Vee 2.0 - Ch. 03: WannaCry

It was hard to know, because either way, it didn't matter. Her conscious thoughts were simple and easy and grateful. She was, simply put, Trevor's maid. That made sense to her. Her duty was to clean and take care of his needs, and no resistance to those desires was able to last in her head. Much as she swept away dust and dirt and grime in Trevor's apartment, Vee wiped away any rebellious thoughts Veronica might have.

She was just finishing gathering Trevor's laundry when she heard the front door open.

There was protocol to being a maid, Veronica knew. She hadn't known any of it when she woke up this morning, but right now it was like she'd trained her whole life for this. She made her way to the living room, briskly but not overeager. She faced the door, folded her hands in front of her, and looked down at the floor. Presenting herself for the master of the house.

Master. There it was. That was the word she couldn't make herself think before.

She heard Trevor shut the door behind him as he entered. Two sets of footsteps, she noticed. He wasn't alone. A female voice laughed, and said in a delighted half-whisper "Holy shit, look at her!"

Drunk, based on her voice, or at least part of the way there. Trevor's voice didn't sound quite as inebriated, but there was a hint of slur to his words. "Hey there, Veronica. How're the maid duties going?"

Now that she'd been addressed directly, Veronica felt secure to lift her gaze and meet Trevor's. She hadn't seen him since the last time they were in bed together. Her body remembered, and provided her with a spike of angry adrenaline and fearful cortisol. Her stomach heaved and her skin crawled, but those were only her unconscious reactions. The parts of her that she couldn't control.

So while her nervous system tried to yank her into action - fight! flee! something! - Veronica smiled softly and curtsied to Trevor.

"I'm nearly finished, Sir," she said, her voice soft and oh so respectful. Like a good maid should be. "Would you like me to continue cleaning, or is there anything else you require?"

"I noticed the kitchen's nice and clean. I made sure to let it get nice and filthy the last couple of weeks so you'd have plenty to do. Now that you've got that taken care of, why don't you go get Brittany and I some drinks?"

Her head dipped in a nod and Veronica softly padded into the kitchen.

She thought back to the last time she'd seen Trevor, when she'd cooked for him. This felt much the same - like she was on a sort of autopilot, where here hands knew just where to go. She gathered glasses, uncorked wine, poured it out just so. But the last time, she was cooking out of a strange form of love, as the Housewife module pulled her brain that way. Now she felt a similar degree of devotion to her task, but this came from a different place. More submissive and small and desperate to please her employer.

She entered the small living room with two wine glasses in hand. Trevor and the girl - Brittany, apparently - were on the couch together, limbs already a bit entangled. Brittany giggled excitedly as Veronica approached, as Trevor ran his hands over her. Veronica bent at the waist to set the glasses down on the coffee table in front of the canoodling couple.

"This is fucking hot," Brittany cooed. Veronica didn't look directly at her - that felt impolite and above her station. She could feel the drunk girl's eye sliding up and down her body. "You guys do this kind of scene a lot?"

"Oh, sure," Trevor lied. "Veronica loves being my cute little maid when I have a date. Don't you, Veronica?"

"Of course, Sir," Veronica said, demure and soft, as though this was one of a thousand times this had happened. It wasn't exactly a lie. She did love this, right now. The programming rippling through her brain didn't offer any alternative ways to feel.

As Brittany sipped her wine, Trevor stood. "I'll be right back. Veronica, come with me."

He strode down the hall to the bedroom, and Veronica followed. He turned the laptop screen away from her, tapped a few keys, then smiled.

"I'm glad you came," he said. His voice was strange, thick with conflicting emotions and blurred by intoxication. His smile, though, was simple and predatory. "You just wait in here until we need you. OK?"

"Yes Sir," Veronica said, hands folded and eyes down like the good maid she was. Trevor paused there a moment, seeming to assess her. He must have been satisfied, because he left the room without another word, shutting the door behind him.

Veronica waited.

She could hear Trevor and Brittany talking in the other room. Intermittently, they seemed to chat and laugh, with periods of quiet in between. In those periods, Veronica could hear other noises. Intimate noises.

The bedroom was not fully cleaned, but that didn't bother her now as it had earlier. She'd done her duties in cleaning, and now Trevor simply wanted her to wait. So she would. She'd do what Trevor wanted, after all. He was her... employer? That wasn't exactly it. He was in charge, though. In command. He was...

