[The Victim] [Author: Fool sPbge]

【The Sacrifice】—Science Fiction, Tragedy, Transformation

Author: foolspbge
Translator: erereerr/vbvbvvbb
Published: 2015/4/5 on: sexinsex.net

Helena stood ramrod straight in the light gray cell, her haughty expression revealing no trace of inner anxiety.

She did not tremble with fear; her posture was upright, her expression exceptionally resolute. She was tall, beautiful, and well-proportioned; her eyes were clear and firm, revealing a decisive personality; every gesture exuded aristocratic pride and self-respect.

Two guards stood side-by-side behind Helena, urging her to change. The so-called "clothing" was specially made for her by the Earthlings—a white latex dress with a metallic sheen. The dress fit her "perfectly," the sleeveless gown revealing her shoulders; the tight-fitting long skirt extended from her neck to her slender waist, cascading down to her ankles. The semi-transparent long dress also revealed other aspects of her beauty; the slits in the dress accentuated her slender and shapely legs as she moved, but Helena disliked the design entirely.

This dress, provided by the Earth Federation, was the only item Helena was allowed to bring into the country, so she stood uncomfortably barefoot on the cold floor. A guard in the corner of the room casually slung a rifle capable of erasing consciousness across his shoulder. He looked like he had been suffering from long-term drug use, his face unnaturally swollen and red. The other guard wasn't much better; his symptoms resembled those of a drug addict—thin and pale. She waited awkwardly for a full hour with these two in her company.

Finally, the door to Helena's left slid open with the sound of gas escaping, and a man walked in—a typical Earth resident: splattered perfume, a pig-like appearance, unkempt clothing, and bloodshot eyes. He wore an open shirt with tight pants, and his hair was thin and greasy.

"Are you Helena Harmonia Hershaw Themo?" the rude Earthling asked knowingly. "The daughter of Pushilin Hershaw Themo, the chairwoman of the Andromeda Galaxy?" He feigned ignorance of the obvious answer.

"Who else could I be, barbarian?" Helena thought disdainfully. Despite acknowledging her identity, a laser scorched her arm, so quickly that Helena felt no pain.

The man nodded, confirming the DNA matched the database.

"Come with me," he said to Helena, casually tossing a message to the guards, "You're done here. Report to cell number 3."

A glint of intelligence flashed in the guards' eyes, the first time Helena had ever seen it. Though she didn't care what they thought, their unhealthy wit made Helena uncomfortable.

"Follow me," the slightly higher-ranking but equally repulsive Earth officer shouted after they left. The startled cry nearly triggered Helena's own fuse, but her excellent training prevented the microscopic chemical reactions activating within her, leaving no trace. It wasn't time yet; she didn't need to waste her only weapon on a useless man.

The Earth man seemed indifferent to his own safety. He arrogantly confident Helena would obediently stay behind him. In truth, she could have attacked him at any moment, and the impulse was indeed tempting. But she restrained herself once more, knowing that even if she succeeded, she would have nowhere to escape, and her treatment after being captured would be far worse.

So far, she hadn't strayed from her plan: if she was lucky, she might meet the President, the ruler of the Earth Federation, and then she would retaliate. If this plan failed, she would trigger another fuse within her.

She stopped daydreaming, because in either case, Helena was destined to die.

*** *** *** *** The corridor material, like the evening gown, was a shimmering white latex. It was silent, so they moved without a sound. There was no visible light source; light was everywhere. Helena felt suffocated in this whiteness; her exposed head and arms seemed to float in mid-air.

She glanced out of the only remaining black window; the boundless darkness suggested she was probably not in the Andromeda Galaxy or its moons, even though the gravity was the same as Andromeda's. Even if gravity was ridiculously expensive on the space station, those Earthlings could afford it. Helena's gaze was fixed on the Earthling's vest; she was terrified, but she still didn't show it.

Soon, they reached the end of the corridor—an elevator. The elevator doors opened silently, without pausing for a moment. A moment later, they were en route.

"Focus, Helena!" the young woman silently encouraged herself. "Control yourself. You've been specially trained. You've always known this would happen... Control yourself, just wait for the right moment to strike back. Don't overthink, don't hesitate, just... let it happen."

Helena could feel them; her fuse was hidden deep within her mind. They were ready.

But was she ready?

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Helena snapped out of her reverie.

"Go outside and wait," the Earthling told Helena. "Someone will come to pick you up. You can... relax for a while." He smiled mockingly and disappeared behind the elevator doors. She tried to open it again but couldn't. Helena exhaled a tense breath, suppressing the tears welling in her eyes, and began to observe her new surroundings.

*** *** *** *** It was a large oval room. The ceiling and walls were a crayon-like color—coral pink; the carpet on the floor was also pink, but a brighter shade. Compared to the barefoot corridors and the latex floors in the elevator, the carpet was far more comfortable; the room also featured many sofas in different colors, their ergonomic design allowing them to transform into comfortable lying or sitting positions with a little pressure; a sliding door led to the bathroom; and the wardrobe held an unexpected variety of clothing.

All the clothes were custom-made to fit Helena's elegant figure. Some of the clothes looked quite good—really good—but Helena hesitated for a long time before deciding whether to wear them.

"If they didn't let me choose, they wouldn't have prepared so many clothes," Helena thought, a reason that was convincing enough for her. She loathed the dress she was wearing, loathed the fact that it was her only possession, but loathed most of all its reflective and semi-transparent texture—she was almost completely exposed inside it. But should she succumb to yet another humiliation from Earthlings?

Despite some reluctance, she didn't choose to change.

A large window in the room faced a planet in the Andromeda constellation, Perseus. Across that vast distance, Helena seemed to see her home.

"Mother," she said, gazing at her beloved homeland, though they couldn't hear her, "I promise to do everything in my power." *** *** *** *** Helena's home star system, the Andromeda Galaxy, was inhabited by humans over a thousand years ago during the era of colonial expansion.

Dozens of planets around the Heart of Perseverance became new homes for humanity, where they not only improved their human genes but also developed sophisticated social systems. Andromeda became Plato's world, and the planet closest to the Heart of Perseverance was named after Plato. Helena's home was on the seventh planet in the Andromeda Galaxy, a place covered in oceans, with beautiful scenery and a pleasant climate.

In the world of Andromeda, there was no hunger, no poverty, no war.

