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From Me to You Maid with Love

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Natasha, a sleek green mean fighting machine, is just that. A machine. She lands on the roof of a large factory, her glider collapses as she quickly hides it. Her left eye glows a soft red as she scans the area, an oval shaped plate covers her left, her red lights on her arms and upper thighs glow dimer as she brushes her black latex ‘hair’ away from her face, “Another successful landing I might say so myself,” she states to herself with a grin.

She looks over the side of the six-story tall building. Down below she can see anthropomorphic organic raptor guards keeping watch, with two synthetic raptors, one male one female in support as they watch the parameter. The moonlight glows overhead, providing a shadow outline of Natasha’s female form, but she disappears back into the shadows before anyone could even notice her.

“She managed to stand up to Croc and even best him? And this is the best security she could provide? Don’t make me laugh,” she fake laughs as she sauntered over to the rooftop entrance to the factory. Her high heels are for lack of a better word a peculiar design for a machine to move about, and stealthily at that, but she manages. Her thick lizard-like tail of segmented metal flows behind her movements. Wires pop from her silver fingertips and latch onto the lock of the door. Within seconds the red-light changes to green and a soft audible click is heard as the door unlocks.

“Not even worth being called child’s play,” she says as she slips inside. The soft hum of machinery echoes from below as she moves to a large catwalk. Down below, automotive machinery weld and place pieces of green, red, and black metal are visible for brief moments as they are picked up from the side and combined under a conveyor belt whose roof blocks Natasha’s view of any details of what is happening.

“Croc put in a special order from her nemesis. What could that bucket of bolts want from this dolt?” Natasha wandered as she walks further down the catwalk as she gets a look at stockpiles of rubber. Some prefabricated clothing, others are vats of it as a soft hiss can be heard from down below.

“Ten thousand units but of what?” Natasha mutters as she scans the factory floor. There are no guards, no workers that she can see. Moving further down a noise catches her attention, the whistle of an object breaking the sound barrier as a small silver disk slams into her shoulder and a burst of electricity courses through her systems, her vision goes partially static. Before she could react a second hits her, Natasha lets out scream of annoyance as she traces where the shots came from.

Her red eye glows brightly as she zooms in to see a set of piercing yellow eyes before they disappear into the shadows. Natasha reorientates herself, as her vision clears, she sprints down the catwalk, “I will make you pay for that,” she states as she makes her way over to the area.

Halfway there a sudden force kicks her on the side, a brown scaled raptor in full military uniform, a rifle as long as herself strapped to her back, the soles of her feet covered in rubber shock absorbers as she knocks Natasha off the catwalk and down to the factory floor below.

“I’m sorry what was that? You said you’d make me pay for that?” says the raptor, named Sasha. Her yellow eyes trace Natasha’s fall and just as she hits the ground with a heavy thud, she not only pulled out her large and seemingly unwieldy rifle out from her back but fires a single shot at her, another one of the silver disks latches onto her shocking her body and causes her vision to sizzle for a few brief moments.

When Natasha’s vision clears, she leaps from her back to her feet and looks up to see the raptor was gone, “Where did that organic go?” she grunts.

“Over here princess,” says Sasha as she hits Natasha in the back of the head with the butt of her rifle. Natasha grunts as she swings her claws out at Sasha who grabs and flips Natasha onto her back with a heavy metallic thud.

Natasha’s eye glows brightly, red anger flows through her as Sasha gives a toothy raptor grin down at her, “Don’t feel so bad, I can beat Crisis in a hand to hand and she has them electro-blades,” she says as she pulls out her pistol and fires a single shot. A fourth silver disk attaches to Natasha, right in her forehead and gives her the most serious shock yet. Her vision goes completely static as all senses become numb.

“I will show you what a machine can do!” yells Natasha as she finds herself standing in a long open hallway, she looks around only to find that her head is able to move, and as her version becomes clear she realizes it is not a hallway but a long conveyor belt with all those same machine construction arms waiting eagerly to do their automation when the black rubber belt gets going.

“W-what happened? Why can’t I move my body!” exclaims Natasha as a soft chuckle echoes out and into her ears.

“If you can’t figure that out, then I don’t even know if your base chassis is enough to be upgraded properly for your soon-to-be-Master Croc,” says Crisis as she steps out from the shadows. The sleek green and blue anthropomorphic female robotic raptor smirks as Natasha remains utterly immobilized. Wires attach to the back of her head and neck as her limbs remain limp and steady, clamps to her ankles, waist and neck help keep her locked into place.

