Crimestopper 5000
Posted: Sat Aug 03, 2024 12:00 am
It was all a bunch of politically correct garbage, according to Hank Renolds. The first real steps to cleaning up the streets in a long time, and now they want to neuter it. Hank was the project lead on the Crimestoppper program at DynaTron Unlimited. It was his baby, and they were badmouthing it. Badmouthing *him*.
They said the program was racist. How can it be racist? They were robots. Then they said *he* was racist, because he programmed them. Well of course the arrest numbers are going to be skewed, look at the neighborhoods where they get deployed! Look at who commits the crimes! Hank wanted to speak out, to fight back, but the corporate overlords at DynaTech just caved. Issued some oversensitive apology and ran away with their tails between their legs.
And now the system had been sent back to Hank for "reprogramming", along with an admonishment to him about "cultural sensitivity". Every city in the country had placed orders for his system and he gets scolded for it.
Buncha PC crap is what it was. But Hank begrudgingly changed the algorithms to be more "equitable".
--
The Crimestopper 5000 was an automated system for patrol, arrest, and detention of criminal suspects. In the four test cities, the robotic units had been deployed to the worst neighborhoods with the highest crime. In three months, arrests were up over 300% and crime was down 78%. Kids could play outside again. Soon every city wanted one.
The only problem was that the courts couldn't keep up with the number of arrests. Limited numbers of prosecutors and judges meant that jails quickly filled up with criminals awaiting trials. This led to more revolving door policies that put the bad guys back on the streets, often in mere hours.
One of Hank's team discovered the rather controversial solution when he was arrested for drunk driving. To his great distress, Jim Richfield found out that the courts had long treated statements made while under the influence to be 100% admissible in court. His complaints provided the key to the last barrier for nationwide implementation.
**One year later**
Dana Little was coming home from her morning jog. It was 6:47 AM, and she had two blocks to her house. The dew was still on the grass in the quiet suburban neighborhood, but she liked to get an early start on the day. The 32 year old had just enough time to shower and grab a bagel before heading into the office.
She was dressed in a sports bra and jogging shorts. Both clung to her skin tightly, damp with sweat. Dana was proud of her body. Years of regular exercise meant she was toned and fit, but still would have dressed more conservatively except almost nobody was up and about at this time. She preferred a minimalist approach while working out. She didn't even wear socks under her running shoes.
Dana angled across Pinehurst Drive, her shoes softly clapping on the black asphalt of the neighborhood street. With no cars out this early, she lazily drifted to the other side of the road. Her house was down another block and a half to the right. Dana was really looking forward to her hot shower. It had been quite a long run this morning, and she was feeling kind of sweaty and gross.
The young woman had no idea she was being watched. A hundred yards down the street, behind a row of bushes, lurked an observer. A fraction of a second later, it completed an algorithm, and then moved to intercept.
She stepped out of the street and into her driveway when she noticed the humming noise behind her. Dana turned around and stared at the thing in confusion. It was about four feet tall, and looked something like R2-D2 crossed with Rosie from the Jetsons. Somehow the thing balanced on a single rubber wheel. A small set of red and blue flashing lights were on top. Then a synthesized voice straight from the 1980s came out of it.
"Stop. You are in violation of municipal code 21 B, subsection 14-2. Please present identification."
Identification? Municipal code what? Dana didn't know what that was, or what *this* thing was.
"I don't... I don't have any identification. I'm jogging."
Another algorithm computed in a microsecond, and a decision was reached.
"Please place your hands behind your back. You are under arrest."
Dana didn't know what this thing was, but she knew this wasn't good. She certainly wasn't going to put her hands behind her back, or let herself be arrested by some walking trash can. Dana turned towards her house and started to run.
She made it three steps.
The next-gen taser hit her right in the ass. Two little prongs pierced her jogging shorts, and a quick blast of rapidly-cycled electricity froze the woman in place. Unlike older tasers, this version didn't cause the subject to fall. Voluntary muscles simply seized up. Dana's body snapped to attention, legs together, arms at her side. She was rooted to the spot.