Her master, she thought with a thin bright bolt of clarity. The word made her shiver once, hard.

It was true, wasn't it? He'd told her to come here and she had. He'd made her into his maid and she'd obeyed. He told her to wait and she was. She knew whatever else he asked her to do, she'd do. She could feel the truth of that like it was firm and solid. Something cold and metallic and hard, locked onto her brain. A clamp, a collar, a cage. Iron and steel, binding her and giving her shape.

Master, she thought again, loving the icy goosebumps the word gave her. The way it made her feel locked in place. Experimentally, Veronica got onto her knees.

That felt incredible. Felt right. She belonged on her knees. She was a... a servant. A slave. Yes. Another word that was cold and powerful, another word that twisted through her like a slow-motion bolt of satisfying electricity. Slave. A slave for her master.

"Yes, Master," Veronica breathed aloud, there on her knees. Kneeling on Trevor's floor. Her Master's floor. The words sounded so good. Tasted good leaving her mouth. The sound of them hung in the quiet room, buzzing in the air, echoing silently and reverberating around her. Her skin prickled. She was so warm. Her heart was racing a bit.

She plucked at her uniform with her fingertips, thoughtfully. She didn't need this now, did she? Minutes ago it made all the sense in the world to wear this, but now... she wasn't a maid. She was a slave. Slaves didn't have uniforms, did they? Not like this, at least. Without getting up from her knees, Veronica began awkwardly stripping off the uniform, casting it aside piece by piece.

Every bit of her that she uncovered felt more right. Skin exposed to the air. Body free and available. This was how a slave should be presented, she thought. She made her position more correct - kneeling on Master's floor, thighs apart and head down. Hands on her knees, palms turned upward.

Her thoughts felt thinner now, somehow. Flatter. There was less color and vibrancy to the sensations and ideas in her mind. She was a slave, and her Master told her to wait here, so she would, because she was a slave. That was it. That sort of loop wove itself up and down her consciousness, and nothing else happened in her mind.

Time passed.

Eventually, the bedroom door opened. Master half-stumbled in, entwined with the woman he'd brought home. They were only partly dressed, kissing each other sloppily and eagerly. The woman fell backwards onto the bed, letting out a laughing whoop as she did.

Veronica did not move.

Master stood there, laughing quietly to himself, running his hand through his hair as he caught his breath. He looked between the two women there - one half-naked and laughing on his bed, the other fully nude and kneeling blankly. He stepped towards Veronica, darkly smiling.

"Do you know why you're here?"

His expression was amused, eyes sparkling. But his tone was soft and still and deadly serious. Veronica spoke without thought.

"To serve you, Master."

How good it felt to speak those words. How perfect they sounded. Master's date cooed with drunken excitement from the bed. Veronica dared to glance up and saw her shimmying awkwardly, peeling her pants off. Master's voice came to her, powerful and low.

"I want to watch you eat Brittany out."

"Yes, Master."

So easy. Master wanted something, and his slave could provide it. Veronica's brain felt unbelievably simple. There was no attention given to doubt, or desire, or anything more complex than simply fulfilling directives. Master spoke and she obeyed. Brittany opened her legs, wriggling her hips with excitement.

"You guys are fucking kinky," she cooed with a giggle. "She gets really into the role or whatever, huh?"

Trevor smiled as Veronica moved into position, still on her knees, sliding herself between Brittany's spread legs. "Yeah," he said, "she's a hell of an actress."

Veronica nestled her face between the girl's legs. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue, then dragged one long, fluid lick all the way up and across Brittany's waiting lips. Brittany tensed and shivered with pleasure, letting out a heavy, pleased groan. "Ohfuck, that's nice," she cooed. "Don't stop."

Veronica of course didn't stop. Not so much because Brittany said so, though. Master gave the commands here. What Veronica wanted didn't matter, but honestly, what Brittany wanted didn't matter much either. Master held the reins. Master gave the orders.

Happily, what Master wanted and what Brittany wanted aligned at the moment, so Veronica continued her work. She gave three more long, slow, heavy licks like that, as though building a foundation. Then she began to slow herself, work more in fine details. She used the tip of her tongue to probe inwards, deeper and more exploratory. She let her breath caress Brittany's many folds, slowly and softly. She made her squirm and writhe with soft suckles of her clit, only a second or two at a time.

