A Synthetic Appropriation

A Synthetic Appropriation

 

By Shorngirl

 

         The workload at the office had reached a point where I was almost always there. It seemed like I would spend almost every waking minute working. This was not in my life plan. I was too good for this. They knew that I wouldn’t let things slide, so they simply piled it on. It was almost as if they were waiting to see when I would break.

         I think it was the day when I realized that everyone had gone out for drinks one Friday evening, and never even bothered to tell me they were going. They simply locked up the office behind them, and left me there, alone. I’d had it.

         I thought about simply leaving a note on my supervisor’s desk, but that wouldn’t have been professional. No, I would write a proper notice of resignation and deliver it properly and in person, with an explanation.

         My quitting hadn’t had the devastating results that I presumed it would. The manager just took it in stride, saying that I’d been a hard-working employee and that I should expect a good reference. That was it.

         One my final day, I threw all my things into an empty file box, and walked out, with no fanfare or anything resembling a fare-thee-well. Good riddance, or so I thought.

         A few weeks into my job search, I realized that I really had no desire to do what I had been doing. I had to broaden my horizons, being an intelligent and reasonably attractive young woman, I could do almost anything I set my mind to.

         I went on several interviews, but the one that intrigued me the most was the most bizarre. The company was an up-and-coming venture, creating a new form of artificial skin for AI automatons. Robots, not to put too fine a point on it.

         I’d always read that it was not such a good idea to make them too human, as that freaked people out. As I was guided through the facility, the limb and face moulds were incredibly lifelike. So, when I saw a prototype, I was shocked. It… well, she was naked, and I was quite convinced that this was someone who had simply lost her clothes.

         Her face was perfect, her arms and legs were beautiful, but most surprisingly her breasts and genitals were completely convincing.

         “This is our most recent envelope. Quite convincing, wouldn’t you say, Ms. Woodley?” The director boasted as he reached out and caressed one of the breasts, smiling as he did so. “Feel them for yourself.”

         Not wanting to be put off during an interview, I did as he asked. The ‘skin’ was so lifelike and soft, that I swore it was real. “My goodness. Very impressive.”

         Two days later I was offered the job as plant supervisor. I wasn’t certain what the job entailed, but I was confident that I could handle it. My office was at least twice the size of my last one, not that this was any indication of an improvement in status, but it didn’t hurt to have room to move about.

         I attended several meetings that were geared toward all new employees, then I was separated and given the more detailed training needed to perform my supervisory role. It seemed quite straight forward. Even though I was a bit clueless when it came to the process of making the highly guarded polymer that was used in the process, it didn’t take long before I was brought on side.

         “This is where we join the head moulds with which ever pattern of hair growth is ordered.” The lab tech instructed, showing me how the fibres were individually woven into the polymer with a complex matrix of needles.

         “That looks painful.” I joked.

         The technician looked at me strangely. “I assure you; the sensation modules haven’t been installed at this point. I can’t say the same for the donors.” A slight smirk lifted one corner of her mouth.

         “Donors?” I questioned. “You mean this is real human hair?”

         “One hundred percent, with the entire follicle intact.” She boasted.

         “What happens to the donors… afterward?” I asked.

         “Trust me, they are compensated substantially for their sacrifice.” She reached into one of the many plastic bins that fed a conveyor, pulling out a lustrous mane of blonde hair. “Take a close look.”

         Leaning in, I was shocked to see each hair had a sizeable bulb at the tip. “The donors, are they bald afterwards?”

         “Naturally, but then, it’s a bit of a fad these days anyway, isn’t it?” She mused, placing the hair back into the bin. “I’m told they get used to it after a month or so.”

         “So, all these women, they’re going permanently bald so these robots can have real human hair?” I asked, a bit surprised.

         “Synthetics, Ms. Woodley, we prefer synthetics. Robot is so antiquated a word, don’t you agree?” She almost seemed cross, but quickly smiled. “The wonderful part is the papillary nourishment layer keeps the hair alive and growing.”

         “You mean this ‘envelope’ is alive?” I asked.

         “Not technically, but for things like hair, teeth, saliva and other… lubricants, the synthetic nutrients fed into the envelope keep these functions as lifelike as possible.”

         “Have a look in here.” The technician led me into an adjacent room where a row of synthetic heads were moving along a conveyor of sorts. They hadn’t yet received the blessing of hair, so they were quite bald. “Watch closely now.”

         A machine grabbed the head, and stretched its mouth wide open, almost grotesquely so. Another arm inserted itself into the gaping opening and clamped on firmly inside. A moment or so later, it released and withdrew from the still gaping lips, only to expose a perfect set of teeth.

         The lips slowly went back into shape after the retractors were taken away, but the tech lifted the head away from the conveyor. “Look closely.” She instructed, as she gently pulled the mouth open.

