Gromet's PlazaMachine Stories

Joining the Collector's Army

by Lobo De la Sombra

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© Copyright 2010 - Lobo De la Sombra - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; kidnap; bodymod; mc; conditioning; robots; battle; nc; X

The battle, finally, was over.  The battered remnants of the army commanded by the man known only as The Collector, lay strewn across the field, their armored shells making the scene resemble a battlefield of knights.  Earth Security Force personnel roamed the field, examining the remains.

Colonel Rebecca Saint, ESF Commander, stood nearby, speaking into her vidlink as she unfastened her battle armor.

“It’s over,” she reported.  “The Collector’s army is destroyed.”

“Very good, Colonel,” Jacob Waller, head of the Security Council, replied.  “I take it The Collector wasn’t at the scene?”

“Negative,” Saint replied as she removed her armor.  She immediately wished she hadn’t.  By habit, she wore only a tank top under the armor, and now she could see Waller’s eyes fasten on her large breasts beneath the thin, taught fabric.  “As usual, he controlled this army remotely.”

“Too bad,” Waller commented.  “I know you have a personal stake in stopping this madman, Colonel.  Well, at least no innocents were killed.”

No innocents.  Saint glanced over the field with a frown.  “Unfortunately,” she said, “that’s not the case.”


“These weren’t robots,” Saint said tersely.  “This time, he sent humans in enhanced armor at us.”

“Humans?”  Waller’s eyes widened in shock.  “Why would anyone possibly sign up to die for him?”

Gazing at the blood pooled around the shattered armored forms, Saint’s voice grew icy.  “That,” she said, “is exactly what I mean to find out.”

Later, alone in her apartment, Saint sat at her computer, reviewing yet again the history of The Collector.  Dressed only in a robe, her hair still damp from her shower, she poured over reports of his activities since he first surfaced.

The Collector, it seemed, was bent on world conquest.  For the past ten years, he had hurled one army after another at the ESF.  Until now, these armies had been composed of robots.  Why the switch to human fighters?

Finished with the reports, Saint switched views to a map of the world.  The ESF maintained a concerted effort to locate The Collector’s base of operations.  To date, only a couple of smaller, satellite bases had been discovered.

Finally rising from her computer, Saint decided to call it a night.  Entering her bedroom, she slipped off her robe.  As she reached to hang it on the door, a while flash engulfed her mind, fading quickly into darkness.

Saint opened her eyes to find her self looking at……. herself.  A mirrored ceiling reflected her naked body as she lay atop a metal table.  She tried to rise, but her body refused to obey her, lying limp against the cold metal.

“Don’t worry, dear Colonel,” a voice said.  “It’s just a simple muscle relaxant, something to keep you from moving around.  Totally harmless, much like the stun wand we used to capture you.”

Unable to move even her head, Saint watched the mirror as the reflection of a man approached her table.  Then his head appeared in her direct vision, smiling down at her.

“My dear Colonel,” The Collector said softly, “do you have any idea what yesterday’s battle cost me?  It took months to gather and train that many fighters.  Not to mention the time and expense of building that many suits of armor.”

Saint tried to reply, but only slobbering moans escaped her lips.  “I know, I know,” The Collector replied, almost as if he understood.  “You were only doing your duty.  You always were a good soldier.  And you will continue to be one.”  Still smiling, he stepped away.

Continue to be?  How, Saint asked herself, could that be?  Almost as if in answer, she saw the reflections of robotic arms approaching her helpless body.  One grasped her left ankle, lifting it from the bed, as two more placed curved pieced of metal around her lower leg.  One arm then held the two pieces in place as the other produced a welding rod and began welding the pieces together.

“Don’t worry about burns,” came the chuckling voice of the Collector.  “This armor is fully heat resistant.”

Armor?  Saint could only watch as the arms completed their task.  Next, an intricate knee joint was secured in place, followed by another section of armor around her upper leg.  Finally, her foot was encased in armor, after which her leg was once more lowered to the table.  Her right leg received the same treatment.