However, fifty years ago, the Earth Federation from their ancestral planet Earth began its invasion. Since then, they have occupied Plato, thus controlling the Andromeda Galaxy. Those despicable Earth pirates used brainwaves and interstellar missiles to coerce the entire Andromeda Galaxy.

The inhabitants of Plato, having been terraformed by long-term colonization, had become as rude and barbaric as the pirates.

They forced other planets to contribute young men and women, and thanks to genetic modification technology, they possessed insatiable lust.

On the occasion of celebrating their fiftieth colony anniversary, the Earthlings "specially" requested a "special" gift from the Andromeda Galaxy—Helena, the most beautiful daughter of the galactic chairwoman.

Afterwards, she was isolated from her surroundings, making "special" preparations.

*** *** *** *** The elevator doors opened, and a beautiful young woman skipped joyfully into the room. She had fair skin, bright eyes, and golden hair; like Helena, she came from Andromeda. Two narrow strips of red fabric wrapped from the back of her neck to her chest—barely covering her ample breasts. Another piece of fabric hung at her waist, slightly concealing her crotch while completely exposing her buttocks.

Seeing Helena staring at her, the girl curtsied gracefully and smiled, "Welcome, my mistress. My name is Leisie, and I will be at your service." "I...I don't need your service," Helena said, shocked. "Please leave." The girl shook her head in annoyance. "I'm sorry, mistress, but I can't leave. I was sent by my master to take care of your comfort and help you prepare for your enslavement." Beside her blinking eyes, close to her hairline, Helena saw small metallic protrusions, no more than a millimeter in diameter, and a small glowing dot in the center of her forehead. She knew those were interfaces to Leisie's brain. Helena shuddered—these tiny devices, she knew, were embedded deep within Leisie's brain.

They had been implanted by Earthlings, turning Helena's kin into their possessions.

"Please get up," Helena said, walking to the girl to help her up. Her skin was silky smooth and well-maintained. Even against the backdrop of those shameful marks of slavery, Lechia still possessed an incredible beauty. A thought flashed through Helena's mind—it was precisely those devices that made her appear more beautiful—they were the contrast, highlighting her original beauty.

"Poor girl," Helena sighed, leading the girl to sit on the sofa. She handled Lechia with the care of a porcelain doll.

Goddess of Ethics, what kind of torment had this poor girl endured… Another wave of sorrow washed over her: how long had this girl been tortured by Earthlings?

"Thank you, Mistress," Lechia said. She was helped to sit up, but as Helena stood up, the girl knelt on the floor again, not of her own volition, but as a conditioned reflex, unable to sit with someone standing beside her.

Helena helped her up again and sat down next to Lexi, taking her hand and asking, "What did they do to you?" Her voice was choked with emotion. "How long have you been locked up here, poor girl?" "I've been a slave for six glorious years, Mistress."

Helena held her hand tightly like a sister. "You don't have to call me that. You're not a slave." Lexi slowly lowered her head and politely shook it. "I am a slave, Mistress. I am just a slave. And you are my Mistress, until you also learn to taste the joy of obedience." Helena frowned. "You don't have to act like a slave around me." "But I'm not acting, Mistress. I am a slave, born to serve my master." "Uh, no, that's wrong," Helena said. She stood up, while Leah bowed her head even lower. "You are a free man. A free citizen illegally taken from Andromeda." "No, mistress. I must apologize to contradict you, but I am indeed a slave, a willing slave, a slave who exists legally in the universe. I am honored to be owned by my master, and you will learn how to kneel and enjoy obedience to him."

She acted as if it were an unparalleled honor.

Helena slumped down weakly. “That’s terrible. Don’t talk like that, please, it’s terrible.

You don’t really believe it, do you?”

“It is the truth, mistress, a truth you will understand when you are gloriously conquered, just like I was six years ago. I envy you, mistress, for being conquered for the first time.” Her forehead touched the ground. “Would you like some drinks or food while you wait to be conquered, mistress? Perhaps you would rather enjoy my lowly but well-trained body?”

“Oh, goddess of ethics, please guide your lost daughter,” Helena cried. “Earthlings have manipulated her mind, making her believe she is their slave. And she is implying that I will become like that too.” “No,” Helena said, “I’m not hungry.” She moved away from the girl, avoiding the embarrassment of being knelt on, and sat on another sofa. It helplessly deformed into a more comfortable shape.

“I… I don’t need your service.”

Leah knelt down. “I understand, Mistress. You still have dignity, honor, and shame, and you are still affected by those emotions.” She stood up gracefully. “But I am not. Those things have been taken from me by my beloved master, as has my freedom, and I do not miss them, nor will you when you are like me now.”

“I am ordered to serve you. How shall I serve you now?” The way she asked, her sorrowful voice, conveyed her intense need.

Helena took a deep breath. She didn’t want to humiliate the girl, even though she was strongly craving to be humiliated.

She couldn’t control herself, so she didn’t mind.

However, Helena did mind. Giving such an incapable girl an order was tantamount to rape. She felt as if the poor girl’s soul had died, withered like countless other girls enslaved on this space station, and this thought made Helena even more distressed.

Nevertheless, assuming she could trust this slave, this would be a good opportunity to gather information. Helena knew that Leah’s appearance was to annoy her. They must also be monitoring her. So how could she subtly extract the information she wanted? Hmph…

“Tell me where you’re from, Lechia.”

“Thank you, Mistress. I was told I’m from Nonino. ‘Lechia’ is a Nonino name, so I guess I was randomly chosen from Nonino.” She shrugged. “But, you know, I have no memory of life in Andromeda, Mistress.”

“How could that be?” Helena felt she knew the answer, but she wanted to confirm it from the girl herself.

Lechia smiled and pointed to a small bright spot on her forehead. “I’ve been formatted, Mistress, replaced by a new personality. It will happen to you too, unless our masters decide to treat you only as a sex doll.

In that case, they only need to adjust your body after formatting.” Helena gasped, but Leah continued, “But I think that’s unlikely. You are, after all, someone important, the daughter of the galactic chairwoman. Therefore, I think our masters will bestow upon you a special destiny.” She swayed her body gleefully. “What else do you want to know, Mistress?” Nothing more, Helena thought angrily, clenching her fists. This was exactly what she had expected: the inhabitants of Earth routinely corrupted people’s minds and took pleasure in it. Leah

said she came from Nonino. Thirty years ago, the inhabitants of Nonino attempted to fight back against Plato; as a result, they became the victims of a scare—brainwaves were used on the battlefield.

