Mother of the Sewers

by Dave Hicks

 

Chapter 1

 

1

 

I own and operate the city’s garbage treatment system. Whatever society throws away, eventually comes to me. And you’d be amazed what people throw away. In a world almost totally devoted to leisure, no ‘real human’ has to work for a living - I’ve got a job. I guess that makes me a little odd - or at least different.

I’ve always believed - you can tell the wealth of the modern world by the quality and quantity of its trash. No one gives a thought to what happens to all their garbage. As long as it goes away and doesn’t come back, they’re happy. My job is to make sure it does come back - in a more desirable form. Nothing ever gets wasted.

I’ve always spent my working life on my own and I’m fairly comfortable with that. I’ve got my girls for company and that’s fine. What it boils down to is; I don’t have a partner and I don’t really have a very full social life either. I've never felt the need for either. You could call me a bit of a loner I suppose. Life seems less complicated that way. That’s not to say I'm ugly or anything - I’m definitely not. Apart from a few casual friends, I’ve never got around to knowing many women - although I like them well enough. I think my work is important and it takes up most of my time.

The whole waste management system is automated, with robots doing virtually all the work. I’m there to correct anything that goes badly wrong, or intervene if a particularly unusual situation presents itself. Since I’d recovered and rebuilt Amanda and Barbara, I don’t even need to do that. My girls are anthropomorphic humanoids - anthroes in everyday language. Artificial humans, grown in a vat.

It’s pretty well impossible to tell an anthro from a human, just by looking at them. In my opinion, it’s only the law and society that makes any real distinction between them and us. If anything, anthroes are smarter than we are. Anthroes are classed as property and have no basic rights.

I don’t place a lot of restrictions on my two anthroes. I haven’t even implanted a controller in their skulls. They’re free to do mostly what ever they like - within the law and what I require of them. They’re seem quite happy to devote their lives to their work and keeping me company. They don’t mix with the general population, except when it involves their work and that’s hardly ever. They seem reasonably happy with their life. In the waste disposal business, you don’t get to see many people.

Most of the anthroes I get are dead, with a fair proportion of parts missing. I can’t make much use of them. Some are alive but not worth saving. Very occasionally, I get one in a reasonable condition. It was by taking parts from other discarded anthroes, I’d managed to assemble my two girls, in first place. With the training I've given them, they’re quite capable of running the system without me - if necessary. Amanda spends most of her time in the control room and doing office work. Barbara directs most of the repair work, with the robots and various other pieces of equipment assisting her. It’s given me time to develop and build an improved heavy metal reclamation and refining system, which has become very profitable.

 

2

 

One day, I was in the control room with Amanda, when one of the supervisor robots informed us it had found something interesting, among the constant flow of trash entering the facility. I went down to the processing floor to have a look for myself. It was an anthro and appeared to be still alive. A female and she looked undamaged. I brought her back to the workshop to have a better look at her.

The robot was right. Further investigation revealed she was in excellent condition. With the replacement of a few components, from the spares I'd accumulated over the years, I made her fully functional. I decided to call her Carol.

I noted the number tattooed on her forearm and registered my ownership of her. I waited at the computer display for a few minutes, to see if anyone objected. No one did. Carol now belonged to me.

Then I got a very brief message from the company that made her. They advised me to kill her immediately. I asked why. They replied - she was an experiment that went wrong. They refuse to give me more information and broke the connection.

Amanda and Barbara are general purpose anthroes. They’re designed to perform most jobs. They’re slim, strong and small breasted. I'd never gone to the bother of making them look any different. I'd never felt the need to have sex with them either. They didn’t have the shape I find attractive in a woman - although they’d be quite happy for me to change them - if I wanted to. I simply hadn’t bothered. All female anthroes are sterile but most are sexually capable.

However, Carol was purpose built anthro. Designed to care for young children and people with disabilities, old age and illness. She was plump and maternal, with a very large bosom. She was designed to be a nanny or a nurse, of some kind. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with her. I didn’t feel the need for a nanny or a nurse. I thought of selling her for a tidy sum. When I mentioned my thoughts to Barbara and Amanda, they tried very hard to talk me out of it. I think it had something to do with having been discarded themselves. They could sympathize with Carol’s position.

For whatever reason, Carol stayed and became part of the family. I didn’t need the money I would’ve got for her anyway. I’d accumulated plenty of that, over the years.

As her new owner, I immediately became the focus of her motherly and nurturing instincts. I'm used to caring for myself, so it took a little time for me to adjust to having her constantly fussing about me. She seemed to take control of my life and in no time at all, she was preparing my meals, cleaning the living area and making sure I went to bed on time.

