had to be in the hallway just outside, each step bringing them closer and closer to your self-imposed situation.<</if>> <<if $Strike lt 3>>[[Maybe this is... where you belong...?->ContemplateBed]] [[Maybe trying fighting to escape!->StruggleBed]]<<else>>[[You brace for their arrival.->BedArrive]]<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] The game, so to speak, is up as a party of four enter, who was first among them immediately clear. <<if $ControlMeet is true>>You had glimpsed her through the window into the Control Suite upstairs, that blue outfit and distinctive poise unmistakable. Jacq steps up besides her regardless, announcing her clearly.<<else>>She holds herself with an aristocratic poise, gloved hands collected together before her strictly corseted waist. If you had any doubts, Jacq steps up besides her, an announcement upon their tongue.<</if>> "$Name $LName, you are in the presence of Celestine Amriallis Sargon, 9th in line of House Sargon, blood of the Aekoran Diarch." <<if $ControlMeet is true>>Her outfit is everything you remembered seeing upstairs, a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design that ran across sloping shoulders. Perched atop towering stiletto heels, she looms above you imperiously, the tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup giving her a severe look.<<else>>Dressed in a gleaming blue ensemble that framed her expansive chest in a frilled and feathered design across her shoulders, she is perched atop towering stiletto heels, allowing her to loom above you imperiously. The tight ponytail of her raven hair and immaculate makeup give her a severe look.<</if>> One that is matched by her tone. "Of all the outcomes I thought possible, letting you roam about as you have been, this was perhaps last on the list of possibility. Look at yourself." <<if $Gear gt 4>>"[[Mmmmmmghhh!->ExplainBed]]" "[[Mmmmgh...->SorryBed]]"<<else>>"[[I can explain everything!->ExplainBed]]" "[[I didn't mean to do this!->SorryBed]]"<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] Your <<if $Gear gt 4>>gagged<</if>> protestations are met with steely silence from the Ambassador standing above you, hands up on her wide hips. Filling the silence however, Jacq steps up quickly, their outfit having changed dramatically since your last meeting. Gone are any pieces of cloth or fabric, replaced entirely by smooth laminate. A black catsuit and matching corset, their collar still pulled tightly around their throat. Your confusion is only amplified when you notice Jacq's hips are rather impressive, but their chest is flat. Questions of gender end as their smile widens, before they look back over their shoulder. "Honestly, Mistress-- this is unexpected for me too." Turning back to you, Jacq's cheshire smile is as inescapable as your bondage. "I was watching you, from the start. My Mistress expected you to get into trouble, and I wanted to see how much you could manage. Turns out quite a bit! Gotta give it to you for that. And then you made it //really// easy on us by trussing yourself up, //in my bed// of all places. Heh!" The Ambassador intercedes then. "Given how deeply you got into my Embassy, the things you have done and seen, you will not be allowed to leave. <<if $Back is 1>>I appreciate your efforts to transport the package you were entrusted with, <<if $Pock.includes('The Box')>>I will be taking it from you<<else>>although I see that you are no longer in possession of it.<</if>> Yet this only demonstrates further need for your detention, I cannot have my efforts spoiled by your leaking of what you carried.<<elseif $Back is 2>>Your dedication to your craft must be commended, you were indeed getting close to a matter of importance in your journalistic investigation. Yet this only demonstrates further need for your detention-- I cannot have your snooping continue.<<else>>I appreciate the effort you made to come to me, and I do indeed have many questions for someone of your expertise. Yet this only demonstrates further the need for your detention. I cannot have knowledge of my intentions get back to Torei.<</if>>" <<if $Gear gt 4>>"[[Mmmmghhh!?->BedTransfer2]]"<<else>>"[[You can't do that!