Low-intensity pulses can interfere with brainwaves, causing temporary fainting; but the Earthlings continuously bombarded Nonino with high-intensity pulses for an hour. Over ten thousand people were permanently rendered mentally disabled, with the most severely affected even losing the ability to eat. After that, Andromeda never again attempted to resist the Earth invaders stationed at Plato. Public opinion also shifted in favor of Earthlings from that point onward, which is one of the reasons why Helena's mission became top secret.

"What...you're doing? I mean...after becoming...a slave?" Helena didn't want to know, but at the same time, she had to. "What exactly are you doing here?" "Mistress is too ignorant. Or perhaps I'm sorry, I'm not embarrassed to answer your question. I'm a sex slave. After I was programmed, I was fucked by a group of Earthlings in ecstasy. I still have lingering fears about their methods." She hugged herself, trembling. "I never knew the human body could be positioned in so many ways, or that there were so many positions for men. I was a virgin then, I didn't know anything." She chuckled, "Mistress, would you like to hear the details?" "Leah, no! Just...just stand there and don't say anything." "Yes, Mistress."

Helena rubbed her eyes, thinking, "This isn't working," she was just making herself miserable. Besides, she understood that the Earthlings would never give her a chance to obtain the data.

She looked up at Leah. She stood ramrod straight, her breasts dangling above Helena's head, a smug look on her face. "She seems happy," Helena thought. "Am I treating her the right way?" Her mind wavered.

"Yes!" she answered herself. "No matter who enslaves you, Lessie, you will eventually gain your freedom. No matter what you say now, I know deep down you still yearn for freedom." She swallowed softly. "And I will make it happen. I will fight for your freedom." Ultimate freedom—the fuse within Helena stirred with this thought.

*** *** *** *** While the Andromeda people reject genetic modification, that doesn't mean they're not proficient in the science. They are "new humans," not "old humans." Modified genes make them healthier, smarter, and more beautiful. And the technology of Perseus is the pinnacle. They are masters of a unique technique that allows them to manipulate the body's endocrine system.

In preparing for her journey to Plato, Helena hid two sensitive "fuse" in her endocrine system.

With proper training, she could trigger either one.

The first fuse was simple: Helena could activate a series of chemical reactions to commit suicide. The reaction was rapid; her heart would stop before she collapsed. Simultaneously, brain function would be halted, the cerebral cortex destroyed, and any repair would be futile. This was Helena's trump card when all else failed. She and her mother had long ago agreed that she would never allow barbaric Earthlings to toy with her; she would rather die than be harmed.

Her second fuse was literally a "dynamite fuse," designed for assassination missions. This fuse would activate a chain reaction within her body, stimulating organelles to synthesize a protein. Subsequently, this undetectable organic matter would dissolve into the blood, after which the blood's chemical properties would be almost identical to nitroglycerin.

Of course, she would die; but at the same time, the explosion of her body would also affect everyone around her. Helena anticipated being enslaved by Earthlings before being transported to Plato; she and her mother knew they would find ways to humiliate her.

Although the assassination plot seemed unlikely, Helena still clung to the hope of sacrificing herself for the world's freedom.

Helena knew the explosion would kill her and those around her; moreover, the high-explosive proteins released would rapidly consume oxygen while generating kinetic energy, providing a breeding ground for the anaerobic virus released simultaneously, causing ecological chaos on the planet within three months. Only the biologists of Perseus could avert this ecological catastrophe.

Helena had no intention of dying, but to save her homeland from this hellish state, she was willing to sacrifice herself as an assassin.

For her, it was a necessary sacrifice for a greater purpose.

*** *** *** *** The waiting was the most difficult part of the assassination plan. Hours passed, and Helena's unease grew every second: Had they discovered her bio-trigger? Had she been quarantined as a result?

Leah continued to bombard Helena with questions about her needs, her mood extremely cheerful, displaying a completely subservient attitude—a sight that Helena found utterly "wonderful."

Finally, the elevator doors slid open again, revealing three people standing in the elevator car. Helena immediately recognized the short man in the middle as an Earthling. He was utterly unattractive—like any other polluted Earthling. His eyes and nose seemed too small for his face, while his large ears drooped like a scoundrel's. His sparse black hair was slicked back with oil, attempting to conceal his bald head. His clothing was also appalling; his flashy clothes couldn't hide his gaunt physique.

He smiled at Helena with an ugly yet arrogant grin, an attitude and expression no different from the other Earth invaders.

However, the women beside him were completely different. Compared to the man's short and thin stature, they were tall and well-proportioned, their beautiful muscles bulging with each step they took. Compared to the chaotic, ornate attire of the Earthlings, they wore simple, form-fitting bodysuits, smooth and reflective—the material somewhat resembling Helena's current clothes. The

tight clothing accentuated the two women's athletic physiques: biceps, abs, and strong, long legs—none of the feminine qualities Helena considered desirable, yet she couldn't deny their stunning beauty. The women had neat, short hair, one blonde, the other red.

They had been soldiers, the female guard of the male inhabitants of Earth. They carried no weapons as a threat—they didn't need to.

Leah obediently knelt at the man's feet, then gracefully stood up, spreading her legs in a lewd pose. The three men completely ignored her presence.

A chill ran down Helena's spine. "...It's starting..." she thought, a sense of relief washing over her.

The man introduced himself, his words slurred, "I am Ivanal Tarr, representing the Earth Alliance to receive the tribute from Andromeda." Even the way he bowed was an insult to Helena.

"Are you the mastermind?" she asked. If it was him, she would immediately detonate the "biological bomb" within her!

Tarr straightened up again (though not much taller than when he was bowing). "Oh, no, I'm just Station Master Val's... assistant. We'll see him in a bit." He said with a lapdog-like smile.

This news greatly disappointed Helena—she had to continue enduring that humiliation. The Perseus beauty didn't really want to die, but she would still fight Earthlings with everything she had, and if that meant sacrificing her life, then so be it. Of course, she was also very afraid of death, but her excellent training had hidden her fears. But what she feared even more was the mission's failure, the things Earthlings would do to her home planet, and the prospect of becoming a plaything like Leah.