Natasha’s red eye glows, “Crisis, what are you planning to do?”

“Me? Fulfill my order, as you are the last of the 10,000 Crisis maids Croc ordered from me.”

Her red glowing eye goes wide upon hearing the news, “What?”

Sasha did you damage her audio sensors when you spared with her?” asks Crisis as she looks over to the side as the brown scaled raptor shakes her head.

“No Mistress. I only disabled her like you requested.”

“Any damage done can be repaired, so it should be fine.”

“What is this talk about Crisis maids?” asks Natasha as she tries to move in vain.

“It is what it sounds like. You see once I got to where I was, Croc and I are in name nemesis but also dear friends. Frienemies as you could put it. To fulfill that ego of his, and to let me focus on my own set of worlds, he asked for ten thousand female raptor maids to serve him in various forms, all based off of my chassis, and given specialized program to gain my, delightful personality. You know, fight Croc, beat him, subdue him, hack him, along with things he’d desire, serve, clean, obey, polish, good hypno machines. That whole thing. It’s rather wonderful, a delightful though even if it is sort of ME being in the position, but was that or have him bother me as I handle something over here, and honestly, I can’t have that happen now can’t I? Ten thousand Crisis clones, each with their own special naming of Crisis, just to drive him a little nuts,” Crisis smirks.

“How did you know I was coming?”

“A little Croccy bird told me. Not that I needed it, you made it so dreadfully obvious I feared it was a trap of some sort. No matter, we’ll perfect you in no time, enjoy the ride, I am sure it will all be made clear for you soon. Just watch the nice screen and all your questions will be answered,” says Crisis as she flicks a wrist and the conveyor belt humps to life, Natasha’s body jerks forward as it begins to move.

“No, wait. We could work together! We both want to fight Croc, I can help you!”

“Oh, but you are Natasha, you are helping me,” Crisis smirks as Natasha moves past her. Bright lights shine overhead, the white light blinds Natasha’s vision of the world outside of the conveyor belt.

Soft white noise plays around her ears as she feels a force override her motor functions in her eyes as a video screen moves down in front of her and moves along with her as she moves forward.

“Hello! Welcome! Salutations! Guten Tag! To the Crisis-Maid conversion process. We know there are many ways you could be converted into a Crisis-Maid, and we appreciate that you have chosen our conveyor belt processing system as your method of conversion,” says a rather happy-go-lucky chibi Crisis in a skimpy maid outfit on the screen. “Remember, everything will be fine. This is what you wanted after all. It is what you wanted.”

Natasha grunts, “What I wanted? No, get me out of this thing!” she yells to the screen.

“We are first going to scan over your systems and see what your current compatibility state is to become a wonderful Crisis-maid. And don’t worry about those pesky firewalls. Those silver disks we had you put on disabled all those for you! As well as any counter measures your automated systems might have had to counter the Crisis-maid processing process. Isn’t that wonderful!”

Natasha sarcastically remarks, “Yeah wonderful.” Natasha feels a slight tingle in the back of her mind as she says the words said by the screen. The words are there, Crisis is there, but it’s hazy… clear? Hazy? Clear, hazzy, swirly? It’s hard to tell, it makes Natasha want to focus more on the screen so she could at least see clearly.

A soft blue light moves over Natasha’s body as she also feels a surge of energy in the back of her head as the connections already in place there ramp up their connection. Natasha lets out a soft moan as her eye grows wide.

She felt her systems methodically scanned, inside and out, as she saw a number display on the screen, “Only 23.21% compatibility with being a Crisis-maid. Don’t worry we can make you all better. Make you perfect,” the chibi Crisis sings.

Natasha stares into the screen, the words echoing into her head as she tries to resist but softly, she says, “Make me better. Make me perfect.”

“That’s right!” the Chibi-Crisis replies as Natasha feels a spark of energy in the back of her mind reinforcing these ‘positive’ thoughts.

The conveyor belt chugs Natasha along as arch metal cutters move onto her. They mercilessly slice through her outer metallic skin. An act that would normal register a form of not so much pain but a warning that damage was being done to her systems, and for a brief moment she got this warning.

“N-no…” Natasha moans out till she feels a spark, energy rushes through her, overriding her own system’s reports, placing them with positive energy, thoughts.