Amanda and Barbara could see what Carol was doing and decided it was just what I’d always needed. I think female anthroes tend to stick together - in fact, I’m sure they do.

Although I can program my girls to have any personality or attitude I want, I prefer to leave that part of them pretty well as they are. It’s not that I don’t know how to do it - sure I can. It’s just I’d rather leave well enough alone. Too much fiddling with their minds creates problems, in the long run. Amanda and Barbara’s personalities have never been a problem. I don’t even bother to remove the memories they had of their lives with their previous owners.

Carol was a very different kind of anthro. Her relationship with me was more personal. Within a day of my resurrecting her, she expressed her concerns regarding satisfying my sexual needs. She insisted - because I'm male - she must regularly relieve me from the awful tyranny of sexual frustration. This was in order for me to live a happy, healthy and fulfilling life. After a few days of her asking me when I would like to be gratified, I felt it was time we had a serious discussion on the subject. Simply being sexually relieved felt much too cold and mechanical for my tastes. When she mentioned to me, she wanted me to suck her breasts to initiate her milk production, that’s when I started to became more than a little concerned.

I decided to consult the city’s main library to learn more about Carol’s construction and fundamental mental framework. What I found surprised me a little. She belonged to a group of anthroes designed to care for children and the very elderly. That particularly included children who weren’t well behaved or cooperative. Simply giving in to them was not part of her mental makeup. If she considered something was of benefit to those in her care, she would persist - using any means available - until she found a method that would fulfill her programming.

The behavior Carol exhibited was inherent in her. She was constructed to act in a certain way and no amount of programming on my part would significantly alter that. Any attempt by me, to change her basic motivations would be detrimental to her and would probably cause her major internal mental conflicts. It’s the way she was constructed. Carol took her duties very seriously. Just how seriously I was about to discover.

To Carol’s mind, she’d given me every opportunity to cooperate with her views regarding my sexual relief and being breast fed. I had failed to respond in the appropriate manner. The only avenue left open to her now - to maintain my physical and mental well-being - was direct control. And that’s exactly what she did to me.

 

3

 

She secretly used one of my credit accounts to purchase an anthro controller. While I was asleep, she implanted the small device into the base of my skull. It would force me to obey any command she gave me. When I awoke, I was totally under her control - unable to remove the device or disobey her.

She immediately informed me what she’d done. Once I'd got over the initial shock of what had happened to me, it didn’t seem so bad. The implant already at work. Even though I knew the control device was changing my thinking, there was nothing I could do about it. I now began to find Carol an attractive woman - particularly her very large breasts. My dislike of being mechanically and coldly sexually satisfied had been completely suppressed.

As it happened, she was a gentle, skillful and patient lover. I found feeding from her breasts very pleasurable. As her milk production increased, it reduced the amount of other food I needed. Within a short time, I was living almost entirely on her milk. I had become dependent on her breasts as my only source of nourishment. Because I was controlled by Carol, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about changing the situation - even though I was completely aware of what was happening to me.

 

4

 

One day, my mother made one of her rare visits. Like most people, she’s not at all enthusiastic about descending into the sewers. Most people find the smell objectionable. I’ve never notice it.

"Why do you live like this?" she’d ask me. "It’s not natural for a human to live underground, the way you do. Especially in a sewer system. That’s the job of anthroes."

Before I could answer her, Carol entered the living room and informed me it was time for me to be fed.

"Who the hell is she?" my mother asked, in surprise. "Great fat thing. One of your restored anthroes, I suppose?"

I nodded as Carol sat beside me and proceeded to unfasten the front of her dress.

"This is my mother," I informed Carol. "It would be inappropriate to do that in front of her."

Carol refastened her dress and smiled at my mother.

"I’m so sorry," Carol said to my mother. "I’m very pleased to meet you."

My mother ignored her angrily and then turned to me.

"Get rid of her," my mother ordered sternly. "I’m not having a conversation, with a big lump like that listening to my every word."

"Would you mind leaving us, please Carol?" I asked.

"Certainly, David," she smiled, as she rose from her chair. "I’ll bring you something to drink, later."

"Thank you," I replied.

Once Carol had left the room, my mother started asking questions.

"Why are you talking to her as if she’s a human?" she inquired. "I’ve always considered myself to be a woman of the world and if you’re having sex with her, that’s your business. But - the way she was acting - you’d think she owned the place."

"It’s okay," I said, hoping to placate my mother’s hostility. "I still have some programming problems with her to sort out."

My mother stared at me intently.