“You haven’t changed your clothes, little princess of Perseus,” Tarr continued. “Why not, darling?” He smirked. “Shouldn’t you be presentable to our stationmaster and his puppets?” “I despise your government and its despicable technology, and I despise you!” Helena spat in the man’s face. Unexpectedly, the man laughed, seemingly unconcerned by her actions. He didn’t say a word for a few seconds, then, laughing, he ordered Leah to lick her face clean, which she immediately did.

“Monster!” Helena roared, glaring angrily at the lovely, innocent girl humiliating her.

“I’ll kill you!” She took a large step forward and threw a punch, only to be subdued by two female guards. They were very strong; either one could easily break Helena’s back with a knee. They thus restrained the powerless Helena.

“You’re quite rebellious, darling.” He turned Helena’s chin toward him. “I’m curious how you’ll struggle under me later, heh heh, I mean after you’ve received your new life education.” He laughed, enjoying Helena’s screams. Finally, she realized her screams and struggles were futile: there were three of them, and none of them were capable of taking responsibility. She couldn’t waste her only attack on these useless bastards! The

blonde soldier lifted Helena’s thick, smooth hair with one hand. “You’ll make a good slave,” she told the prisoner. “You’re strong.”

“Such beautiful hair,” the red-haired woman embellished, gazing at Helena’s hair. “It’s such a waste to shave it all off.” She teased.

“Enough,” Tartar chuckled. “The boss is waiting.” He completely ignored Leah’s sobs—she was still licking!

The Earthling led the three women and the prisoner into the elevator.

*** *** *** *** Helena observed from inside the elevator: the Earthlings were a head shorter than her; the two soldiers were about half a head taller.

A few seconds later, the elevator arrived at a long, straight, gray room. A huge metal chair sat at one end, its legs and armrests as thick as a waist, all with obtuse angles. Its design was short and sturdy; though it didn't look like a stool, it could only be.

There was a slight commotion in the room: in the adjacent corridor, two men in uniform were holding down a young woman who was struggling wildly, pinning her to the chair. Like Helena, she was also from Andromeda, and Helena recognized her as someone who had come to this space station from Perseus. She didn't remember the girl's name, but she had mentioned coming from a beautiful little town called Cohen. Deeply

in love, she and her boyfriend had always held hands throughout their journey, sometimes gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. But now, she was using every ounce of her strength to resist the violence of the Earth soldiers—this was the scene before her.

Above the chair, a massive cylinder descended, and two technicians stepped onto either side of it. A valve at the top opened, injecting an unknown liquid that reached her shoulders before solidifying into a viscous gel that immobilized her. Thin, transparent needles extended from either side of her head, injecting anesthetic into her cheeks. Then, her beautiful face became as blank and numb as the first guards.

"Oh," Tarr said. "She seems to be the last of that batch." Helena shook her head. What was the girl's name? She couldn't remember. Someone had told her the girl's boyfriend was named Arsen, which Helena remembered. He had come to this space station as a substitute for someone else to keep his girlfriend company. They were an enviable couple. But no matter what, Helena just couldn't remember the girl's name!

As far as she knew, most men who came here were processed into labor slaves. Was he now a laborer for Earthlings?

Damn it, what's your name? Helena screamed in her mind, feeling her memory of the girl vanish.

Another female slave knelt silently in the corner, waiting. Like Leah, she came from Andromeda and wore the same slave uniform. However, unlike Leah, she was bald, her smooth scalp reflecting a gleam that made Helena feel nauseous.

Where had they been sent?

The girl screamed incoherently inside the gel. Her not-so-tall body appeared even smaller in the enormous chair. Then, a transparent cylinder descended from the column, reaching her eyebrows, its rings encircling her forehead!

She screamed in agony, but Helena could tell that physical pain wasn't the primary cause. She had indeed lost her freedom, but she hadn't been subjected to torture, at least not physically. It was psychological torture, and that was what excited the Earthlings around her. People could only see the lower half of the girl's face; the upper half was hidden inside the enormous mechanical helmet. Now she looked like a tiny insect fixed under a microscope.

The cylinder made a clicking and rattling noise. The girl, who had fainted from the shock of the noise, was immediately jolted awake by the machine's electric shock. Realizing she was still alive, she struggled again.

"I can stop this..." Helena thought desperately, "I can activate the second fuse and destroy everything here, right now. But I'm sorry, I can't give up for you alone..." At that moment, she watched fear linger in the girl's eyes.

A moment later, they unnaturally flipped upwards. Helena knew what was being done to her head inside the cylindrical helmet, and the girl's screams began again.

Although she knew she could end her suffering, Helena chose to endure it so that more of her kind could be spared the oppression of the Earth invaders—the time wasn't right. Once the mastermind appeared, she could cause even greater destruction.

"I'm sorry," Helena thought, futilely trying to convey her sympathy with her eyes, even though the girl was completely immersed in the little world inside the helmet.

Suddenly, her hair was pulled into the helmet, as if by a suction force. At this moment, the girl's eyes and movements no longer showed pain; fear had taken over her mind. Clearly, she was worried about her future and her mental well-being; that was her only thought.

Her hair wasn't being pulled from the roots as Helena had expected; it simply dissolved inch by inch, like cotton wool falling into strong acid.

The girl in the chair was just as bewildered as Helena by what she was seeing. Her typical Perseid golden hair, along with her eyebrows, slowly vanished into thin air. The ring around her forehead quickly tightened, constricting her head.

The machine continued to creak and groan.

Helena shifted her gaze to the sides. Tarr was groping her, the female soldiers on either side mocking him, and Leah remained in an indecent position with her legs spread wide.

At this moment, the girl in the machine could only let out weak sobs. A few seconds later, the machine stopped. The girl seemed to realize something, gasping for breath, her voice hoarse and chilling. The ring released her forehead, and the cylindrical machine retracted its top.

She was still crying.

Helena gasped at this moment.

The first thing she noticed, of course, was the girl's awkward bald head!

Her former hair was completely gone; not a single hair could be found on her scalp. Her bald scalp gleamed under the spotlight, her skin the same color as the rest of her body, without a single flaw.

A moment later, Helena observed a second change: tiny, shimmering metal connectors on the girl's skull. Like Leah's, they were deeply embedded in the cranial cavity. The girl in the chair screamed, her terror stemming solely from the initial realization of her baldness; she clearly hadn't felt the metal points piercing her head. "These punctures penetrating the skull must be painless," Helena thought.

