The Sound of Traffick (Part 1: Abducted) (Patreon)

Hey everyone!

Today's release is a brand new story in both audio and text format, taking place in a cyberpunk setting. This file took quite a few days of work, so I hope you'll enjoy it!

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The Sound of Traffick (Part 1: Abducted)

Written by ChaosDoll
Special thanks to Merlin Monroe and Drone 0091, for helping with editing and inspiration.

Disclaimer: The following audio presentation is a work of fiction; any resemblance to real- persons or situations is entirely coincidental. This audio presentation depicts scenes of violence, drug use, abduction, and slavery in a dystopian science fiction setting. The creator of this audio does not endorse or condone illegal or non-consensual behaviors. Once again, this is a work of fiction. I apologize if this disclaimer ruins your immersion in the story, but we live in an era where a fair portion of listeners have trouble telling fantasy from reality.  Accordingly, I felt a need to drive this point home. I hope you understand.

And now: The Sound of Traffick

It’s three o’clock in the morning and it feels like you’ve been dancing for days. The club was packed, you lost yourself to the pulsing lights and the ultra heavy beat, a sensory experience carefully designed to make you forget the passage of time. You’ve already forgotten how many drinks just appeared in your hand. How many shots of Glittering C-Beam did you tip back? How many flirtatious messages and connection requests came and went in the corner of your eye? You were having too much fun to care.

Tonight you dressed for attention and you made attention your bitch. There wasn’t an eye on the dancefloor that didn’t turn to look at you. It felt so good, being at the center of it all. You could have left with anyone at any point during the night, but you wanted to stay and dance your cares away. People noticed you tonight, probably even people you didn’t notice at all.

A smirk plays on your lips as you make a mental note to sort through all one hundred and seventy connection requests when you wake up tomorrow afternoon. Who knows? Maybe you snagged the attention of a keeper, or at least a hot little plaything to keep you amused for a while.

The cold night air hits you as you pass through the exit. You shiver slightly, a gust of wind forces you to pull your jacket tight as you make your way towards the taxi stand down the street. You feel a little wobbly as you walk, cursing to yourself as you nearly trip on the uneven pavement. It will feel so good to be back in your apartment; you’ll no doubt peel out of your clothes and crash straight into bed.

Your vision goes a little blurry, and you nearly trip over your own shoes this time. Perhaps you’ve had one too many drinks after all. Maybe that's why you suddenly feel so clumsy, your limbs heavy and slow to respond. Maybe that’s why you failed to notice the shadows emerging from the alleyway on your left. Maybe—

Just maybe that’s why you failed to notice the hand reaching for you from behind.

There is a sharp pain at the back of your neck as something unseen pierces your skin.

Everything goes black.

You jolt awake. 

You’re lying on your side. Your face is pressed against the floor. The back of your neck throbs in pain. Did you fall? Did you hit your head?  You blink your eyes several times. You can’t see where you are. Have you gone blind? Your head is spinning. You try to piece together your last clear memory. You fail. You blink a few more times. There is carpet or some kind of fabric underneath you. It’s rough against your cheek. You can almost make out the lines of a simple pattern on the fabric. You reach out your hand. It feels cheap and industrial. You seem to be surrounded by it.

You let out a sigh; at least you’re not blind. It’s just dark. Very dark. You’re surrounded by the deep hum of a car engine, you can feel the vibration. The sound of traffic passes by in the distance. You feel lost, your thoughts slow and unfocused, you haven’t quite processed your situation yet, still a little buzzed from your night at the club. You try to sit up and barely rise more than a few inches before the top of your head collides against something with a sharp thud.

You groan in pain. That really fucking hurt. You prop yourself up on one elbow as you reach above your head with your other hand. You feel something smooth, hard—maybe plastic? Polycarbonate? It’s hard to tell in the dark. You turn your head cautiously, squinting as you inspect the surface above you. A visual inspection reveals nothing you hadn’t already felt with your hand. The surface above you is smooth and featureless.

A sense of movement suddenly clicks it all into place for you. You now know exactly what this is.  You’re in a—you’ve been—you’re in a...in a...

The thought vanishes as quickly as it forms. It’s hard to focus and your thoughts seem slow and cumbersome. You just had it; it was in your head, and it just… vanished. You should be worried, concerned, but it’s so hard to focus. Trying to take the measure of your small enclosed surroundings, you stretch out as much as possible. Something is being done to you, you have to… just... think...