Veronica had only experimented with other girls a few times. A couple of girls in college, generally while drunk or having been egged on at a party. Once, for a couple of months after graduation, she dated a fellow actress. It never really felt right. The experimentation was exciting and fun but it was never really her.

That meant that her expert use of her mouth right now wasn't the result of practice, but of programming. Even with her deeply limited and simplified mind, Veronica was able to move in ways that left Brittany gasping with pleasure in seconds. She wasn't just a slave, she was slowly realizing. She was a sex slave. Made for pleasure. Wired and tuned to perform for her Master's enjoyment. And Master was watching her now, overseeing her efforts.

That thought - Master looking at her, appraising her, watching and controlling her - added a level of excitement and heat to Veronica's efforts. She worked her tongue faster, caressing Brittany's clit with rapid, insistent strokes. The reaction didn't take long. She grabbed the sheets and balled her fists, body trembling in waves as the orgasm took her. Veronica didn't slow down or relent at all, and the other girl screamed as she pressed herself closer. She rode Veronica's face to a second orgasm rapidly after the first, at which point Master told her to stop.

Veronica barely was able to pull away from the breathless, shaking girl before Master pressed himself in front of her. He'd undressed the rest of the way and his cock throbbed heavily before her. "Suck," he grunted, voice already thick with desire.

Master's cock was familiar, of course. Veronica had licked and sucked and stroked it plenty of times. But that was before. That wasn't Master, exactly. She couldn't think enough right now to understand the difference, but this was more. This was powerful. She wasn't a girl having sex with her boyfriend, she was a slave worshipping her Master. Fulfilling her purpose.

Master came quickly. Veronica barely had time to fully take him in her mouth before his balls began to twitch. He pulled himself out forcefully, and Veronica didn't have time to move at all before he gave himself two long, heavy strokes. And with that, he erupted across her face. A blast of warm seed spattered over her forehead and cheek, then another. A third. She quaked with pleasure and fulfillment as he unloaded on her again and again. A benediction that solidified her success in being pleasing, in serving him like a good slave.

Master took a moment to catch his breath, climbing into bed with Brittany, who was already warming up for more. She squeezed herself next to him, kissing, grinding her body to his. Veronica remained on her knees. Waiting to be commanded. She could feel Master's cum starting to dry on her face. If he wanted her to remove it, he'd say so. For the moment, he didn't. He kissed his way down Brittany's neck, onto her chest, before eventually turning his attention back to the girl kneeling at the side of his bed.

"You just stay there," he ordered, "and watch."

He leaned over, reaching for his laptop. Tapped a few buttons. Then he shoved it away and gave his attention fully over to Brittany.

Veronica did as she was told, and watched. Master was beginning to get hard again already - always something she'd appreciated about him. He had incredible stamina. Brittany was lucky, getting to appreciate him like this. That thought gave her a pang of jealousy, watching this other girl getting what she had always enjoyed so much.

The jealousy felt good, in a strange, tangled way.

Veronica watched more closely. Her mind felt like it was moving a little faster now, though a different sort of haze seemed to be settling over it. One that made her feel warm and floaty and fixated on the two writhing bodies in front of her. Trevor put a hand on Brittany's thigh as he kissed her, easing her legs apart, and then he slid forward and entered her smoothly. Brittany moaned loudly through the kiss and it made Veronica's stomach twist. Fuck. Fuck, she knew how good that felt. Knew how genuine that moan of pleasure was.

Why couldn't it be her?

Though, strangely... another part of her loved that it wasn't her. She didn't get to be fucked, she just had to watch. And that made her pulse with heat.

"Tell her how good it feels," Trevor growled into Brittany's ear. Brittany giggled wickedly. Her eyes wide with lust, she looked over at Veronica. Hair clung to her face from the sweat she'd built up there. She spoke in a shaking voice as Trevor worked his way in and out, slow and deep and steady.

"Ohhh. It feels... mmm. Soooo fucking good. He's got suuuch - ah! - such a nice cock. Are you jealous?"

Veronica mewled weakly. She felt dizzy. Her hand was between her legs, she realized, and she was humping at it limply. Not enough to actually pleasure herself. Just a soft, desperate, futile tease.