And the skin around them showed no inflammation, no swelling, no scarring; merely tiny metal points dotting her bare skin. Just like that, though they had only been installed recently, they looked as if they had been there for a long time. The

weary technician looked at Tartar from the control panel.

"Wash her clean and format her into the standard slave system," the Earthling said. "Set her up as a standard sex slave for us to play with."

"Release her, you perverted scum!" Helena roared.

And Tarl just smiled disdainfully: "You'll be in the machine soon, just waiting for the stationmaster to arrive." At this moment, the technician pressed a button on the control panel.

Several curved cables extended from the back of the chair, like snakes' snouts, toward the interface on the girl's head, the indicator dot in the center of her forehead glowing red. Tiny arcs of electricity connected the interface and the cables, then with a click, the cables seemed magnetically attached to the interface.

Out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw those "little snakes" crawling up her body, and at that moment she let out the loudest scream she had ever let out, though it was still futile.

There was nowhere to escape; the cables were forcibly connected to the girl's head. Now, her brain, through the deeply embedded interface and the external cables, was directly connected to that evil device.

"No…" Helena was too terrified to speak.

A buzzing sound of electricity filled the machine, and the girl's eyes widened in fear and grief. She opened her mouth and let out a final scream… nothing came out.

"No…" Helena despaired. As far as she could see, the fear in the girl's eyes had now been replaced by something else—confusion.

Her arms and legs no longer tensed in resistance to external forces, her breathing slowed, and her confused expression turned into blankness, followed by emptiness—the sparkle in the girl's eyes vanished.

Her mouth unconsciously parted, and saliva slowly dripped from it.

All of this made Helena nauseous: the lovely, pretty girl just moments before, the happy couple on the spaceship, had become a vegetable, an empty shell devoid of all mind and emotion.

Her body remained, but her thoughts had vanished without a trace.

She had been, in crude Earthling terms, "formatted."

Even more terrifying, the process hadn't ended: as another surge of energy flowed through the machine, another terrifying expression appeared on the girl's face—terrifying because it was "happiness"!—joy, dreamlike, and peaceful!

In just a few seconds, the poor girl's expression shifted from one extreme to another: from helpless fear and anxiety, to confusion, to emptiness, and finally to calm and peace.

Now, the girl in the chair smiled for the first time.

It was a genuine smile, warm and happy. The cable detached from her head and slowly retracted. The technician released her restraints.

She wobbled to her feet like a newborn foal. Then, noticing the others in the room, she immediately knelt in astonishment. She spread her legs towards Tarr, cupping her breasts in her hands as she offered herself to him, for he was the highest authority in the room.

"Master," she breathed heavily, her face filled with lust and adoration.

The guards laughed.

"Master," the girl repeated respectfully, as if enjoying the act of saying the word. "How should this lowly slave serve you, my master?"

Helena trembled, and the Earthling nudged her with his toe, saying, "In a moment, you will be kneeling and begging to serve me." The Andromeda Galaxy assassin nearly lost her grip on the fuse in her rage.

Focusing, she reminded herself again to concentrate. The rush of blood was once again suppressed.

Tartar turned to the technician and asked, “Name?”

“Her name is Florona, sir. Her surname is…”

“That’s irrelevant,” Tartar interrupted. He turned to Florona (“That’s her name,” Helena thought, “finally remembering,” but it was too late) and said, “You are Florona. Follow this slave to prepare, then report to cell number 6 to receive your first rape.” He laughed: “Looking forward to your first rape?”

“Yes, master,” said the newborn sex slave Florona, her tone and manner filled with lust.

Giving her her original name was a cruel joke, merely to further humiliate her.

“I long to satisfy men’s desires with my body. I belong entirely to you, every inch of me is your toy.”—She was so different now from the girl who had struggled and cried before!

“Why?” Tartar asked her deliberately. “Spare her, you monster,” Helena thought.

"Because I am a sex slave, Master. I have always been a sex slave, and I will always be a sex slave." Flora raised her head and looked at Tartar with a strange expression—a slightly girlish shyness, yet filled with lewd allure.

"Master, may I ask a question?"

Tartar nodded.

"Master, am I a virgin?" the newborn slave asked.

Helena suddenly realized that Flora herself didn't know. From every angle, she, as a… "person," had only been born a few minutes ago!

These things were morbid.

The technician glanced at the data and nodded: "Yes."

Flora jumped up joyfully: "So my first time will also be my first time!" she said happily, sounding like a dream come true, "Would my men prefer my tight little cunt?" Tartar gave an affirmative answer: "They love to fuck virgin little bitches like you the most." "Goddess of Ethics, I can't bear to watch anymore," Helena shed tears, "Take her away, let her leave this place!"

Perhaps heaven truly heard her plea. Leah, who had been quietly waiting in the corner, came over, put her arm around Frona's shoulder, and led her out of the room.

As soon as they left, all eyes in the room focused on Helena. "The time has come," a guard said gleefully.

"No other way..." Helena thought, "I have to gamble everything!" She couldn't bear to see Frona end up like that.

She looked around. "At least I can take some scum down with me!" She took a deep breath to calm herself, and just as she was about to activate the second bio-trigger within her, the elevator doors opened.

"Ah, boss!" Tarl clapped his hands and said, "We thought we wouldn't see you!" The stationmaster! Helena keenly caught this information. He's here! She restrained her impulse—she had to see the person running this place before blowing it to ashes!

To some extent, what she saw was disappointing; Helena had expected to see an obvious thug.

But the person before her was no different from the other Earthlings on the space station; the stationmaster, the Son of Zeus, was a short, comical man. Behind him stood another pair of beautiful female bodyguards.

"I'm busy,"

the stationmaster said, walking over and scrutinizing Helena. "So this is Sbimo's precious daughter." He scanned her from head to toe. "Very impressive, but shouldn't she be kneeling before me now?"

Tarr replied, "Haha, well said. Guards!"

Tarr's female bodyguards forced Helena to kneel, turning her head towards the stationmaster.

She could only resist angrily.

"This thug destroyed my home," Helena thought, her blood slowly rising. "There are two Earth officials, four soldiers, some perverted technicians, and a damn machine here... It's worth it!" This assassination was just the beginning; Andromeda would launch a counterattack immediately. Her sacrifice was worth it! She feared death, but some futures were more terrifying than death.