         “They look incredibly real.” I said, even though the artificial gums seemed stretched around the newly inserted teeth.

         “That’s because they are, right down to the roots.” She chortled, proudly.

         “You can’t mean people are…”

         “No, of course not. We can’t get people to donate their healthy teeth, so we grow them from buds. From a few donors we cloned thousands of teeth, incisors, bicuspids, and molars, each perfectly form fit for these synthetics.”

         I looked at the teeth carefully, and there was no doubt that they were real, enamel and all.

         “Every so often we need fresh genetic material, so we advertise for donors. You’d be surprised by the response.” The tech smiled. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work here. You have a good day, Ms. Woodley.” And with that, she left me to find my way back to my office.

         In the training classes they never mentioned just how much of the process was dependant on human donations. It seemed almost too radical an idea, but the company was booming, so it seemed to have worked.

         I was on my way to a board meeting and had a few minutes to spare, so I decided to take a longer route, exploring a part of the facility I hadn’t yet explored. That was when I came upon the hair donation lab. It was larger than I thought it might be, with at least fifty lounge type chairs. To my surprise, almost every chair was full.

         Slipping through the employee entrance, I watched one particular girl from the beginning of the process. A machine slipped over the girl’s shoulder length blonde hair, encapsulating her skull tightly. I could see a clear liquid escaping around the seals as the girl winced slightly. Something had happened inside that metal cap.

         A few seconds later the machine pulled away, taking the girls hair with it. Her bald head was red and looked painfully irritated, but a tech soon joined her. He applied a cream of sorts and her scalp soon returned to a healthy pink. I watched as she reached up and felt her freshly denuded skin for the first time. An almost sad look crossed her face before she pasted on a smile and walked toward the kiosk near the exit.

         As I made my way to my meeting, I couldn’t get my mind off the girl. The process had been quick, lasting less than five minutes, and the result: a pretty young girl, who would be bald for the rest of her life. What were they paying them? It had to be a large sum.

         Several topics were discussed at the meeting, one of which was lowering the compensation paid to women for their hair. Having just watched the process I felt as though I should speak up, but it wasn’t my area, so I stayed mum. They were getting a sizable amount, but enough to pay for being hairless for ever? I didn’t think so, especially if they cut it by the amount they had suggested.

         Most of what I did was automated, so my free time was abundant, even though I was expected to be innovative in my approach. I couldn’t seem to help myself. Something drew me back to the donation lab, and the spectacle of all those girls losing their crowning glory for good. It was strangely arousing.

         I wondered what it felt like, to lay there as that insidious cap came down and stole their tresses. I was told it was painless, just a slight irritation as the follicles were extracted from the scalp. How strange it must be, feeling that nakedness for the first time.

         I had noticed that at least half the chairs were empty in contrast to when I’d first discovered the lab. The powers that be must have lowered the compensation, and this was undoubtedly the result.

         That was when I first saw the small posters in the halls, reaching out to employees to sacrifice their hair for the company. Were they really that desperate? My suspicions were confirmed when I passed by the hair joining lab and found the conveyor lifeless. “What’s going on here?” I asked a tech.

         “I’m afraid we’re out of hair for the day. We’ll get another allotment by tomorrow and things will pick up.” He assured me. Still seeing the plant operations stymied like that made me worry about production, and in turn, my job.

         “Ms. Woodley, we’d like you to set an example for the rest of the female staff.” The president suggested at the next board meeting. “You’ve got a lovely head of hair, and it would encourage others to make the sacrifice.”

         Shocked by the suggestion that I live the rest of my life bald, I tried to push back against the idea. The thing was, part of me, the sexual part, was thrilled by having an excuse; to finally know what all those girls had felt as they reached up and felt their barren scalps for the first time. Of course, the more conservative side of me was in stern rebuttal.

         “We’re prepared to double the compensation Ms. Woodley, but there is a catch.” The president’s assistant added. “If you accept our proposal, you would be expected to remain bald at all times, and I don’t mean only at work. No wigs.”

         “Triple it, and I’ll consider it, Sir.” I said, shaking a little with my boldness.

         There was some discussion, and some heads shaking to the affirm. “Triple then, but we march right down there, Ms. Woodley, all of us.”

         The idea of doing this was frightening enough, but having my hair removed in front of all my colleagues would be humiliating. Still, tripling the compensation was almost too good to pass up. Aside from that, that little demon that resided between my legs was pushing hard.

         “It is for the good of the company.” I sighed, which brought on smiles around the room. “Fine then, I’ll do it.”

         “Right this way, Ms. Woodley.” I heard from behind me as one of the junior executives held open the door. It was intimidating to have all the upper echelons of the firm striding excitedly behind me, but when we reached the donation lab, it was beyond that.

