“Wait, wait, wait; let me make sure I’ve got this. You’ve abducted me and you’re going to put me into a box that’s going to turn me into a nanite-based sex-bot to be programmed and sold and used?” The man pinches himself for the sixth time in this conversation after confirming what you’ve said for the third time. His pants are visibly tented and he looks between you and your Mistress with obvious lust, eyes shining with joy. "I'll be owned, and *everything*? Like a piece of property rather than a person?"
“That’s about right!” You chirp. “I’m a former human myself! Converted into Mistress’s MAR-1, or MARI, as I introduced myself as, about a month ago! I can tell you that being a robot is so much better than my life before” Not exactly a lie, but it’s not entirely the truth. You love being MAR-1, but you wish you could miss being human. You don’t miss it, but you know that’s largely due to the various Mental Adjustments and other things which have been piled onto your psyche. Still, Mistress is pretty great and you wouldn’t go back to being human if you had the choice. Probably. Just you wish you had a bit more free will. It's not a big deal though, it's not like it's forcing you to be or do things you don't want to at this point.
"Thank you god, or Satan, or whatever. Lets do this Mari! WHOOOO!" He's already looking for the means to get converted, fist-pumping and jumping in the air.
“And here I was expecting some sort of struggle. Good pick Mari. He’s perfect for this.” Turning to the man who’s looking like a golden retriever being held back from meeting a whole school-bus full of new friends, “Sooooo, you want to spend some time getting oriented and acquainted or do you want us to just shove you into the box?”
The man, Thomas Stevenson, 30 years old, IT consultant at a medium sized company, single, lives alone, few friends, balding in a most unfortunate way, pale from lack of sunlight, and 170 pounds overweight, shakes his head vigorously. “No! No! Just into the box, right away!” You teleported him into the cargo bay and he’s looking over the various conversion devices with obvious interest. “Which one….uh, does the sex-botting?” He asks, lamely.
Lisa points at the large and gray unassuming box with warning labels, floating gently above the deck. It’s about 5 feet by 3 feet by 3 feet. You remember it being rather heavy when you loaded it in, much heavier than it looked. “Go up and put your hand to it.” She orders the human, watching as he does so without any hesitation, almost running up to it.
“Do I need to take my clothes off? How long is this going to take? Do you know what it feels like?” Thomas’s voice comes out like a child who’s asking questions about the new unicorn they got for Christmas, eyes brimming with happiness as he, without prompting, hugs the box, as if to try and trigger it.
“Alright. So, Carl said that once you put your hand on, or, er, hug it, I guess, I need to prime it. And then once that happens, you need to maintain dermal contact for ten minutes, at which point it’ll have bonded and the box should open.” She’s reading from a datapad then pressing a few buttons, causing the thing to start glowing. “You can keep your clothes on, because it’ll use all of you for fuel for the nanites.” Another point to you, for getting one with a lot of mass. “Depending on the conditioning you need, you could be out walking about in a transitional form in twenty four hours, or need up to a month stewing if significant mental correction is needed.” A shrug. “Don’t think that’ll be a problem for you though.”
Thomas, who has since removed his shirt and is trying to get as much dermal contact with the box as possible, shakes his head. “No! No problems at all. Haaaa, I get to be TAMA…I can tell you all about her if you want?” He looks hopeful as Lisa coughs lightly, shaking her head.
“Oh! Look at that! I need to handle something on the bridge, how about Mari keeps you company until you’re in the box, okay?” The lizard, making her escape while she can.
The next ten minutes or so are you trying your best to listen and answer questions about being a robot. It’s not that hard to give a ‘nice’ version, after all, the happier people are going into this, the easier the process will be on them. And Mistress probably gets paid more if the converted humans take to the programming and change well, like you did. You did spend some time trying to scan the now ‘active’ box, but get nothing other than encryption and polite refusals of any data connections with what seems to be a pretty advanced AI (not a converted sapient; you can tell instantly).
At ten minutes on the dot, the box…