You feel your surroundings shift in a sharp turn. That’s it! You’re moving. You’re in a vehicle. Someone has taken you. You’re being abduc—Ouch. There is a sudden twinge of pain at the back of your neck, and you reach up out of reflex, rubbing at the soreness with your hand. Your fingers discover something cold and metallic. It’s small, round, flat, not much bigger than an old timey bottle cap.

Your eyes go wide in realization. It’s a data collar. You’ve avoided getting one your entire life. Sure, the small quick-install ports have many benefits, allowing access to virtual reality networks (in fact some of the hottest video games require a data collar to play,) but the privacy and security implications of devices that allow direct access to all mental and biological functions has always been questionable. All it takes is one determined hacker to turn a user into an involuntary asset through their brain stem.

Hell, that's exactly why the government and megacorps don’t allow their higher-ups to use this kind of tech. They just happily sell it to gullible consumers all too happy to trade autonomy for entertainment.

Fuck. Your thoughts wandered again. Now isn’t the time to be dwelling on your grievances with life in the 2070s. The world has been shit for a long, long time, and you need to figure out where you are right now and how you ended up with a brand new data collar.

You struggle to stay focused and begin feeling around in the dark, looking for any way out of your situation. You’re in a container, or maybe a trunk. Searching turns up nothing of use, no tools or loose objects. Nothing. Just smooth plastic and cheap carpet. No hinges, no handles or locking mechanisms.

You let out a groan, panic finally starting to worm it’s way into your thoughts. Where are you? Who did this? Your racing thoughts are soon interrupted by a loss of momentum and a sudden silencing of the sound of traffic.

Before you can catch your breath, your world is filled with light. The smooth lid above your head is drawn back, and you can see the silhouette of three people looming over you. 

“My, my. What have you brought us this time?” says the slender one in the middle in a feminine voice, her tone dripping with malevolence “A virgin collar? This will do nicely.”

One of the larger silhouettes to the side grunts in acknowledgement, and a moment later, they are lifting you out of the trunk, propping you up on your feet to stand before them. The woman in the middle leans in closer, allowing you to make out her strikingly beautiful features. Dark hair and almond eyes hover over an elaborate dragon tattoo coiling around her neck and down her plunging neckline. You stare at her ample cleavage. It’s hard to look away.

She smirks at you, and you barely notice as she reaches around and inserts a small device into the data collar at the back of your neck.

“You will follow me, and you will obey,” she says in a confident, commanding tone.

Before you can even process her words and form a reply, something else seems to take control of your body..

“Yes, Mistress,” you hear your own voice reply autonomously, your mouth moving of its own accord. You suddenly feel like a passenger in your own skin.

She leads you toward a nearby warehouse, built a hundred years ago and rundown. The ground is dry, and dust kicks up with every step. You’re definitely in the wasteland, quite a bit farther outside of the city than you’ve ever been before. Hell, you’ve barely even left your district of the city more than a few times. 

You are really in the shit now.

“I’ll take it from here, boys,” she says to the two large men as she leads you through a heavy door into the dust covered building. The men disappear from your view as your body follows along obediently.

You walk through a short dark hallway toward a larger section of the facility. As you emerge from the hallway, you are assaulted by a sudden and penetratingly bright light. When your eyes adjust to the new environment you see an entirely unexpected interior. People in white coats hurry about, entering and exiting dozens of small makeshift rooms formed by sheets of semi-transparent plastic dividing up the large space, each room is filled with a table of some sort, alongside unfamiliar machines and the glow of holographic displays..

You’ve heard about something like this before. You search your memory, as much as is possible with everything interfering with your thoughts. It seems so familiar... Something on the news feeds, maybe? Something like a hospital… but not… Something illegal, something… bad.

Your eyes scan the room frantically, searching for any means of escape while the woman leads you deeper into the facility.

A sudden cry to your right draws your attention to a girl strapped down to a table as reflective chrome implants are drilled into place around each empty black hole where her organic eyes used to be. A robotic arm attached to a nearby machine descends towards the table, a glowing red optical implant lowering itself into one of the vacant sockets as its dangling circuitry automatically connects itself. Her screams send a shiver down your spine before your feet can carry you away from the view, but the woman leading through the facility you merely chuckles.

The next room is filled with pink light emanating from a headset placed over a young man’s head. A vapid giggle escapes his puffy augmented lips as a doctor in a white lab coat draws lines along his chest, planning out implants altogether different from that in the previous room.