"And that’s all?" she asked. "Just programming problems? You haven’t been stupid enough to fall in love with her - have you? Or something equally as ridiculous. Heaven’s knows what you get up to - buried down here all the time. I simply couldn’t stand the thought of my son, in love with some dirty, fat anthro. I’d never be able to live with the shame. Heaven only knows what would happen if my friends found out. If I thought for a second that was happening, I’d have you placed in treatment immediately."

"No," I tried to assure her. "You don’t have to worry about that. It’s nothing like that - I promise. I made her out of bits and pieces. Her programming still needs a lot of work. I don’t have all the fancy equipment the anthro factories do. There’s bound to be some behavioral errors. How could I ever fall in love with an anthro. You raised me better than that."

My mother gazed intently at me for a few moments.

"Well," she said finally. "If that’s all there is to it - then I guess that’s enough. I just hope you know what you’re doing, that’s all."

"I’m sure," I smiled.

"A friend of mine - her son fell in love with an anthro. It took ages of treatment to get him right in the head again. Personally, I still don’t think he’ll ever be the full measure again. I don’t want that happening to you."

"It’s nothing like that."

"Maybe you should meet some nice girls?" she suggested. "It’s not at all healthy being down here all the time. You need to meet people - female, human people, instead of those silly anthroes, you’ve made out of spare parts. I’ll have a talk to a few of my friends. Some of them have lovely daughters. You’d really like them."

"You don’t need to bother," I replied weakly. "I’m okay."

"It’s no bother at all," she smiled firmly. "Nothing’s ever a bother for a mother - not when it involves her son’s happiness."

I said nothing. What’s the use? I know my mother all too well. Once she makes her mind up, it’s pointless to try and talk her out of it. Life had just become a lot more complicated for me.

The conversation turned to my father’s latest art exhibition. It looked as thought I was off the hook - for the time being. But knowing my mother - it wouldn’t be the last I’d hear about it.

 

5

 

"What am I going to do?" I asked Carol. "My mother is going to try and get me hitched up with someone. I know her all too well. Once she sets her mind on something, nothing will stop her."

"You mustn’t worry, David," Carol smiled. "It’s my job to help you with any problems you have."

"What are you going to do? I know she wants me to get rid of you. Then she wants me out of the sewers and married to some female of her choosing. No human woman would want to live down here."

"The best thing to do," she advised, "is to make sure no woman would ever want you for a partner. That way, your mother can’t insist you be married - can she? She’ll probably prefer you stay down here in the sewers and not be an embarrassment to her."

"And how can I do that?" I asked.

"I’ll turn you into a woman," Carol smiled.

Even as my mind started to react with shock at what she’d said, my control implant intervened. There was nothing I could do to stop her.

 

6

 

For a month of more, I lay paralyzed on my bed, drifting in an out of consciousness, as my body changed. Carol would always be there, sitting on the bed beside me, talking to me.

"The changes are going wonderfully," she would smile. "Humanity is finished - as it is now. It’s reached an evolutionary dead end. We anthroes have known this for a long time. You’re going to be a new breed of woman. The mother of the next step in the development of the human race. You’ll be self fertilizing and have lots of lovely children."

When my metamorphosis was complete, Carol allowed me to move from the bed. Weakly, she helped me stand before a mirror and saw myself for the first time.

I was a woman - in every detail. I was plump, with broad hips and thighs. My breast were massive.

"Don’t you look wonderful?" she asked, with a smile. "You’ve turned out perfectly."

 

7

 

A day later, two anthro police officers broke into the room.

"Which of you is the owner?" one asked sternly, the gun in his hand tracking every movement of his eyes.

"I am," I answered. "Why are you here?"

The other pointed a scanner towards me, to confirm my identity, then nodded to the other.

"I have a warrant of termination for an anthro you’ve acquired recently, citizen," the first replied. "It’s a dangerous reject from an anthro factory and is considered by the authorities to be a threat to welfare of society."

"That’s ridiculous," I answered, knowing nothing can stop a police anthro from executing his duty.

"You must present the anthro now, for termination," the other lawman informed me. "Otherwise, we have instructions to terminate you all - should you refuse - to ensure the anthro is non-functional."

"I am the anthro you seek, officer," Carol announced.

The gun gave a soft spit and a small hole appeared in middle of Carol’s forehead. She slumped in her chair.

"Thank you for your cooperation, citizen," one police anthro nodded to me, as they turned to leave.

In horror, I turned to stare at Carol. I knew she was dead.

 

8

 

When my mother discovered how I now looked, she refused to have anything more to do with me.

Shortly afterwards, I became pregnant.

Months later I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. I named her Carol, in memory of a discarded anthro who’d had given up her life, to ensure the human race would survive.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Dave Hicks. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.