If she succeeded, she would be remembered and praised by posterity for sacrificing herself for freedom.

"I've prepared a surprise for you sons of bitches!" Helena shouted passionately, straightening her chest amidst the oppression, determined to show her integrity at the last moment.

The stationmaster raised an eyebrow, teasingly scrutinizing Helena. "How can such a refined lady use such rude language!" After a moment, he added, "I always thought Andromeda women were all very cultured." Helena had prepared a righteous declaration, filled with vicious curses against Earthlings and an oath to the people of Andromeda. But now that seemed too long and superfluous, she improvised: "Though I kneel before you now, you thugs; in the end, you invaders will kneel at the feet of a nobler nation." With that, Helena stood up as high as she could: "My nation and our spirit are superior to yours!" she roared, "I will grant you death! For justice!!!"

She resolutely uttered her final declaration. At this moment, her blood was already boiling, the biochemical reaction chain of the supposed fuse had been activated…

…or rather, it should have been activated…

In fact, nothing happened, nothing at all.

No white light, no noise, no explosion, everything as usual. Besides Helena's racing heart and the beads of sweat that trickled down her back, she was unaware of the urine she had incontinently spilled on the ground.

The Earthlings looked at her mockingly, and the guards' lips curled into a smirk.

Helena... was shocked: "What? How could this be?"

Suddenly, the silence was shattered, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, as the Earthlings erupted in simultaneous laughter.

Helena understood: they knew her fuse! They all knew, and had been playing a trick on her! They had been playing a trick on her from the very beginning!

The stationmaster looked at Tarl: "How was the result, sir?"

"Excellent, Val, truly excellent. You did more than I expected!" The two men were still laughing. The four guards behind them suppressed their laughter and resumed their serious expressions.

"It's you!?" Helena blurted out: "You're the stationmaster here?" Tarl nodded, wiping away the tears of laughter.

"But why!? Why set up this whole thing!?"

"To play with you... obviously." Station Chief Tarl of the Earth Alliance space station said to the trembling girl kneeling at his feet, "So you don't detonate your own fuse right away. If you knew I was the target, the explosion would have happened already!"

He blinked, then said, "That wouldn't be fun." He turned to the imposter station chief and said, "Activate the hologram and you can leave. Leave the rest to me." "Yes, sir." The man gestured to the technicians, who turned on the screen embedded in the wall: a holographic image slowly appeared.

Upon seeing the image, Helena let out a desperate groan.

She saw herself! It was herself! The image was clearly filmed previously, but Helena had no recollection of it: Helena saw herself, right here in this room, struggling and screaming, just like the girl from before, now the sex slave Fromb, being forced into a chair.

She saw the enormous helmet descend and cover her head.

“No…” she whispered, “No! This…this can’t be!!” “How can it not be?” Tarr said. “I knew your mother would take this gamble. But speaking of turning your own daughter into a living bomb…” He shook his head approvingly. “A brilliant plan! Quite admirable, even if it was destined to fail. I stunned everyone on the ship with brain pulses before you boarded, and then examined everyone while you were unconscious. We found some…uh…anomalies.” He smiled smugly.

“It took us several days to find all the abnormal biochemical mechanisms hidden in the blood and endocrine system.

Your doctors deserve respect; they invented entirely new methods to deceive our testing equipment, although with your help we eventually figured everything out.”

“My help!?” Helena cried out in confusion, “But…but I could never help you. Absolutely not!!”

“But you did help after all, and very actively. I mean after some training.” He pointed to the wall-sized hologram. In the image, Helena was still struggling in the colloid.

The massive helmet retracted, and although her hair remained intact, the tiny connectors embedded in Florona's skull were now fixed to Helena's hairline!

"You can remember now," Tarr commanded.

For the young Andromeda girl, something seemed to change in that instant. Raising her hand to her temples, she remembered their existence, even though she hadn't seen or touched them before. Her fingers touched the metal connectors in her temples. "

They drilled into my brain. They drilled holes in my brain and made me forget and ignore it all!!!

" Helena now remembered everything.

"No!!!!" Helena screamed frantically. She tried to stand, but now a single guard was enough to subdue the demoralized Helena. "No!! This can't be real!! It can't be real!!!" "It is the truth," Tarr said, leaning down. "You are a slave, a sex slave, Helena Harmonia Hershaw Semo." He stood up. "You were a week ago, just enough time for us to decipher the bio-funnel within you." He pointed to the hologram.

Inside the hologram, the sinister cable clung to Helena's interface. Helena watched as her movements froze. She watched her face lose its expression, becoming as blank as Fromb's earlier. Like Fromb, she too had been formatted into a vegetative state!

As if to emphasize this scene, Tarr gave Helena's face a close-up. On the screen, he walked to the hollow body on the chair, lifted Helena's chin, and made her face the holographic recorder: "Greet everyone," Tarl said in the image, "and greet yourself, my dear Helena." "Uh..." The soulless body made a sound, just an empty syllable, merely a bodily reflex caused by breathing and the pressure on the throat. It conveyed no meaning; she had no thoughts. She was blank.

The empty and lifeless eyes in the hologram stared at Helena.

She was like a dull mirror in the image.

"No..." Helena repeated, collapsing, "No..." She cried, while the cruel Earthlings continued to mock her.

"We backed up your personality before erasing you," Tarl whispered, "and then constructed a new personality from your original personality and memories, adding traits such as greater obedience. Do you want to see the effect?" Helena ignored him; immersed in despair, she had no time to pay attention to Tarl.

Tartar, feeling awkward, shrugged and continued, "After that, you confessed everything you knew. After all the examinations and research were completed, we reformatted you again, restoring you to your initial personality, with slight modifications, of course." "Your assassination attempt today should have happened a week ago, but you weren't aware of this change." He applauded Helena. "By the way, you did a good job. I mean it. The mission was well-done." Helena calmed down, thinking, "I've lost the fuse, so I have no weapon, no way to fight back. I have nothing left." Despair enveloped her. "He's going to turn me into their slave now, like Fromb. Like Lai..." "Hele."

She raised her head and glared at the Earth invaders with hatred: "I hate you." All of Helena's hatred was contained in those words, and tears still welled in her eyes. "I hate you, and one day I will kill you. We will kill you, the people of Andromeda will kill you!"