"You are, huh? Mmmm I love it. Fuck you two are fun. You like watching me - ahhh! Right there! - watching me fuck your man? You pathetic little slut?"

Veronica nodded. A half-feral bob of her head, desperate. Is that what was happening? Her man? She didn't know. Everything was fucking blurring. Her mouth was open, she was staring. Overheated. Trevor was thrusting faster now.

"F-fuck. Ohh that's good. Fuck me, baby, faster. Right there! Ohhh god. Y-you gonna watch me cum? Little bitch, watch this. Watch how he - nghhhfuck - makes me cum. So good. Ohh that's s-so - yes - fuck oh fuck!"

Brittany bucked like an animal, thrashing, as Trevor drilled into her. From the way his grunts became thick and deep, and the way his body pulsed and tensed and then collapsed, Veronica was sure he came, too.

And all the while she knelt there and watched and ground her hips without satisfaction. Simmering in this bizarre new feeling of inferiority and need and something akin to pride. It was too confusing to get her arms around. It was horrible and humiliating and wonderful.

Trevor sat up before long. He grinned at Veronica, studying the dazed blush on her cheeks.

"We're not done yet," he said. He reached for the computer.

***

It was about five in the morning when Veronica stirred. She was splayed across the foot of the bed, naked, aching. Her whole body felt tired and sore. Some of the aches were pleasant, but many of them decidedly were not.

Trevor and Brittany slept up above her, tangled together, looking as sweaty and exhausted and disheveled as she felt. She slowly extricated herself, trying to remember what had happened. Her very brain ached, and the effort of pulling out memories was slow and painful. She had a ragged, confused feeling of betrayal and anger that didn't slot in anywhere in particular - it just bounced roughly around in her mind, clanging and scraping and making her want to run from here.

The dim glow of Trevor's idling laptop stopped her.

She tapped the screen, bringing it to life. Vee's smiling fucking face blinked into existence.

"Hi there!" a text box said. "I've been idle for three hours. Are you still there?"

She didn't dare say yes to that. Especially when she saw the list of options beneath it. 'Installed mods', it read.

Homemaker Vee / Maid Vee / Slavegirl Vee / Cuckquean Vee / Stepford Vee / Party Girl Vee / Bimbo Vee / Hurts So Good Vee / Puppyplay Vee / Dominatrix Vee / Foot Fetish Vee / Robo-Vee / Schoolgirl Vee

The list continued past the bottom of the screen.

Veronica knew there were unofficial mods out there, but... jesus. This was just depraved sexual stuff. A kink menu. And it was bad enough thinking people downloaded these to turn their digital assistant into some kind of porn program. But Trevor, he'd gotten them all knowing that...

Flashes of memory hit her mind. A leash. Spankings. Writhing and giggling as Trevor fucked her. She squeezed her eyes closed and fought the urge to vomit.

Veronica slapped the laptop closed and dashed out of the room, grabbing her clothes desperately and barely managing to half-dress before she was out in the hall.

***

She was halfway home before she realized she had dozens of notifications on her phone.

Mostly messages on her neglected insta account, which she'd stopped updating as Vee became bigger. Random photos getting flooded with comments from accounts she didn't recognize.

prime Vee in the wild! holy fucking shit lol

Default skin. Boring.

Imagine waking up every day knowing your whole life is just a template file

IRL NPC LMFAO

Hundreds of these. Trolls that she barely understood. Sitting on the early morning subway, she scrolled in horror, realizing the worst corners of the internet had found her.

lmao I can't believe this is a real girl. Feels illegal somehow. Gonna go jerk it to my modded Vee while I scroll these pics

let's spam her replies and see if we can DDoS her brain lolllll

She'd always wanted fame. Always worked towards it. And she knew, abstractly, there was a dark side to that. But she'd never really grappled with the possibility of it before now.

remember that article a while ago that said Vee had like, unique processing tech? hmmmmmmm

vee how attached are you to ur current thought processes? asking for a friend

Look y'all I'm just saying - a lot of us theorized there was a distinct processing center for the app, right? And HDS did have those neural interface patents a few years ago. Just sayinggg...

She couldn't put the phone down. It buzzed faster than she could read. Emails were coming in to her personal account now, too. Texts. They'd found her for real. Fully.

if they're really using her brain to run the app, you know what that means, right?