->BedTransfer2]]"<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] Your <<if $Gear gt 4>>gagged<</if>> attempts to play down the situation are met with steely silence from the Ambassador standing above you, hands up on her wide hips. Filling the silence however, Jacq steps up quickly, their outfit having changed dramatically since your last meeting. Gone are any pieces of cloth or fabric, replaced entirely by smooth laminate. A black catsuit and matching corset, their collar still pulled tightly around their throat. Your confusion is only amplified when you notice Jacq's hips are rather impressive, but their chest is flat. Questions of gender end as their smile widens, before they look back over their shoulder. "Honestly, Mistress-- this is unexpected for me too." Turning back to you, Jacq's cheshire smile is as inescapable as your bondage. "I was watching you, from the start. My Mistress expected you to get into trouble, and I wanted to see how much you could manage. Turns out quite a bit! Gotta give it to you for that. And then you made it //really// easy on us by trussing yourself up, //in my bed// of all places. Heh!" The Ambassador intercedes then. "Given how deeply you got into my Embassy, the things you have done and seen, you will not be allowed to leave. <<if $Back is 1>>I appreciate your efforts to transport the package you were entrusted with, <<if $Pock.includes('The Box')>>I will be taking it from you<<else>>although I see that you are no longer in possession of it.<</if>> Yet this only demonstrates further need for your detention, I cannot have my efforts spoiled by your leaking of what you carried.<<elseif $Back is 2>>Your dedication to your craft must be commended, you were indeed getting close to a matter of importance in your journalistic investigation. Yet this only demonstrates further need for your detention-- I cannot have your snooping continue.<<else>>I appreciate the effort you made to come to me, and I do indeed have many questions for someone of your expertise. Yet this only demonstrates further the need for your detention. I cannot have knowledge of my intentions get back to Torei.<</if>>" <<if $Gear gt 4>>"[[Mmmmghhh!?->BedTransfer2]]"<<else>>"[[You can't do that!->BedTransfer2]]"<</if>>

[img[setup.ImagePath+'jacq2.png']] "Maybe it would help if I reminded you of what //else// you've done, yeah?" Jacq's question is followed by their producing of a glass datapad, upon which a towering deluge of data begins running down. Flicking away several opened panels, they bring up what very much looks like an automated list. "Where to start... hmm... ah!" "<<if $TurnedKey is true>>First and foremost, don't even need a camera to know that you turned in that lost key at the receptionist's desk. I'm honestly not surprised Marina lost it, she goes out in that uniform of hers and all the offworlders stare so she gets so adorably flustered... but turning it in earns you big points, $Name. The Ambassador appreciates that.<<set $BadCount -=3>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ControlMeet is true>>I gotta say, it was hard keeping a straight face when I saw you on the cameras looking into the Control Suite, where Mistress and I were talking. But I did, and I gotta point out that snooping like that isn't good behavior. Slaves get the whip for that, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $PlantCum gt 0>>Just a couple doors down from here is our little pheromone demonstration, with the plant, right? And what did you do...? Heh. <<if $PlantCum is 99>>You tried to use it to cum, and you found out just how cruel a chastity-enforcing uniform can be. We've all been there, but still, good boys and girls don't //try// that sort of thing.<<set $BadCount += 3>><<else>>You let yourself get carried away, and used it to cum. $PlantCum times. Watching you was fun, but fact remains: good boys and girls don't do that.<<set $BadCount += $PlantCum>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ComputerOn is true>>You almost inadvertently stopped me from watching you did your next little act of rebellion, when you took down the local network... in the storage closet, remember? Luckily our cameras run on their own system. Either way, yeah, I know you did that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $TookPic gt 0>>I've got a pretty good idea of how you accessed one of our computers, <<if $TookPic is 1>>because I noticed the login attempt. I bet the restraints were a surprise, hmm? It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<else>>but you made it pretty easy by getting caught in the login-picture, didn't you? Heh. Most offworlders take a bit longer before they're submitting to a person, much less //a computer.