Tarl stood there gleefully, slowly laughing: "I don't think so. I think it doesn't have to wait until one day; in fact, in the next few minutes, you will become a sexy and obedient slave, and the only meaning of your life will be sex, service, pleasing, and obedience." The elevator doors behind him opened again, and Leah led a technician out.

“Ah, your master has arrived,” Tarr said. “Now everything is ready.” He leaned over and removed Leah’s long hair—a wig—beneath which, of course, was the bald head of the other slaves. She herself would soon be like that.

“This looks much better,” Tarr said. “It suits your identity better.” “Thank you, Master,” Leah whispered, kneeling and kissing his shoes.

Tarr scratched the back of her ear. “Put her in the chair,” he commanded.

The kicking and screaming young Andromeda girl was once again forced into that evil chair, which would drain her soul and fill the remaining shell with the personality that had enslaved her.

Helena struggled; she tried to fight back by biting; she cried, but in the end, she was secured to the chair. The massive cylindrical helmet descended. “

I’m sorry, Mother,” Helena cried inwardly, “I’m sorry I’ve let you down.”

The cold rings tightened around her head a second time. Click, click, the touch on her head felt like a massage from someone's fingers—not painful at all; in other circumstances, such a "massage" might even be relaxing; but now, the feeling was anything but comforting.

As she watched her hair disappear inch by inch into the air, she couldn't help but sob. She was being shaved bald, permanently. Soon, she would become a true sex slave.

A moment later, the helmet rose. The air rushing into the gap felt cold and strange on her bald head. Helena thought of home. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see the cables climbing up to her. Even so, she could still hear the Tartars' laughter.

Snap, the cable connected to the connector.

Helena silently repeated in her heart: "I am Helena Harmonia Hershaw Semo. I am a citizen of Andromeda, I am free.

'I am Helena Harmonia…'" She tried to finish the sentence, but a darkness cut off her train of thought like a valve; after that, the words were meaningless.

*** *** *** *** "This should be tight enough to accentuate your figure; but at the same time, your master can easily rip it off."

Leah was helping a newly joined slave choose a red dress.

"Thank you~" Helena replied sincerely, feeling incredibly happy to be a sex slave!

In her mind, Leah was a very good manager! She had brought Helena to this room with a view of Perseus and shown her many things to please her master. The manager slave also told her many unbelievable things, such as how she had resisted becoming a slave.

She had so resolutely resisted becoming her master's slave!

This story was unimaginable to Helena now, completely unbelievable.

The door behind Helena slid open, and she and Leah immediately and naturally knelt down with their legs apart.

Their master, Tarl, stomped into the room, his lewd silhouette stirring a surge of desire within Helena.

In her eyes, he was so powerful and strong; how could she have never noticed how handsome and robust he was before? But then again, now in Helena's eyes, all men were gods.

He approached the slaves, who both eagerly spread their legs wider, squeezing their breasts with their hands and chins.

"Master~" Helena called out to Tartar in the most submissive tone possible, as did Lechie.

"Helena," said Tartar, her master, "it seems you are now a qualified sex slave." At this moment, Helena's love for Tartar surged again, because she heard her master call her name, her heart pounding wildly, and her vulva leaking fluid that dripped onto the glass floor.

"Yes, Master," she replied, "Thank you, Master, thank you for granting me the status of a slave." He nodded, turned to Lechie, and said, "Leave here and report to room number 7." "Yes, Master," Lechie knelt on the ground, bowed once, stood up gracefully, bowed to Tartar again, and then walked away. The Earth's inhabitants' attention returned to Helena, and the warmth of that gaze instantly filled her heart.

"May I speak, Master?" she pleaded. Tartar remained silent. Helena then cupped Tartar's boots, rubbing her face against them like a kitten. "Forgive me, Master. Please, forgive this lowly slave. It's all my fault for being so ignorant before."

Helena sadly kissed the surface of his shoes.

"What didn't you understand, little girl?" the incredibly powerful and masculine man in her eyes inquired.

"I didn't understand my identity, Master. I was bewitched, mistakenly believing I was a free person, mistakenly believing I had the right to decide my own destiny." Helena looked up at Tartar with tear-filled eyes. "Now I understand everything. I understand how foolish I was back then, Master. And you, with your boundless generosity, have shown me the truth of life again."

"What truth?" Tartar inquired with great interest, eager to extract the truth from the innocent sex slave's lips.

"I am destined to be a slave, Master. I was born on a planet of slaves, but only after coming here did I truly understand the pleasure and responsibility of pleasing my master."

"Stand up, little slave." Helena immediately obeyed Tarr's command.

"Take it off." Helena immediately tore open her carefully chosen bright red dress at her chest.

"Hands behind your head." She followed the command, striking a lewd pose, her full breasts erect, her nipples trembling with excitement.

Tarr observed every inch of Helena's body, his eyes exploring every detail.

"You used to be an arrogant whore, Perseus."

"Yes, Master."

"But you are no longer arrogant, are you?"

"Yes, Master."

"Why?"

"Because I am now a slave, Master." Helena trembled with fear and anticipation; she so desperately wanted to be pinned down by Tarr. Her greatest fear now was that she was not attractive enough in Tarr's eyes.

"So, you mean your slave status is everything to you?"

"Yes, Master. I've always been a slave. I'm a complete slave. Please forgive me for not understanding this sooner."

He laughed widely. "Open your legs, you little bitch. Open them wider." She obeyed.

Tartar arrogantly and meticulously played with Helena's full breasts, kneading and rotating them, enjoying their soft, elastic texture and just the right weight. Helena gasped with each wave of pleasure from her chest, her mouth wide open, breathing greedily.

Tartar laughed, clearly amused by her unexpected reaction. Her nipples sprang out, and each time his fingers brushed against them, Helena let out a louder moan.

"You were so arrogant and ignorant." Tartar continued to toy with Helena, making her writhe. "You should be punished, don't you think, slave? You even thought about killing us all, didn't you?" Helena murmured, she couldn't remember her crimes, but if her master said so, it was true. “Yes, Master. I deserve punishment. I am truly… truly repentant, Master.” He pushed Helena away. “Kneel!” he roared. Helena returned to her kneeling position with her legs spread apart.

Tarr stepped back to better observe Helena’s posture: “You kneel very gracefully, Perseus.”

"Thank you, Master." Helena lowered her gaze obediently.

"You are a beautiful slave." He stepped back and lifted her beautiful face with his fingers. "Almost as beautiful as your mother, huh?"

