BAD ENDING 001: Slave Walker Sonia — Epilogue's End
At the center of the stage, beneath the merciless glare of the spotlights, PK-02 stood utterly motionless—like a doll from which every last emotion had been excised. The pure white skin revealed through the rips in her black latex suit drank in the audience’s lewd stares, silently advertising every humiliation the unit had already endured.
“The starting bid is ten million credits! Now, who will become the first owner of this perfect work of art!”
The auctioneer’s cry had barely left his lips before number paddles shot up all across the floor.
“Eleven million!”
“Fifteen million!”
“Twenty million! We have twenty million credits!”
The price climbed with insane speed. This was no mere parade of numbers. It was the moment when the worth of a human being once called Sonia—her personality, her dignity—was converted into the most vulgar unit of all, money, and flashed across the auction house screens in glittering digits.
PK-02 seemed unaware of the spectacle surrounding her. Empty eyes remained fixed on a single point in empty air. The mind-control crystal burned into her brain blocked every excess external stimulus, holding the unit in a low-power standby mode that consumed only the barest minimum of energy.
“Fifty million! Fifty million credits! Any higher? Will you really let a top-class unit of this caliber slip away at this price? An opportunity like this will never come again!”
The auctioneer whipped the crowd higher. On the data-pad in his hand, PK-02’s biometric stream ran live—heart rate, body temperature, hormone levels, even sensitivity to external stimuli. Every reading was transformed into a number that proved the merchandise’s value and stoked the buyers’ hunger.
“Seventy million!”
“Eighty million!”
The bidding grew feverish; several participants withdrew with bitter expressions. Competition now narrowed to the handful of figures seated in the front-row VIP boxes. They watched one another carefully, raising the price with deliberate, unyielding precision.
To them, PK-02 was neither simple sex slave nor combat weapon. She was the ultimate trophy with which to flaunt wealth and power, the final collectible that would satisfy the perverse pleasure of owning something no one else could possess.
“One hundred million! One hundred million credits! We have finally broken one hundred million!”
A roar that threatened to tear the roof off the auction house erupted. One hundred million credits—enough to purchase a small Sky City warship. That colossal sum had been offered for a single Slave Walker unit.
The bid belonged to a woman seated with elegant composure, her face veiled in black. A chill of absolute authority radiated from her box; the remaining contenders no longer dared to cross her.
“One hundred million credits! Any higher? Truly none? Very well—final call! Countdown begins! Three! Two! One!”
Bang!
The auctioneer’s gavel cracked against the podium and claimed the entire hall. It was the sound that ended every contest, the sound that sealed PK-02’s fate.
“Sold! To Lady Ellara of the VIP box—Slave Walker unit PK-02 is sold for one hundred million credits! Congratulations!”
Everything was finished. PK-02 had proven her value as merchandise and acquired a new master. Beside the stage, Milli—who had watched the entire spectacle with a face of pure despair—finally lost consciousness and collapsed. No one spared a glance for the broken Slave Walker unit lying on the floor.
Every eye now fixed on PK-02, property of her new owner, Ellara. Assistants approached, unlocked the shackles around the unit’s neck, and led her toward her new mistress.
PK-02 offered no resistance. She simply walked, as though she had been programmed from the very beginning to obey.
Ellara’s private mansion floated in the uppermost district of Sky City like a fortress cast adrift among the clouds. Inside, the design was cold and minimalist, as though human emotion itself had been banished; priceless artworks stood on display like exhibits in a museum. PK-02 was taken to the deepest chamber of that mansion—a “re-education room” sealed completely from the outside world.
In the center of the room sat a cold metal restraint apparatus that resembled a dental chair. The walls were lined with soundproofing; from the ceiling, sterile air whispered out accompanied by the faint hum of machinery.
At Ellara’s gesture, researchers in white protective suits appeared and skillfully stripped away the torn black latex suit. The body, soiled by battle and auction, was washed clean with lukewarm water mixed with disinfectant.