         “Ms. Woodley?” One of the donation techs asked, inquisitively.

         “Yes, Mr. Goddard, Ms. Woodley has agreed to the donation. I think this station will suffice.” The president demanded.

         “Very good, Sir. Are you sure about this Ms. Woodley? Once it starts I can’t…”

         “Just get on with it man. I have a company to run.”

         Nervously, the tech grabbed a brush from the mayo stand and let down my long blonde hair, which was nearly to my waist. “I’ll need to brush it out, Ms. Woodley, to ensure a complete removal.”

         Nodding, I allowed him to do so, depositing the hair clasp on the stand, knowing that I would never need it again. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but at the same time, the butterflies in my stomach were going haywire. I could feel myself getting wet, and that was so not what I wanted just then.

         “If you could just lay down with your head at this end, Ms. Woodley, I’ll start the process.” He seemed very nervous, and we had had many conversations during my frequent visits. I was quite certain he was attracted to me, but I wondered just how that might be affected, afterward.

         I could see the smiles as the predominantly male audience encircled the lounge I laid upon. “This is crazy.” I managed, as my shoulders were strapped into place.

         “This isn’t going to hurt, Ms. Woodley. There will be a slight tug, and a bit of irritation as your follicles are extracted, but… well, you already know all this.” He looked up at the president and then back at me before actuating the equipment.

         I felt the lounge tip back, and the cap slowly slip over my skull, the seals cinching tight around my face. Then I felt it, the liquid. I swear I could smell it, the acrid fluid pressurizing around my head. A dribble escaped around my ears, and then the smell was more than evident.

         I could feel tiny bars sliding along the surface of my skull before there was a slight tug. It was done. Soon the cap would pull back revealing my baldness to everyone. At the same time, I could feel my arousal grow exponentially in anticipation of my humiliation.

         The seal broke, and cap pulled away. I could feel the cool air of the lab against my head as a round of golf claps erupted around me.

         “Well done, Ms. Woodley. Well, gentlemen?” And just like that, I was alone, Mr. Goddard my only companion.

         “Why, Ms. Woodley?” He asked. “Why did you do this?” I could sense he was a little upset. Perhaps he really did fancy me. Probably not now, though.

         “I’m setting an example, William. I was asked, and I accepted. Mind you, they tripled the compensation.” I sighed as he rubbed the soothing lotion onto my naked scalp, and I liked the fact that his were the first hands to caress my baldness. “Is it all gone?” I asked.

         “Like you never had any.” He answered.

         “Am I… well, how do I look?” I pressed.

         “Um, you look, different.” The fact that he hadn’t given me a compliment, made me wonder just how hideous I looked. I reached up, knowing what I was going to feel, but nothing prepared me for the glass smooth surface that met my fingertips. “It’s a nice shape, no lumps or anything.” He added.

         “I guess that’s something.” I thought back on the stipulation that I was to remain bald, my new nakedness on full display to everyone. Sighing, I let my hand fall away, grabbing my purse from the stand.

         I thought about taking the rest of the day off, but that just wasn’t in my work ethic. I did duck into the ladies and took on my new reflection in the row of mirrors that lined the wet wall.

         My scalp was a bright pink, just as so many others I’d seen. My ears were a bit larger than I imagined, but not so big as to draw any attention for them. It did gleam, though. There was no escaping the fact that no hair would ever grow there again.

         I thought about an old man, his hair long gone from the top of his head, reflecting the world like a mirror might. That was me. The fluorescents were plainly visible as white bars in my scalps glassy surface. “I might as well be a light bulb”, I sighed, as my hands involuntarily rubbed over its surface.

         Having never faded, I almost considered finding some pleasure in my private bath but resisted the urge. That could wait ‘til later.

         Each night, I reaped the reward of my sacrifice, my new naked scalp providing hours of pleasure. I’d always been a solitary creature, but now it was as though there was no choice. Any chance of finding a date now was next to nil. Who would want a bald woman pushing thirty, I thought? So, I stayed at home and masturbated.

         At work, my sacrifice was paying off. Slowly, I noticed more and more of the female staff had taken the plunge, sacrificing their locks to the synthetic need. As I saw the cyborgs coming through the finishing process, they were truly magnificent. Beautiful, perfect and intelligent beyond compare. Compared to me, compared to so many women who had made the sacrifice, they were superior.

         So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw the small poster, asking for tooth bud donations. I knew damned well, that as benign as they made the process sound, it amounted to nothing less than a full extraction of all the donor’s teeth. Familiar with the genetic process of cloning the teeth, I knew that their original samples were degrading. They would need new material.

         So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when I was approached at a subsequent board meeting. “Ms. Woodley. Our records indicate that you have perfect teeth, remarkable for someone your age.” The president complimented. “We’d like you to consider an offer.”