Ca-chunk, ca-chunk, ca-chunk. Less than five seconds had gone by before bindings wrapped around her. Ankles, wrists, and neck. They were cold and metallic. Then she felt her body forcibly jerked about. She bent 90 degrees at the waist, and there was another clunk sound.
The electricity stopped a moment later, and that was when Dana lost control of her bladder. She squeezed her eyes shut in humiliation as her shorts soaked through, and pee ran down her legs. The thought ran through her head that the day couldn't possibly get any worse.
The robot observed the accident and cross-checked against the local municipal code. It determined that "public urination" was certainly against the law, and added it to the criminal's growing list of charges. A hatch opened and an arm extended with a small clamp and a micro-cutter. With a quick whirring sound it deftly removed the soaking article of clothing, which it stored for evidence.
"Have a nice day, ma'am. A retrieval unit will be by later in the day to complete your processing."
That was when Dana began to scream. The robot added "disturbing the peace" to the charges, and then directed a burst of devoicing spray down the woman's throat. Then precisely one minute and fifty-six seconds after the unit made first contact with Dana Little, it turned around and rolled down the street, on the lookout for more criminals to arrest.
Since Dana had never given her name to the officer, she was categorized as a Jane Doe. Since her offenses were all misdemeanors in nature and she was considered effectively neutralized, she was given a Class D categorization for pickup priority.
At about 7:30 that morning, Dana's neighbors began their commute. Garage doors up and down the street opened, and cars backed out onto Pinehurst Drive. And as each of them rolled past 12237 Pinehurst, they all slowed down.
Dana Little was standing in her front yard, wearing only a sports bra and a pair of running shoes. She was bent at the waist, legs shoulder width apart, ass facing the street, hairy little pussy on display for all who cared to see.
--
At about 9:15, Debbie McCullough from across the street walked over to make sure Dana was okay. Debbie was in her mid-50s, didn't work, and lived alone. She had divorced her husband and got quite a substantial amount in alimony. Dana suspected the woman was a lesbian.
Debbie walked up behind Dana and slowly inspected her neighbor. The younger woman had a metal band wrapped around each ankle. Some kind of tent spike was driven into the dirt. How deep, Debbie couldn't tell. Dana's wrists were clamped together in front and similarly anchored into the ground. When Debbie walked around to the side, she could see a metal collar wrapped around the woman's neck. A telescoping rod ran down from her neck, connected to her wrists, and then went into the lawn. This arrangement kept her bent right at 90 degrees. She couldn't really bend her legs much, and definitely couldn't squat down. It seemed that Debbie's pretty neighbor didn't really have much choice but to stand there flashing the whole neighborhood.
"Are you alright honey?" Debbie asked. She put her hand on Dana's ass and gave it a squeeze.
Dana shook her head 'no'. She tried to tell Debbie that this must all be a huge misunderstanding. She hadn't done anything wrong, and some stupid robot had violated her. No sound came out of her mouth.
"I heard about these things, you know. Robot cops that arrest people for any ol' thing. I'm sorry they got you honey. From what I hear there are still some bugs to work out." Debbie's hand slid lower down, to where Dana's ass cheek ended and her thigh began. The tips of her fingers brushed against the lips of Dana's pussy.
Debbie spent about fifteen minutes talking to Dana, verbally soothing her while physically running her hands over the bound woman's helpless body. The more she caressed, the more Dana's body started to tremble and twitch. Debbie smiled at the girl's helplessly growing arousal.
When Dana's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and she started bucking her hips backwards (at least as much as her bonds would allow), Debbie pulled her hand away.
"Well I'm sorry this happened to you, sweetie. How utterly humiliated you must feel. I watched all those men in their cars slow down and stare at you. I think a lot of them were taking videos with their phones. You have to be utterly mortified, now that every one of them knows what you little pussy looks like." At the word 'pussy', Debbie ran a finger over it. Dana silently gasped.
"I'll be by later to check on you honey!" And then she went back across the street and inside her house.
Debbie McCullough came by three more times that day, bringing Dana a glass of water with a straw in it. She let Dana drink, and each time she let her fingers explore a little more.