// It was actually me that authorized your release there, I wasn't done having fun with you yet.<<set $BadCount += 2>><</if>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Marina gt 0>>Poor Marina. She was an offworlder, you know. Just like you, or me. Perhaps not the smartest to begin with, but she's taken so eagerly to having her libido improved, her proportions filled out, and frequent pheromone treatments... that she is quite air-headed these days. Enough so to allow you to access her profile, hmm? <<if $Marina is 0>>But you didn't turn on any advanced functions. Surprising.<<set $BadCount += 1>><<elseif $Marina is 2>>And then you turned on her edging routine. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 2>><<else>>And then you turned on her punishment routine, mild shocks. She has a full set of rainbow implants, you know. They can be //torturous// when you turn them on like that.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br><</if>> <br><</if>> <<if $TriedFeed is true>>I have to admit you're adventurous, though. You found the vending machine and tried the Slave Feed, didn't you? Even I don't particularly care for the stuff, but the Ambassador is strict with her property. That is all we're allowed to eat. Imagine that, $Name. I wonder... does that excite you? Why else would you willingly eat the stuff?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $FoundRepro is true>>Not only did you go where you weren't supposed to go, of course, but you saw things you weren't supposed to see. Like... one of our monitoring feeds for the //guests// we have upstairs? This one is particularly serious, and one we will address thoroughly, but I can tell you that what you witnessed is... for the betterment of all. Those are bad people in there, $Name.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $CellCum is true>>And then of course you didn't just //look// at what was in the Control Suite, you got... excited, huh? Slaves are meant to look good enough for that, naturally, but you didn't ask for permission. From their owner, of course. Naughty.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $BoxMeet is true>>Then you found a little failed mission of ours, those do happen occasionally you know. The Boxes we use to transport the main component of the Reprogramming suits? <<if $Gear gt 4>>Then you put that mask on, how... delightfully unexpected.<<else>>But you resisted the urge to put the mask on.<</if>> Intrigued? They're more important than you know, even if we don't really understand how they work ourselves.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $GotRecep is true>>Let's turn our attention to what you got to wear though, hmm? That's often the most fun. And you figured out how to get into a Wardrobe Machine, where you printed off one of the Embassy's receptionist outfits. Your first taste of laminate... ah, something I look back fondly on too. I wonder if you took to it readily, or if you find it bothersome? I gotta say, you looked good in it. <<if $Gear gt 4>>Even if you eventually swapped it for what you're wearing now.<<else>>A skirt suits you.<</if>><<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Gear gt 4>>You //really// let that kinky little monster within run wild, didn't you? To end up in one of the Reprogramming Suits... I shudder with //glee// to think about what sort of sordid desires pushed you into that predicament. Nicely plugged, wonderfully chaste, and sucking on the oral gag even now. Without someone to take care of you in there, you must know, you wouldn't last a day. Even if the experience is, or so I would think, //totally maddening.// Heh.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $Balled is true>>Then you broke into my room, of all things! And found a little present from my Mistress, waiting for me. That's a new low, even for you. But then again, if that is the sort of things you're going to get into, maybe a set of mitts should be permanently added to your uniform. To keep you out of trouble. And now you're on my bed... somehow, that's even more embarrassing for you.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $SawSlave is true>>Oh, and I almost forgot! You found your way inside the slave quarters, and found our own little troublemaker on timeout for the day. The broken datapad nearby, you saw that yeah? The one kept to her cell for the day broke it. But she's learning her lesson, I saw how dutifully submissive she was when she thought someone had come to check on her. Maybe that's what you should aspire towards, $Name?