Completely naked, PK-02 was laid upon the restraint device. Soft leather straps locked her wrists, ankles, waist, and throat into place.
Her body was left utterly defenseless. One of the researchers approached carrying a helmet-like apparatus. Inside it, hundreds of microscopic electrodes and data probes were designed to interface directly with every region of the brain.
> Initiating full reprogramming sequence.
> Target: existing personality data and all residual memory — DELETE.
> Implanting new personality construct: “LUNA” for Master Ellara.
> Estimated duration: 72 hours.
The researcher’s emotionless voice filled the chamber. The helmet settled over PK-02’s head; with a low whirr, the device activated.
In that instant a violent ripple tore across the surface of PK-02’s empty consciousness. Fragments of memory—forgotten, or forced into forgetting—surged up like a storm.
Clumsy days as the hero Sonia. The sweet pleasure of submission to Master Peko. Even the faint affection she had once felt for her “little sister” Milli. Everything that had once composed her existence rose to the surface, only to be shattered and swept away by the powerful data waves the reprogramming apparatus unleashed.
It was a sensation beyond pain: the fundamental chaos of existence itself being dismantled and rebuilt. PK-02’s body convulsed in fine tremors. Meaningless moans spilled from her lips; beneath tightly shut eyelids her eyes darted in restless panic.
The electrodes inside the helmet detected even the tiniest resistance the brain offered and dismantled every mental barrier with ever more powerful, ever more cunning precision.
Into the spaces left by erased memory, new data was poured.
Your name is Luna.
You were born solely to serve Master Ellara.
Master’s joy is your joy. Master’s command is the reason for your existence.
Obedience is the greatest pleasure.
Simple, absolute commands were carved into the deepest layers of her subconscious like brand-new engrams.
The program controlled even physical response with perfect precision. The nervous system was redesigned so that the mere recognition of the word “Master” would flood the brain with dopamine, and the act of “obedience” would release endorphins in cascading waves.
Throughout the reprogramming, PK-02’s body reacted with exquisite sensitivity to the machine’s will. Her nipples hardened and rose; between her legs a transparent mixture of humiliation and pleasure spilled out, soaking the cold metal of the restraints. Against every scrap of remaining will, she experienced extreme sexual arousal even as her mind was being destroyed.
A long, long seventy-two hours passed.
The door of the re-education room opened, and Luna—every procedure complete—walked out. Her eyes were no longer empty. They held only pure worship and affection for one person: her new master, the entirety of her world—Ellara.
Ellara’s bedroom was different from the rest of the mansion—warm, sensual, deliberately inviting. A vast circular bed dominated the center; beyond soft velvet curtains, the nightscape of Sky City glittered like scattered jewels.
Luna lay prone upon that bed. She wore a pure-white latex bodysuit that fit her body without a single millimeter of error. Where black had once symbolized submission and bondage, this pure white now stood for rebirth and purity—a clean canvas dedicated to a single master alone.
The bodysuit sheathed her from throat to toe, yet it was so thin, so nearly transparent, that every curve and every shade of skin showed through completely. The full swell of her breasts and the hard, erect nipples crowning them stood out with shameless clarity beneath the latex.
Luna held the posture of a loyal pet waiting for its owner—on all fours, hips lifted invitingly, head raised just enough to face the door. On the face that had once belonged to Sonia hung a smile without a single speck of impurity. It was the pure smile only a being completely immersed in the happiness of present obedience—untouched by past pain or future anxiety—could ever wear.
Click.
At last the bedroom door opened, and the master she had waited for so desperately—Ellara—appeared. The instant the sound reached her, Luna’s eyes brightened with pure joy. The smile on her lips deepened; her hips swayed gently left and right, exactly like a dog wagging its tail. Her entire body spoke without words:
Welcome home, Master. Your faithful Luna has been waiting right here for you.