--
The paddywagon came to the house at 1:52 that afternoon. Rather than a typical police vehicle, it looked more like a converted garbage truck. A mechanical arm swung out and connected to Dana's collar. The spikes in the ground retracted out, and Dana was frog-marched over to the rear of the truck. A door opened, a platform lowered, and she was led inside.
--
The slow, methodical dispensation of justice had been the sticking point that held everything up. As fast as the Crimestopper 5000 system could arrest perps, trials and sentencing took almost forever. Hank knew there had to be a way to introduce the efficiencies of automation.
And thanks to Jim Richfield's DUI, Hank and his team found a way. Oh it didn't work for everything. Big crimes still required big trials. But not everything was a robbery or a murder. And now that the Equity Algorithm was in place, the Crimestopper 5000's "accelerated adjudication" system made things a lot easier.
Activists had long complained about the great disparity in punishments for people of different ethnicities. Just that morning a judge downtown had given Mr. Deondre Washington 30 years for a gang shooting over on the east side. That kind of punishment disparity was bad for the city, people might think they were a bunch of racists. But by patrolling lower crime neighborhoods more aggressively, the Crimestopper 5000 could balance the scales, ensure that sentences were more evenly distributed. It had 30 years of sentencing to hand out today, among under-represented demographic groups. Like attractive young women.
In this way, equity would be achieved.
--
Dana's legs and back were sore from holding the same position for several hours. But she really had no choice as the motorized arm on top of the huge truck led her up the ramp and inside. There was a "chunk" sound as she walked in, as the exterior arm handed her off to an interior one. The door closed behind her and suddenly it was pretty dark.
The interior arm pivoted her around, and pulled Dana back against a wall. The backs of her knees hit something and her butt unceremoniously dropped onto a bench. Some kind of magnetic locks kicked in, and her ankles, wrists, and neck were trapped in place.
Dana looked around the room, eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. There were at least six other women in the truck. All of them were attractive white women. Three of them were in business suits. A cute redhead was in a pair of pink panties and a college sweatshirt. An absurdly busty brunette of about 45 was wearing a sheer nightgown and not much else. Huge dark nipples were visible through the material. Then there was a girl barely out of high school, wearing a fast food uniform and thick glasses, who was crying. One of the women in a business suit sat limp in her chair, eyes fluttering. A trickle of drool ran down her chin. Above each of the women was a small LCD screen with name, photo, and the words "GUILTY" glowing in red. Underneath those angry capital letters was info regarding each woman's sentence, but Dana didn't have time to read those.
As the garbage truck/paddywagon started to move forward, Dana heard a mechanical sound above her. Another LCD screen, obviously the one that was perched above her own head, swiveled out and descended in front of her face. Words began to scroll across, and the digitized 1980s computer voice spoke out.
"Jane Doe, you have been arrested for the following charges. Jaywalking. Attempted escape from a police officer. Obstruction of justice (failure to present ID). Public urination. Disturbing the peace." A list of what Dana could only presume were statute numbers appeared beside each crime. "As municipal charges, each carries a maximum punishment of 6 months incarceration and a $500 fine. That is a total exposure of two and one-half years and two thousand five hundred dollars in fines. If you wish to have a criminal trial you will be provided with an attorney. However you may waive criminal trial today and enter a plea of guilty."
Dana struggled to process everything. This was moving too fast. The robotic voice continued.
"If you enter a plea of guilty, the municipal court will offer you..." It paused for a moment as an algorithm ran. "...SIX MONTHS of incarceration at a forced labor camp. Do you wish to plea guilty?"
Six months for jaywalking?!? Dana was outraged. She tried to scream 'fuck you' to the computer, but of course she was devoiced, so no sound came out of her mouth.
The computer could read lips, however. It noted her rejection of the plea offer, and proceeded to the next stage. Officially the treatment was listed as a mood stabilizer, to prevent violent criminals from damaging the equipment. Secretly, Hank Renolds' team called it the "persuasion" stage. Dana felt something jab into her butt cheek, and then coughed as a light pink mist sprayed directly from a tiny nozzle under the LED screen.