Next, arms grasped her under each arm, lifting her from the bed.  Still unable to move, she dangled helplessly, her head lolling forward.  Gazing down through the valley between her breasts, she watched as another piece of armor was pressed to her waist.  She felt something inserted between her thighs, felt something else painfully invade her anus, then more welding, encasing her middle in the armor.

“Catheters,” explained the taunting voice.  “After all, we don’t want you making a mess of your nice new outfit, do we?”

Next, her breasts vanished from view as chest and back plates were welded into place.  The arms holding her let go, yet she remained standing, her knee and hip joint held in place by the armor.  Her arms and hands were quickly sealed into their own armored prisons, followed by shoulder fittings.  Finally, the arms moved away.

“What do you think?” asked The Collector, wheeling a tall mirror in front of her and holding up her head so she could look.  What she saw nearly took her breath away.

The armor encasing her somehow faithfully outlined every curve of her body.  From the neck down, she was metallic, mechanical, and utterly feminine.  The curve of her thighs, the swell of her breasts, every line and curve had been duplicated in exact detail.  Only her head remained uncovered, though she doubted this would last for long.

As she looked, Saint felt the strength returning to her limbs.  Experimentally, she flexed her arms and legs, realizing instantly that there was no way of escaping her metal prison.  Slowly, she raised her head, locking eyes with The Collector as she found her voice.

“Why?” she asked, her voice still weak.  “Robert, why?”

“Why?” The Collector replied mockingly.  “I could ask the same thing.  Why was I put in a mental hospital when I realized it was my destiny to rule?  Why did my family turn their backs on me, act like they were ashamed of me?  Why?  Can you answer those questions?”

Saint shook her head slowly.  “Nobody turned their backs on you, Robert.  Everyone tried to help you.”

“Help me?  With drugs?  With electroshock?  They tried to burn the dream out of my mind, but they only made it stronger.  I am destined to rule this world, and nobody will stop me.  Not even you, little sister.  But enough talk.  It’s time to finish dressing you for your new job.”

“Robert, no, I mmmmmmmm.”  As Saint tried to object, one of the arms inserted a tube into her mouth, while two others pinched her lips shut.  The first arm then applied a liquid to her lips.  When the pinching arms withdrew, Saint found that her lips were sealed shut around the tube.

Silenced, she could only watch as arms shaved her head, removing all hair, then encased her now bare head in armor, completing her imprisonment.  When The Collector once again held a mirror before her, she could see that the armor was an almost exact duplicate of her face.  Anyone who knew her would instantly recognize the image before them, though without realizing that the model was trapped inside.

“Since you were responsible for destroying my last army, you will become the nucleus, the leader of my new one.”  Saint tried to shout her denial, but only humming sounds came from her sealed lips.

“Oh yes.  You see, I’ve perfected a form of mind control.  The speakers through which you hear my voice will also transmit subliminal messages to your mind.  In no more than a month, you will have become entirely obedient to my every command, while retaining your own military knowledge.  You will be perfect to lead my new, stronger army.”

The Collector held up a control for her to see, then pressed a button.  Saint gasped as her armor began walking, carrying her to some unknown destination.

“Once you’re fully trained,” the voice in her ears explained, “you will, of course, be given control of the armor.  Until then, you will move when and as this box dictates.  The tube in your mouth will allow nutrient to be provided to you, while those further down will, shall we say, take care of any waste.  Now, shall we begin your training?”

Saint fought to resists the movement of her armor, but was unable to halt it’s progress.  She could only watch as she was moved into a small, dark room.  Hoses were attached to the three tubes protruding from her armor.  And then came the voices.


“What is it?” asked Colonel James Collins, moving to stand behind the tech.

“It looks like The Collector has fielded another army.  And look what’s apparently leading it.”

Colonel Collins stared.  There, at the head of a massive, metallic army, strode the unmistakable form of Rebecca Saint, former commander of the ESF.  Her metallic form shining in the sun, she deployed her forces.

As he hurried to marshal his own forces in defense, Collins wondered about what he’d seen on the monitor.  Was it a trick of the light, or had The Collector somehow given his metallic soldiers the ability to cry?


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