Author Topic: Female Punishment 2210  (Read 2309 times)

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Female Punishment 2210
« on: April 10, 2010, 08:36:01 PM »
(M+/f, bondage, sci-fi, nc, nosex)

“Gentlemen, we have failed. The past two centuries of computer technology, nanotech, and personal enhanced information technology have failed in one important area of human society to produce significant gains. That field, my friends, is in judicial reform.” He paused as the display screen behind him came to life, presenting to the audience a view superior to what even the most expensive ocular implant could provide.

“In our world we can, with the movement of an eye, do anything we like, from downloading great works of literature directly into our conscious minds to the reprogramming of nanites in our bloodstream to destroy a cancerous tumor. We can even choose to forgo eating and drinking simply by microwave recharging of the cells in our bodies. Yet we never ask what these advances, incomprehensible just a couple centuries ago, can do to thwart and punish the members of our society who use criminal behavior to enhance their own status at a cost to the rest of society. Today this changes.”

Backstage, Elsie stood nervously. She was to be the demo. She wasn’t a criminal, of course, but had worked on the team that developed the new protocols. She was merely to model the system and experience, however briefly, the jarring sensation of being cut off from the global net and of having her cybernetic implants, which all humans took from granted since birth, working against her. There was also, she knew, a certain amount of other extreme and unusual behavior to endure during the presentation. She hadn’t yet figured out for herself why she had volunteered for it, but her roommate hadn’t had much doubt. “You little perv! You’re going to get off on this, aren’t you?”

On cue, Elsie walked out on the stage to meet Gene, her boss. He barely glanced at her. “Here we are, gentlemen. This female, for all purposes that matter, is our criminal today. Tomorrow there will be hundreds more like her. Her crime? It is sufficiently heinous as to warrant extreme treatment. As of now, my associates backstage have commandeered all the bandwidth to and from her body. We shall now make modifications. Tell them your name, girl.”

“Elsie Arbogast,” she replied.

“Very well, and with some minor but easy and quick changes, tell them your name again.”

She opened her mouth, but no sound formed. Even though Elsie had been part of the trials already, she found it disconcerting to lose her voice. Not only did her vocal cords fail to function, but her tongue lost sufficient dexterity as to render her unable to even whisper.

“Complete non-communication, gentlemen. This criminal female will no longer bothering society with her pleas of innocence and other lies. And yet...” Suddenly Elsie felt a sharp pain in her arm. She yelped in pain, now able to make sounds once again.

“What of the criminal who conceals weapons? Can our methods help? Indeed. Witness what we can do to keep this criminal female from hiding anything again.”

This was the part Elsie was most nervous about, and she wondered what sort of sick, exhibitionistic impulse led her to agree to it, all in the name of progress of course. Within seconds she felt her skin itching and burning everywhere that her clothes touched her. She shifted uncomfortably, scratching, but knowing well enough what was to come. Finally she clutched at and tore off her clothing from her body. Everything went, leaving her stark naked on the state in the auditorium, watched by over five hundred other researchers and experts in her own field.

“By using any of a number of sensations, we can induce the miscreant to cast aside her clothing. Elsie here will find it utterly unbearable to cover herself in any way for as long as she is part of the judicial corrections system. She could complain, if only we cared to hear her words. Of course her red face tells us all we need to know. We could erase the color as well, but to what end?

“Now that our miscreant has been rendered more docile, she is easily handled and placed in a physical position less dangerous to the community.”

Another team member came out with some shackles. Gene placed the plasteel collar around her neck and locked her wrists to the cuffs that dangled at each side from the collar, allowing her only a few inches to move her hands. They were state-of-the-art, requiring a six-hundred megabit encryption code to dissolve the molecular bonding that sealed as soon as the locks clicked shut.

“I now direct your attention to the display once again. We have here a standard readout of all the accesses that a normal member of our society has to the global neurological network. In Elsie’s case, we can shut them down, one by one, as needed. Entertainment, gone. Finance, gone. Personal communication, gone. Bodily control, gone. The list goes on and on. We’ve created a package of privilege losses suitable for a criminal. Elsie has nearly been returned to the stone ages of the twenty-first century. The only significant accesses she has left at this time are sustenance and summoning of emergency medical aid, both appropriate for a criminal that has no money, no useful skills in her present condition, but has not been subject to capital punishment.

“Her transformation is complete. We do not need to even house the female, but rather can send her off, out onto the streets. At our end the corrections software can keep her body warm even in inclement weather. We can keep a record of all sensory inputs she receives for the duration of her sentence. Access is controlled by the justice department’s central root command. As a demo, we will now briefly watch as the subject is removed from the building and made to begin her lengthy sentence, currently listed at one hundred sixty eight years confinement.”

Elsie’s eyes grew wide. Not at the sentence. She knew that was just for show. But they were going to take her outside and make her walk around the city naked like she was. She tried to protest, but to no avail. As two men grabbed her arms she tried to resist, but was easily manhandled and hustled off the stage as the screen switched to a view through her eyes, dragged through the hallways.

“They don’t have the sound on, Elsie,” said Mike. “So we can tell you some more things. You’ve been set up. By several of us. We have our reasons, but we aren’t sharing them. You can think about your behavior lately. Maybe you’ll have a revelation, yes? Tomorrow over eight thousand prisoners just like you will be released just like you to serve real criminal sentences. You’ll be indistinguishable from them.”

They continued to the outer door. “Everyone that sees you will receive an internal flag noting that you are a condemned prisoner. No one can help you. No one will try. And if some nice young men want to show you a good time at night, well, that’s their business. You can always call an ambulance after the fact if you’re about to bleed out or something.”

“So long, bitch,” Sam added as they shoved her forward, out into the alley. Elsie nearly fell over but managed to stay upright. She ran back to the door, but they slammed it shut. There wasn’t even a knob on the outside. Her heart would have been racing had her medical system allowed it too. But the implants couldn’t control her fear. It had to be a joke. A very sick, joke. Surely the other team members were right around the corner. She tentatively walked to the corner. There were no team members. There were some homeless people.

It was impossible, and made no sense. She had no enemies. She had no angry ex-lovers and had rejected nobody recently. There was no comprehensible reason for her to be treated that way. It just came randomly, without cause or justice. Yet, there she stood, naked and utterly helpless. Surely someone would notice her predicament. Someone who could override justice department researchers with top clearances and credentials.

It was an uncertain hope to cling to as she gingerly walked her naked body to the next corner, still hoping to see the team members there having a good chuckle at her expense.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.