The computer waited as the garbage truck/paddywagon got on the highway. The next pickup was on the other side of town, a good twenty five minutes away. There were three more seats inside the truck. It would circle around the city until they were occupied.
Seven minutes later, Dana was feeling very horny.
The arousal she had felt when Debbie McCullough had teased her was nothing compared to this. Whatever had been injected into her was driving her mad. Dana's pussy was soaking and swollen, and her hips thrust back and forth on the bench completely involuntarily. It was instinctual, reactive, animal. She could feel a trail of pussy slime on her thighs as she drooled on the seat and then smeared it around.
The other women looked at Dana with pity. They knew it could only end one way.
The computer spoke to her again. "The municipal court has reassessed your charges. If you wish to enter a plea of guilty now, the court will recommend ONE YEAR of incarceration at a forced labor camp. Do you wish to accept and plea guilty?"
Dana could barely think. One year? Wasn't that more than before? She shook her head no and spit at the camera. The computer noted her rejection of the plea offer.
Another twelve minutes went by. By now, Dana would do absolutely anything to cum. But something was preventing her. No matter what she did, orgasm was always just out of reach. At some point the seat underneath her had begun to vibrate. Dana was desperate. Her body trembled and spasmed. If she hadn't been devoiced, her moans could have been heard by the people in the cars outside.
The computer spoke again. "The municipal court has reassessed your charges. If you wish to enter a plea of guilty now, the court will recommend TWO AND ONE HALF YEARS of incarceration at a forced labor camp. As a reward for accepting responsibility and honesty, you will also be given the antidote to the orgasm blocker administered earlier."
Orgasm blocker? What?
"Do you wish to plea guilty? TWO AND ONE HALF YEARS incarceration, and be allowed orgasm again?"
All Dana heard was they would let her cum. She shouted yes and violently nodded her head up and down. The LCD screen sprayed her with another burst of mist (green this time), then retracted towards the ceiling and took its place against the wall above Dana's head. She couldn't see it, but a red GUILTY filled the screen.
It took about three minutes for the antidote to take effect.
Dana came harder than she ever had before. It was a long, brutal climax, and then she collapsed into unconsciousness just as the garbage truck came to a stop. It was time for the next pickup.
They said the program was racist. How can it be racist? They were robots. Then they said *he* was racist, because he programmed them. Well of course the arrest numbers are going to be skewed, look at the neighborhoods where they get deployed! Look at who commits the crimes! Hank wanted to speak out, to fight back, but the corporate overlords at DynaTech just caved. Issued some oversensitive apology and ran away with their tails between their legs.
And now the system had been sent back to Hank for "reprogramming", along with an admonishment to him about "cultural sensitivity". Every city in the country had placed orders for his system and he gets scolded for it.
Buncha PC crap is what it was. But Hank begrudgingly changed the algorithms to be more "equitable".
--
The Crimestopper 5000 was an automated system for patrol, arrest, and detention of criminal suspects. In the four test cities, the robotic units had been deployed to the worst neighborhoods with the highest crime. In three months, arrests were up over 300% and crime was down 78%. Kids could play outside again. Soon every city wanted one.
The only problem was that the courts couldn't keep up with the number of arrests. Limited numbers of prosecutors and judges meant that jails quickly filled up with criminals awaiting trials. This led to more revolving door policies that put the bad guys back on the streets, often in mere hours.
One of Hank's team discovered the rather controversial solution when he was arrested for drunk driving. To his great distress, Jim Richfield found out that the courts had long treated statements made while under the influence to be 100% admissible in court. His complaints provided the key to the last barrier for nationwide implementation.
**One year later**
Dana Little was coming home from her morning jog. It was 6:47 AM, and she had two blocks to her house. The dew was still on the grass in the quiet suburban neighborhood, but she liked to get an early start on the day. The 32 year old had just enough time to shower and grab a bagel before heading into the office.
She was dressed in a sports bra and jogging shorts. Both clung to her skin tightly, damp with sweat. Dana was proud of her body. Years of regular exercise meant she was toned and fit, but still would have dressed more conservatively except almost nobody was up and about at this time. She preferred a minimalist approach while working out. She didn't even wear socks under her running shoes.