You try to speak. To ask questions. To scream. Your voice refuses to cooperate, your mouth not even opening. The woman seems to notice your reaction without even looking at you, though you’re not sure how. She turns to face you and you stop, standing there motionless and staring at her. You want to growl in anger, to reach out and smack her, to demand your freedom. Instead you stand there, entirely still and unmoving.

“How wonderful! You have spirit. Your kind are always so fun to reshape,” she says, flashing you a sadistic grin before continuing through the facility. You follow her silently.

Your eyes are drawn to your left where a non-binary person’s head is being lasered into permanent smoothness and hairlessness. Another laser tattoos the length of their body with realistic leopard spots, having already covered most of the skin below the waist. In the brief moment it takes for you to walk by, you manage to notice that a cybernetic tail has been surgically attached to the base of their spine. They notice you back and let out an alluring purr, reminding you of your cat and almost compelling you to smile in response. You miss your cat. Fuck, you really need to get home! Your roommate always forgets to feed your cat. For the briefest moment you completely forget your situation, the mundane thought bringing comfort before reality comes rushing back.

You turn a corner, continuing to follow the woman. A man stands in the middle of the next room as several doctors inject him with a series of brightly colored substances. His muscular and masculine physique is covered entirely in latex. The material seems to shimmer like inky black liquid over his entire body with no visible holes or openings. You can’t help but notice the massive rubber-coated cock dangling between his legs, nearly reaching his knee, even in its flaccid state.

“If you haven’t figured it out by now, this facility is designed to take poor and unfortunate souls like yourself and turn them into something more... pleasurable... for our very discerning clientele. The city has so many lonely elites looking for highly specialized comforts. Consider yourself lucky: you look like someone that wanted to be noticed. Well, someone very rich and very powerful certainly did take notice of you.” She chuckles.

The woman is just about to lead you into an empty room when a doctor approaches to whisper something into the woman’s ear.

“Damn it!” she swears, then looks over at you. “It appears I am needed elsewhere for the moment, so stay right here. I am transferring control of your collar to Doctor Cold. He will be along shortly to begin your... repurposing. Until then, you will remain here.”

She motions to the room opposite the one into which she was about to lead you. “Look, another show is about to start. Just stand there and enjoy it. Goodbye, whoever you were.” Another sadistic smirk comes your way before she disappears around the corner and out of view.

You want to move. You want to run. You want to cry and scream. None of those things happen. Whatever the sadistic woman attached to that data collar has robbed you of any ability to disobey, or even to act autonomously. Resignedly, your eyes are locked on the room across from you to watch as an athletic looking blonde-haired girl is forcefully restrained by several doctors and a needle injects her arm with a silvery liquid.

Her thrashing stops almost immediately, giving way to a euphoric expression across her face while one of the doctors runs a gloved hand down her bare thigh. The girl moans loudly in pleasure. A laser tool rises from the table and begins tattooing the girl's face with permanent makeup: black lipstick, heavy eyeliner, a spiderweb pattern on each eyelid. You notice the girl’s healthy tan start to fade as her skin becomes increasingly pale. As her muscle definition seems to disappear before your very eyes, you wonder if all this could possibly be an effect of the drug they gave her. Meanwhile, one of the doctors begins coating her hair with a thick black dye. It’s only a matter of moments before the sunny blonde has been completely replaced by a soft, pasty, goth girl.

You look away and shudder in fear… at least you think you do. A floating observer in your own body, you still feel disconnected from it, powerless to stop your own inevitable—hat did the woman call it?—“repurposing”.

Your thoughts drift as your body forces you to watch the transformation happening in the room opposite you. A moment later, a tall man rounds the corner and looks at you with an unnerving smile. “Hello. I’m Doctor Cold. I believe you are a special order,” he says matter of factly, the smile never leaving his face as he guides you into the vacant room that was your original destination.

He pats an inclined metal table in the center of the room. “Strip out of your clothing, then hop on. It’s time to get started.”

Your body obeys without hesitation, you hear the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor and the cold air hits your skin. You take a step forward, turn and lay back against the inclined metal table.

“Now, what shall we make of you?” the doctor asks as he picks up a small data pad from a small tray beside the table. “Oh, how interesting…”

To be continued…

How would you like the story to end? Look for a new patron poll in the next few days where you can vote on several ideas for the final transformation!