<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $EscapeAttempt is true>>Then of course there was your ill-planned little escape attempt. A strike against you for sure, but one I convinced the Ambassador to not take //too// seriously. It was after my idea to give you a bit of leash. Only now comes the tug, heh. <<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>> <<if $ChairAnger is true>>And finally... you were given a direct order from Ambassador Sargon not that long ago, with her chair, and you failed to comply. Adding that one to the list just so I can mention how I //really// don't recommend trying that again. Every slave learns quickly on Torei that disobedience is for fools and soubrettes only, you know.<<set $BadCount += 1>><br> <br><</if>>" Drawing themselves up fully, Jacq moves their finger quickly up along the side of the glass device in their hands, returning their list of your supposed... offences? Mistakes? You're not even sure. Either way, they return to the start of it before finally leveling those playful eyes upon you. "$BadCount infractions, by my math. So... lots of talk, but what does it mean, right? What does my Mistress mean by //detention?// Well..." [[This can't be good.->BedTransfer3]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'sargonblue.png']] The Ambassador answers the question, the flow of spoken words between herself and her slave clearly well conditioned. They make a good team. <<if $BadCount gt 12 and $Gear lt 5>>"Take the slave to Control Suite #2, and prime the Wardrobe for suiting. I want them sealed into the uniform and locked into their cell. I will be prepping the ship for departure, and we will transfer them to the good Doctor when we reach home. Jacq?"<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>"Take the slave to their cell in Control Suite #2. Run a diagnostic to make sure that suit was installed properly without our supervision, but otherwise I want them locked into their cell before take-off. We will transfer them to the good Doctor when we reach home. I will be prepping for departure. Jacq?"<<elseif $BadCount gt 5>>"Take them to a Wardrobe, and put them in a patient uniform. Then confine them in one of the slave cells until we reach Torei. We will transfer them to the good Doctor then. Jacq?"<<else>>"Take our guest to one of the rooms on the second level, and make sure they don't wander. The good Doctor will watch over them when we reach Torei. Jacq?"<</if>> The androgynous slave steps up, blonde hair shifting as they nod readily. "It would be my pleasure, Mistress!" <<if $BadCount gt 12 and $Gear lt 5>>[[Unlocked from the bed, you're dragged away...->GetSlaveLate]]<<elseif $Gear gt 4>>[[Unlocked from the bed, you're dragged away...->StraighttoCell]]<<elseif $BadCount gt 5>>[[Unlocked from the bed, you're dragged away...->PatientOutfit]]<<else>>[[Unlocked from the bed, you're led away...->GoodTransfer]]<</if>> <<set $BadCount += 5>>

@@.center; [img[setup.ImagePath+'maincollar.png']] ''Slave Collar:'' //your slave collar is of simple construction, but tremendous importance. Seemingly built of a singular piece of unbroken steel, you nevertheless know that if provided with an unlock command hidden seams appear, allowing release. Otherwise, however, there is absolutely no chance of ever removing it. A ring at the front allows for the easy connection of leashes or restraints, but the truly restrictive component is the embedded identification chip. Capable of being scanned at a moment's notice, even if your collar itself is hidden or covered, the data within undeniably identifies you as little more than property. You are one of the night uncountable slaves who reside on Torei. @@

Narrowing their eyes, Jacq suddenly-- and rather impishly-- sticks their tongue out at you. "Fine. For the record, I //did// ask nicely. Girls?" The pair of guards that had accompanied you move with resolute focus, their lithe forms nevertheless capable of considerable strength. Seizing your arms, one of them forces your chin up with her palm, the laminate of her glove as soft as her intentions are hard. So immediately disarmed of anything like the capability for resistance, Jacq slides in, lifting the collar to your throat. It is cold at first, but warms quickly as they slide it into place. With a distinctive, and undeniably //final// click it closes shut. Jacq's hands retreat, but the collar-- your collar-- remains. @@.addbox;Slave Collar Added.