Dana angled across Pinehurst Drive, her shoes softly clapping on the black asphalt of the neighborhood street. With no cars out this early, she lazily drifted to the other side of the road. Her house was down another block and a half to the right. Dana was really looking forward to her hot shower. It had been quite a long run this morning, and she was feeling kind of sweaty and gross.
The young woman had no idea she was being watched. A hundred yards down the street, behind a row of bushes, lurked an observer. A fraction of a second later, it completed an algorithm, and then moved to intercept.
She stepped out of the street and into her driveway when she noticed the humming noise behind her. Dana turned around and stared at the thing in confusion. It was about four feet tall, and looked something like R2-D2 crossed with Rosie from the Jetsons. Somehow the thing balanced on a single rubber wheel. A small set of red and blue flashing lights were on top. Then a synthesized voice straight from the 1980s came out of it.
"Stop. You are in violation of municipal code 21 B, subsection 14-2. Please present identification."
Identification? Municipal code what? Dana didn't know what that was, or what *this* thing was.
"I don't... I don't have any identification. I'm jogging."
Another algorithm computed in a microsecond, and a decision was reached.
"Please place your hands behind your back. You are under arrest."
Dana didn't know what this thing was, but she knew this wasn't good. She certainly wasn't going to put her hands behind her back, or let herself be arrested by some walking trash can. Dana turned towards her house and started to run.
She made it three steps.
The next-gen taser hit her right in the ass. Two little prongs pierced her jogging shorts, and a quick blast of rapidly-cycled electricity froze the woman in place. Unlike older tasers, this version didn't cause the subject to fall. Voluntary muscles simply seized up. Dana's body snapped to attention, legs together, arms at her side. She was rooted to the spot.
Ca-chunk, ca-chunk, ca-chunk. Less than five seconds had gone by before bindings wrapped around her. Ankles, wrists, and neck. They were cold and metallic. Then she felt her body forcibly jerked about. She bent 90 degrees at the waist, and there was another clunk sound.
The electricity stopped a moment later, and that was when Dana lost control of her bladder. She squeezed her eyes shut in humiliation as her shorts soaked through, and pee ran down her legs. The thought ran through her head that the day couldn't possibly get any worse.
The robot observed the accident and cross-checked against the local municipal code. It determined that "public urination" was certainly against the law, and added it to the criminal's growing list of charges. A hatch opened and an arm extended with a small clamp and a micro-cutter. With a quick whirring sound it deftly removed the soaking article of clothing, which it stored for evidence.
"Have a nice day, ma'am. A retrieval unit will be by later in the day to complete your processing."
That was when Dana began to scream. The robot added "disturbing the peace" to the charges, and then directed a burst of devoicing spray down the woman's throat. Then precisely one minute and fifty-six seconds after the unit made first contact with Dana Little, it turned around and rolled down the street, on the lookout for more criminals to arrest.
Since Dana had never given her name to the officer, she was categorized as a Jane Doe. Since her offenses were all misdemeanors in nature and she was considered effectively neutralized, she was given a Class D categorization for pickup priority.
At about 7:30 that morning, Dana's neighbors began their commute. Garage doors up and down the street opened, and cars backed out onto Pinehurst Drive. And as each of them rolled past 12237 Pinehurst, they all slowed down.
Dana Little was standing in her front yard, wearing only a sports bra and a pair of running shoes. She was bent at the waist, legs shoulder width apart, ass facing the street, hairy little pussy on display for all who cared to see.
--
At about 9:15, Debbie McCullough from across the street walked over to make sure Dana was okay. Debbie was in her mid-50s, didn't work, and lived alone. She had divorced her husband and got quite a substantial amount in alimony. Dana suspected the woman was a lesbian.