Helena didn't remember what her 'mother' looked like, but she knew exactly how to answer.

“Yes, Master. Thank you for your praise, Master.” Helena once again asked for the right to ask a question with a questioning look, which he granted. “Will you punish my mother, Master? Do we have a plan for this?

Will you punish the others in Andromeda?”

Tarr raised his eyebrows curiously: “You really believe they all deserve punishment?” Helena nodded vigorously immediately: “We are foolish, Master. My mother desperately needs to be formatted and rewritten, as do my brethren.”

“Your ‘former brethren’,” Tarr corrected. “As a slave, you are on our side.” “Yes, Master. My former brethren, especially my mother, need to be conquered.” The Earthling pondered for a moment: “Perhaps one day. But although you deserve punishment, it is not my intention.” He gestured for Helena to stand up again and kiss him. Helena had waited too long for this moment, and now it was finally hers. Her movements were delicate and elegant, her breath refreshing, the posture befitting a sex slave. Suddenly, Tartar kissed Helena with even greater force, and she quickly succumbed, completely surrendering to pleasure. She clung tightly to Tartar's back, reveling in the pleasure of being enslaved.

A fire ignited in Helena's lower abdomen, a burning desire as intense as the sun, the effect of just one kiss.

She longed to please Tartar with her body; she longed for Tartar to enter her.

When their lips parted, Tartar smiled and asked, "You say you understand the truth," he gazed into Helena's wide eyes, "If so, then tell me why you and they aren't punished for your assassination attempt."

Helena obeyed, pondering earnestly, analyzing the limited information left in her brain by the brainwashing machine.

She didn't think for long: "The reason I won't be punished for Helena Harmonia Hershaw Semo's sins is because I'm no longer that person. Helena Harmonia Hershaw Semo has vanished into thin air, leaving me only as your sex slave."

"Good, a good start," Tarr said. "Go on."

"As for that foolish woman's mother and her people," Helena continued, "it has nothing to do with punishment, nor with power."

"It seems you really understand," Tarr observed her eyes. "You're right. It has nothing to do with power, right, little slave? At least not directly."

"Yes, Master," Helena said softly in a pitiful voice, fully understanding his meaning.

"It's about pleasure. That's the purpose of our Earth army's invasion. The world you originally lived in thought we were cruel, but that was actually our generosity. We spread desire to everyone. Helping everyone find their proper role in the universe."

"Yes, Master," Helena said, writhing under the man's touch. "I pity them, Master. I pity my mother and all my friends and relatives, because they haven't found the master of their lives." "Our abilities are limited; we can only bestow upon you some sparks of pleasure..." He lifted Helena into his arms and said, "I think the best solution is..." Helena had already been carried to the sofa. "Do nothing, say nothing. Let them wait, let them suffocate in their waiting, let them regret your sacrifice, let them think about why that despicable assassination plan failed."

His nose twitched with excitement: "If they believe you didn't have a chance to activate the bio-explosion, they might try again in the future." They lay down on the sofa, and Tartar let out a satisfied sigh.

"Back to the point, it's time for you to get fucked now, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes, Master, please hurry!!" The Andromeda girl, who was originally free, screamed.

To be fucked! She was about to be fucked! How amazing that would be!!

Tartar made Helena lie flat on the sofa with her legs spread apart. He knelt between her thighs and licked Helena's body, his tongue sliding over Helena's red lips and throbbing clitoris, making this newborn slave growl like an animal.

After a while, he took off his shirt and gently entered her body, making her cry with joy in his arms. He gradually made her climb to the peak of pleasure, while slowly making her fall into the abyss of enslavement.

Then Helena used her tongue to clean the fluids on her master's body, a fullness and joy she had never felt before. After it was over, she licked her lips reluctantly, while Tartar had already instructed her to kneel on the floor.

Helena knew exactly what to do next: lean back, grip her ankles with her delicate hands, push her lower abdomen forward, spread her thighs, and let her chest rise into the air.

Her plan was meticulous; she now possessed all the knowledge needed for her new life. Along with this vast amount of sexual knowledge, an endless lust was etched into her brain. Even as she watched her conqueror, who had just finished with her, she was already anticipating his second round.

Tartar would occasionally reach out and poke his adorable collection: "First, as the daughter of the former female president of the galaxy, we'll arrange for you to publicly receive our people, either alone or in groups. Then, after the initial novelty wears off, we'll assign you to a breeding farm for ordinary sex slaves, where you'll have the opportunity to serve everyone who pays."

"Thank you, Master. That sounds amazing!"

"Then, a month or a few years later, we'll take your mother and send you both to Earth, offering you and other celebrities as tribute to the high-ranking officials of the Earth Federation. You'll become perfect, mysterious tributes:

beautiful, dignified, and powerful Andromeda sex slaves, used exclusively for their entertainment. You'll likely spend the rest of your lives in the brothels of the moon." "

I'll be proud of that, Master. Please, Master. Fuck me one more time! I beg you!" He laughed as he pulled Helena into his arms, barely managing to thrust deep into her vagina.

*** *** *** At this moment, her hormonal balance was shattered, for she had completely accepted her status as a slave, completely succumbed to the vortex of lust… The third biochemical trigger, unbeknownst to her, the trump card secretly implanted in her body by the medical team, was activated.

Helena died, in the blink of an eye, losing her life in ecstasy without pain. Her death triggered a series of biochemical reactions within her body, activating another hidden chain reaction in her blood, and a violent organic reaction erupted in an instant.

Before Tarr could even realize her death, Helena exploded in his arms. The explosion not only killed Tarr but also blasted a huge gap in the wall of the space station.

The power of a single explosion was limited; the ensuing plague was the real focus of the assassination. Even though most of the explosion debris was sucked into space, in the following weeks, most of the Earthlings on the space station still died from an unknown incurable disease.

The inhabitants of the Andromeda Galaxy mourned Helena's passing, but for those who knew the truth of the plan, the assassination's success was a consolation; even for the chairwoman grieving the loss of her beloved daughter, it offered some solace.

This counterattack opened the prelude to the main war, strengthening Andromeda's fighting spirit. History will forever remember Helena.

This history once again confirms a truth: sometimes, despite immense reluctance, pain, and cruelty, for the sake of ultimate freedom, the weak often have only one path—sacrifice!

[The End]

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