@@<<run $Inv.push('Slave Collar')>> You've gleaned enough information about Torei to know what a collar meant to them, and if you truly were being taken to the planet... you want to think on it further, but Jacq intervenes again, their hands landing upon your shoulders. At a gesture, the guards release you. "It would have been better if you had taken it willingly, some of us do. But either way... welcome to the team, $Name." They wink. "Oh-- and I'm gonna mark this little incident on your sheet for the Clinic. Every naughty little act of rebellion counts, you know? Heh." <<set $BadCount += 1>> [[And with that, you're pushed suddenly back, into the open maw of the Wardrobe...->PatientTime]]

Widening their eyes, Jacq suddenly-- and rather impishly-- kisses your forehead. "I just //knew// you were the sort!" Reaching forward, to tip your chin up just so, the collar is lifted and positioned. It is cold at first, but warms quickly as Jacq slides it into place. With a distinctive, and undeniably //final// click it closes shut. Jacq's hands retreat, but the collar-- your collar-- remains. @@.addbox;Slave Collar Added.@@<<run $Inv.push('Slave Collar')>> You've gleaned enough information about Torei to know what a collar meant to them, and if you truly were being taken to the planet... you want to think on it further, but Jacq intervenes again, their hands landing upon your shoulders. At a gesture, the guards release you. "The circumstances aren't ideal, but I just know you will take well to all this. Welcome to the team, $Name." They wink. "Oh-- and I'm gonna mark this little incident on your sheet for the Clinic. Every submissive act should be rewarded, right? Heh." <<set $BadCount -= 1>> [[And with that, you're pushed suddenly back, into the open maw of the Wardrobe...->PatientTime]]

[img[setup.ImagePath+'capsule.png']] Time passes. Slowly. And there is little denying you're a prisoner of the Ambassador's. The cell you've been relegated to is a small thing, not nearly tall enough for you to stand, just a bit longer than necessary to lay down. There is no bed, or means of entertainment, just a slightly raised "bed" that consisted of little more a padded section of the cell floor. The walls are bare white, as is the door, although to your perspective it is just the fourth wall-- differentiated by being glass. You cannot look out, but suspect anyone in the hallway outside could look in. Sometimes those strangely silent guards do, the door opening to deliver your meals, but otherwise you are left in utter isolation. And then you start forgetting things. It is hard to tell, exactly, but one day you wake to find you cannot remember the last. Or was it... the day before? Are you going mad? No. You're too keen for that, too observant-- and you catch it rather quickly. There, through the brief window in which your cell door is opened, you gaze out just after a meal to find something left behind in the hallway. A scrap of packaging, labeled *Mem-Burn.* Some sort of... drug, then? Perhaps given to you via your food? You haven't forgotten anything like your exploration of the Embassy, but the idea that you //could// be forgetting something is terrifying enough. You resolve to broach the question, to demand greater answers, the next opportunity you get. An opportunity that never comes. Instead, one day, your meal time is broken off suddenly by the arrival of two guards, one of them bearing a syringe. It had perhaps been two weeks, about the time necessary to arrive on Torei, but they don't care about that. Holding you down, forcibly, you're given a sedative... <<set $Strike to 0>> [[...and drift off into a deep slumber.->PatientTime2]]

Widening their eyes, Jacq suddenly-- and rather impishly-- kisses your laminate covered forehead. "I just //knew// you were the sort!" Reaching forward, it is the simplest of acts to put their palm to your chin, forcing it up. So immediately disarmed of anything like the capability for resistance, Jacq slides in, lifting the collar to your throat. It is cold at first, but warms quickly as they put it into place. With a distinctive, and undeniably //final// click it closes shut. Jacq's hands retreat, but the collar-- your collar-- remains. @@.addbox;Slave Collar Added.@@<<run $Inv.push('Slave Collar')>> You've gleaned enough information about Torei to know what a collar meant to them, and if you truly were being taken to the planet... you want to think on it further, but you're locked into more bondage than you ever thought possible, entombed in layers of black laminate. Thinking hard on anything is difficult, and besides, Jacq leans in again. "The circumstances aren't ideal, but I just know you will take well to all this. Welcome to the team, $Name." They wink. "Oh-- and I'm gonna mark this little incident on your sheet for the Clinic. Every submissive act should be rewarded, right? Heh." <<set $BadCount -= 1>><<set $Strike to 0>> [[And with that, Jacq pushes a button, and the cell doors start to close...->SuitTime]]