Debbie walked up behind Dana and slowly inspected her neighbor. The younger woman had a metal band wrapped around each ankle. Some kind of tent spike was driven into the dirt. How deep, Debbie couldn't tell. Dana's wrists were clamped together in front and similarly anchored into the ground. When Debbie walked around to the side, she could see a metal collar wrapped around the woman's neck. A telescoping rod ran down from her neck, connected to her wrists, and then went into the lawn. This arrangement kept her bent right at 90 degrees. She couldn't really bend her legs much, and definitely couldn't squat down. It seemed that Debbie's pretty neighbor didn't really have much choice but to stand there flashing the whole neighborhood.
"Are you alright honey?" Debbie asked. She put her hand on Dana's ass and gave it a squeeze.
Dana shook her head 'no'. She tried to tell Debbie that this must all be a huge misunderstanding. She hadn't done anything wrong, and some stupid robot had violated her. No sound came out of her mouth.
"I heard about these things, you know. Robot cops that arrest people for any ol' thing. I'm sorry they got you honey. From what I hear there are still some bugs to work out." Debbie's hand slid lower down, to where Dana's ass cheek ended and her thigh began. The tips of her fingers brushed against the lips of Dana's pussy.
Debbie spent about fifteen minutes talking to Dana, verbally soothing her while physically running her hands over the bound woman's helpless body. The more she caressed, the more Dana's body started to tremble and twitch. Debbie smiled at the girl's helplessly growing arousal.
When Dana's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and she started bucking her hips backwards (at least as much as her bonds would allow), Debbie pulled her hand away.
"Well I'm sorry this happened to you, sweetie. How utterly humiliated you must feel. I watched all those men in their cars slow down and stare at you. I think a lot of them were taking videos with their phones. You have to be utterly mortified, now that every one of them knows what you little pussy looks like." At the word 'pussy', Debbie ran a finger over it. Dana silently gasped.
"I'll be by later to check on you honey!" And then she went back across the street and inside her house.
Debbie McCullough came by three more times that day, bringing Dana a glass of water with a straw in it. She let Dana drink, and each time she let her fingers explore a little more.
--
The paddywagon came to the house at 1:52 that afternoon. Rather than a typical police vehicle, it looked more like a converted garbage truck. A mechanical arm swung out and connected to Dana's collar. The spikes in the ground retracted out, and Dana was frog-marched over to the rear of the truck. A door opened, a platform lowered, and she was led inside.
--
The slow, methodical dispensation of justice had been the sticking point that held everything up. As fast as the Crimestopper 5000 system could arrest perps, trials and sentencing took almost forever. Hank knew there had to be a way to introduce the efficiencies of automation.
And thanks to Jim Richfield's DUI, Hank and his team found a way. Oh it didn't work for everything. Big crimes still required big trials. But not everything was a robbery or a murder. And now that the Equity Algorithm was in place, the Crimestopper 5000's "accelerated adjudication" system made things a lot easier.
Activists had long complained about the great disparity in punishments for people of different ethnicities. Just that morning a judge downtown had given Mr. Deondre Washington 30 years for a gang shooting over on the east side. That kind of punishment disparity was bad for the city, people might think they were a bunch of racists. But by patrolling lower crime neighborhoods more aggressively, the Crimestopper 5000 could balance the scales, ensure that sentences were more evenly distributed. It had 30 years of sentencing to hand out today, among under-represented demographic groups. Like attractive young women.
In this way, equity would be achieved.
--
Dana's legs and back were sore from holding the same position for several hours. But she really had no choice as the motorized arm on top of the huge truck led her up the ramp and inside. There was a "chunk" sound as she walked in, as the exterior arm handed her off to an interior one. The door closed behind her and suddenly it was pretty dark.
The interior arm pivoted her around, and pulled Dana back against a wall. The backs of her knees hit something and her butt unceremoniously dropped onto a bench. Some kind of magnetic locks kicked in, and her ankles, wrists, and neck were trapped in place.
Dana looked around the room, eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. There were at least six other women in the truck. All of them were attractive white women. Three of them were in business suits. A cute redhead was in a pair of pink panties and a college sweatshirt. An absurdly busty brunette of about 45 was wearing a sheer nightgown and not much else. Huge dark nipples were visible through the material. Then there was a girl barely out of high school, wearing a fast food uniform and thick glasses, who was crying. One of the women in a business suit sat limp in her chair, eyes fluttering. A trickle of drool ran down her chin. Above each of the women was a small LCD screen with name, photo, and the words "GUILTY" glowing in red. Underneath those angry capital letters was info regarding each woman's sentence, but Dana didn't have time to read those.
