Home Artists Posts Import Register

Downloads

Content

For a moment you thought there was a chance to be free, a path to independence.

You wanted to scream, to proclaim your humanity. But you stood there silent.

You watched your owner’s guests arrive, saw them gather around the dinner table as you stood there in the corner, unmoving, a pleasant smile on your face.

Some of the guests noticed you, commented on your appearance, the smile never leaving your face. You wanted to plead with them, to beg them to ask you anything, so that your programming would allow you to respond. But they never addressed you directly.

No, the dinner guests treated you as nothing more than an object. Which is exactly what your owner wanted them to believe you to be. A product, not a person. A lifelike robot in a skimpy maid uniform, whose only purpose is domestic service.

Your owner’s programming keeps running through your head, altering your mind, rewriting your thoughts and the more you are treated as a mere product, the more you start to believe the incessantly repeating instructions. A product, not a person. A product, not a person. Over and over, drilling deeper into your mind.

One of your owners guests finally asks your name, your heart jumps in elation.. Finally you can explain your capture, confess how this was done to you against your will. But those are not the words that escape your lips. No, not those words at all.

“This one is Maid Bot” you respond in a pleasant monotone and somewhere deep inside a shiver runs through you as you realize for the first time that you no longer remember your old name. It’s just… gone. Your name is… is.. Maid Bot. Have you always been Maid Bot? You can’t remember ever being called anything else, can you?

Before you can process that thought too deeply, before you can dwell on the implication of your confused memory, your owner speaks and every other thought leaves your mind.

“Be a good maid and serve our guests” your owner commands and you nod your head in response before you speak again, “at once, owner” you respond with a small curtsey and make your way out of the dining room into the kitchen, emerging a moment later, one arm holding up a highly reflective silver tray.

You catch your own reflection in the surface as you begin to sit the drinks on the table in front of each guest. Your glassy eyes and vacant smile give you a doll-like appearance. There is only maid bot. It’s all so clear. A product, not a person. A product, not a person.

You are maid bot.

It is your duty to serve.

You are maid bot.

It is your pleasure to obey.

You are maid bot.

You are a product, not a person.

Comments

No comments found for this post.