Narrowing their eyes, Jacq suddenly-- and rather impishly-- sticks their tongue out at you. "Fine. For the record, I //did// ask nicely. Up you go." Reaching forward, it is the simplest of acts to put their palm to your chin, forcing it up. So immediately disarmed of anything like the capability for resistance, Jacq slides in, lifting the collar to your throat. It is cold at first, but warms quickly as they put it into place. With a distinctive, and undeniably //final// click it closes shut. Jacq's hands retreat, but the collar-- your collar-- remains. @@.addbox;Slave Collar Added.@@<<run $Inv.push('Slave Collar')>> You've gleaned enough information about Torei to know what a collar meant to them, and if you truly were being taken to the planet... you want to think on it further, but you're locked into more bondage than you ever thought possible, entombed in layers of black laminate. Thinking hard on anything is difficult, and besides, Jacq leans in again. "It would have been better if you had taken it willingly, some of us do. But either way... welcome to the team, $Name." They wink. "Oh-- and I'm gonna mark this little incident on your sheet for the Clinic. Every naughty little act of rebellion counts, you know? Heh." <<set $BadCount += 1>><<set $Strike to 0>> [[And with that, Jacq pushes a button, and the cell doors start to close...->SuitTime]]

You have reached the end of the still in development LAMINATE CALLING! Thanks for playing! Tune in next time for the ride to Torei, and the intervention on your behalf by Evangeline Naram-Sin! (If you played the first, quite different, demo you will remember her.) Your starting situation with her will be dependent on the $BadCount points you earned through the Embassy, and that Jacq explained to you! Work to undo, //or deepen// the strict hold of [[your contract!->Contract]] And look forward to visiting: 1) The Doctor's Clinic -- Get your physical proportions improved! -- Submit to your scheduled treatments! -- Embrace your //sexual deviancy!// -- Uncover the connection between the good Doctor and the Ambassador! 2) Anastasia's Catgirl Cabaret -- Enjoying the attentions of the catgirl slaves... -- ...or find yourself joining them! -- Uncover the role of the smuggler and crime lord in the Ambassador's cabal! 3) Jacq's Soiree -- Attend a formal event at the Ambassador's residence, hosted by her right hand and favorite slave, Jacq! -- Bet on the showpiece ponygirl races, or find yourself in the harness! -- Endure Jacq's enduring attention... And so much more!

[img[setup.ImagePath+'time.gif']] Time passes. Slowly. Are you a prisoner of the Ambassador's? It certainly feels that way, as the days bleed into each other. As Jacq had promised, you're brought food and occasionally allowed out with a silent suited escort for a walk, but that is the extent of your freedom. Most of your time is spent in the small room assigned to you, staring up at the ceiling, counting the tiles or wondering above just what you had gotten yourself into. The Ambassador and Jacq certainly are not making any effort to explain, they do not visit you either. And then you start forgetting things. It is hard to tell, exactly, but one day you wake to find you cannot remember the last. Or was it... the day before? Are you going mad? No. You're too keen for that, too observant-- and you catch it rather quickly. There, through the small window of the door to your room, you gaze out just after a meal to find something left behind in the hallway. A scrap of packaging, labeled *Mem-Burn.* Some sort of... drug, then? Perhaps given to you via your food? You haven't forgotten anything like your exploration of the Embassy, but the idea that you //could// be forgetting something is terrifying enough. You resolve to broach the question, to demand greater answers, the next opportunity you get. An opportunity that never comes. Instead, one day, your meal time is broken off suddenly by the arrival of two guards, one of them bearing a syringe. It had perhaps been two weeks, about the time necessary to arrive on Torei, but they don't care about that. Holding you down, forcibly, you're given a sedative... <<set $Strike to 0>> [[...and drift off into a deep slumber.->GoodTime2]]