As the garbage truck/paddywagon started to move forward, Dana heard a mechanical sound above her. Another LCD screen, obviously the one that was perched above her own head, swiveled out and descended in front of her face. Words began to scroll across, and the digitized 1980s computer voice spoke out.
"Jane Doe, you have been arrested for the following charges. Jaywalking. Attempted escape from a police officer. Obstruction of justice (failure to present ID). Public urination. Disturbing the peace." A list of what Dana could only presume were statute numbers appeared beside each crime. "As municipal charges, each carries a maximum punishment of 6 months incarceration and a $500 fine. That is a total exposure of two and one-half years and two thousand five hundred dollars in fines. If you wish to have a criminal trial you will be provided with an attorney. However you may waive criminal trial today and enter a plea of guilty."
Dana struggled to process everything. This was moving too fast. The robotic voice continued.
"If you enter a plea of guilty, the municipal court will offer you..." It paused for a moment as an algorithm ran. "...SIX MONTHS of incarceration at a forced labor camp. Do you wish to plea guilty?"
Six months for jaywalking?!? Dana was outraged. She tried to scream 'fuck you' to the computer, but of course she was devoiced, so no sound came out of her mouth.
The computer could read lips, however. It noted her rejection of the plea offer, and proceeded to the next stage. Officially the treatment was listed as a mood stabilizer, to prevent violent criminals from damaging the equipment. Secretly, Hank Renolds' team called it the "persuasion" stage. Dana felt something jab into her butt cheek, and then coughed as a light pink mist sprayed directly from a tiny nozzle under the LED screen.
The computer waited as the garbage truck/paddywagon got on the highway. The next pickup was on the other side of town, a good twenty five minutes away. There were three more seats inside the truck. It would circle around the city until they were occupied.
Seven minutes later, Dana was feeling very horny.
The arousal she had felt when Debbie McCullough had teased her was nothing compared to this. Whatever had been injected into her was driving her mad. Dana's pussy was soaking and swollen, and her hips thrust back and forth on the bench completely involuntarily. It was instinctual, reactive, animal. She could feel a trail of pussy slime on her thighs as she drooled on the seat and then smeared it around.
The other women looked at Dana with pity. They knew it could only end one way.
The computer spoke to her again. "The municipal court has reassessed your charges. If you wish to enter a plea of guilty now, the court will recommend ONE YEAR of incarceration at a forced labor camp. Do you wish to accept and plea guilty?"
Dana could barely think. One year? Wasn't that more than before? She shook her head no and spit at the camera. The computer noted her rejection of the plea offer.
Another twelve minutes went by. By now, Dana would do absolutely anything to cum. But something was preventing her. No matter what she did, orgasm was always just out of reach. At some point the seat underneath her had begun to vibrate. Dana was desperate. Her body trembled and spasmed. If she hadn't been devoiced, her moans could have been heard by the people in the cars outside.
The computer spoke again. "The municipal court has reassessed your charges. If you wish to enter a plea of guilty now, the court will recommend TWO AND ONE HALF YEARS of incarceration at a forced labor camp. As a reward for accepting responsibility and honesty, you will also be given the antidote to the orgasm blocker administered earlier."
Orgasm blocker? What?
"Do you wish to plea guilty? TWO AND ONE HALF YEARS incarceration, and be allowed orgasm again?"
All Dana heard was they would let her cum. She shouted yes and violently nodded her head up and down. The LCD screen sprayed her with another burst of mist (green this time), then retracted towards the ceiling and took its place against the wall above Dana's head. She couldn't see it, but a red GUILTY filled the screen.
It took about three minutes for the antidote to take effect.
Dana came harder than she ever had before. It was a long, brutal climax, and then she collapsed into unconsciousness just as the garbage truck came to a stop. It was time for the next pickup.