//Lost to the world, the midnight of your unconscious mind stretches into eternity. You have no sense of yourself, nor even the perception that you're missing anything-- and you most certainly are. But from your perspective it is only a dreamless sleep, longer than any you've ever experienced. How long? Hours? Days? Weeks? You may never know.// <<set $Strike += 1>> <<if $Strike is 1>>@@.minbox;Credit Tracking Disabled, Gear lost, Pockets emptied, Arousal reset...@@ <<set $Inv to []>><<set $Pock to []>><<set $ShowCredits to false>><<run $Inv.push('Slave Collar')>><<set $Gear to 0>><<set $Arou to 0>> Something like a return to the waking begins as such things often do, with the barest hint of light. After so long out it nearly blinds you, pupils constricting in response, but the mere need for your body to react as such kickstarts it. You begin to stir.<<elseif $Strike is 2>>You breath deeply, groaning quietly as you shift your head. It hurts to breath, it hurts to move, but much of that was mere inactivity. Keep pushing.<<elseif $Strike is 3>>Again your eyes flicker, and again your eyes are overwhelmed by the light. So you divert to other senses, most immediately *touch.* You're... on your knees, arms pulled back. Restrained? Another sharp spike of adrenaline surges through you.<<elseif $Strike is 4>>You pull against the bindings you can only feel at the moment, and hear the strict *clink* of steel. Now your mind truly wakes, seeking the answers to questions it had only been half asking. Where are you? What was happening? To answer that, you would need to bear the light. You need to open your eyes!<<else>>It hurts, damn it all, but you persist. Your eyes open, the violent glare of your first glimpse of the waking world overriding most everything else. Yet as you endure details being to poke through the veil, shadows defining objects, everything coming into focus.<</if>> <<if $Strike lt 5>>[[Wake!->GoodTime2]]<<else>>[[You truly wake...->WakeStart]]<</if>>

<<set $Strike += 1>><<if $Strike is 1>>//Lost to the world, the midnight of your unconscious mind stretches into eternity. You have no sense of yourself, nor even the perception that you're missing anything-- and you most certainly are. But from your perspective it is only a dreamless sleep, longer than any you've ever experienced. How long? Hours? Days? Weeks? You may never know.// @@.minbox;Credit Tracking Disabled, Gear lost, Pockets emptied, Arousal reset...@@ <<set $Inv to []>><<set $Pock to []>><<set $ShowCredits to false>><<run $Inv.push('Slave Collar')>><<set $Gear to 0>><<set $Arou to 0>> Something like a return to the waking begins as such things often do, with the barest hint of light. After so long out it nearly blinds you, pupils constricting in response, but the mere need for your body to react as such kickstarts it. You begin to stir.<<elseif $Strike is 2>>You breath deeply, groaning quietly as you shift your head. Your jaw hurts, is there something wedged inside it? Keep pushing.<<elseif $Strike is 3>>Again your eyes flicker, and again your eyes are overwhelmed by the light. So you divert to other senses, most immediately *touch.* You're... seated, legs spread, arms crossed beneath your chest... and you have trouble moving them. Restrained? Another sharp spike of adrenaline surges through you.<<elseif $Strike is 4>>You pull against the bindings you can only feel at the moment, and hear the strict *clink* of steel alongside something else. A consistent humming, buzzing. Now your mind truly wakes, seeking the answers to questions it had only been half asking. Where are you? What was happening? To answer that, you would need to bear the light. You need to open your eyes!<<elseif $Strike is 5>>It hurts, damn it all, but you persist. Your eyes open, the violent glare of your first glimpse of the waking world overriding most everything else. Yet as you endure details being to poke through the veil, shadows defining objects, everything coming into focus.<<else>>IF FAIL<</if>> <<if $Strike lt 5>>[[Wake!->PatientTime2]]<<else>>[[You truly wake...->WakeStart]]<</if>>