“We are now removing the dirty exterior. None of it is needed. But fear not, it is sure to get recycled and put to better use.”

Natasha tries to look away, she tries to resist, as she feels the numb sensation of her segments of metal body cut clean through. Each section of body plates is tugged and pulled, wires that connect to the back of the plates are simply cut, the glowing red lights on her arms and thighs blink out completely as she feels a compulsion. The chibi-Crisis standing there, drawing her unwavering gaze as the front face cover is removed, revealing her other fully functioning eye, doubling the effectiveness of her focus on the screen.

“You don’t need that outer shell, do you?”

Natasha feels another section removed, her high heeled boots removed completely as the inner workings of her body is exposed, wires, circuits, the metal skeletal structure that further supports her body, a completely intertwining mess revealed to the world as the chibi-Crisis voice continues to echo into Natasha’s mind but as the section where her rubber hair and head are sliced away, Natasha feels an airy feel to her processing power.

“It is better that it is removed, isn’t it? As a Crisis-maid you won’t need that old skin. It was not fitting for you.”

“Y-yes… not fitting for me,” Natasha responds as the front face panel is removed. Each and every part of her green and black outer shell, rubber and metal is cut and gently removed. The pieces taken away by other automated mindless machines.

“That’s right! A Crisis-maid needs a Crisis-maid chassis, but first we will need to update some of your hardware to be up to code, and compatible with other Crisis-maid models and Croc’s systems. But don’t worry, everything will be perfectly fine.”

Natasha near-mindlessly replies as a surge of energy goes through her, “Everything will be fine.”

As her exposed wire self stands there, her body is held aloft by the same clamps. Claws, and bolt cutters move in and cut through Natasha’s ankles, the metal pieces clunking to the conveyor belt before quickly whisked away. The wires connected to Natasha’s head are plucked away as those connection points are cut through, other wires are moved from the direct back of Natasha’s head, revealing the pulsating computer processing core, while a fourth set moves over to Natasha’s transmitting device and it is simply removed with a hiss and a click of hydraulic pressure.

As the back wires disconnect from Natasha’s head her body whirs softly, her eyes flicker as she looks away from the screen, “Huh? Wha? W-what are you doing? Release me!” she cries out.

“You are incomplete. We are here to perfect you. A perfect example of Crisis, for your new overlord and Master, Chaos Croc,” states the Chibi-Crisis with a giggle on the screen.

Natasha’s eyes narrow, “I don’t want to be Master Croc’s Crisis-maid!” she exclaims as she stops at the end of her statement.

“Did I just say…” she mutters to herself as new metal skeletal feet are connected to her ankles, ones that support the raptoric sickle claw. Cut wires are re-attached to the new feet the new sensation enters Natasha’s mind as it feels weird, and foreign.

“When I get out of this…” Natasha grunts.

“You will serve Master Chaos Croc.”

“I will do no such thiiiinnnnggggggg” Natasha twitches as she feels new items attached to the back of her head. A new direct access port right, the connectors that were cut, replaced with a new uniliteral micro connection ports, and a Croc built and certified Chaos Croc-Crisis sub model transmitter and receiver, for optimal connection between other Crisis-maid models and Chaos Croc’s mind controlling robotic intra-network. All of this information displayed in front of Natasha on the screen that remains glued to her field of vision. The Chibi-Crisis holding a teacher’s learning stick as she points to each new upgrade as they are attached to her.

“I need to resist. I will set up a special partition in my mind to protect myself from this foreign corruption,” Natasha thinks as the new connection ports are quickly used as they latch into the back of her head. Pleasure and energy surge through her body her body twitching as her eyes flicker, vision becoming static for a moment as she sees the words, “Obey” in the static.

“I need to remain in perfect condition for Lord Master Chaos Croc,” she thinks before stopping her train of thought, “Wait what?!”

Her eyes once again forced to look at the screen, “All necessary backups of your system have been maid,” says the Chibi-Crisis, the pun on the word “made” purposely bolded as she sees the next step on the screen, “Converting core program to Crisis-Maid” And right below it, “Building Crisis-Maid Chassis.”

Natasha moves forward further still, new automated hands, reminiscent to what one would see at an automotive factory move through the blinding white light sides, like disembodied synthetic hands and arms, bringing forth green and red metal pieces. The first wrap around Natasha’s feet, high heeled sickle clawed feet, reminiscent to the high heels she had before, her sickle claw sharp looking but completely blunted, useless, as the new shell covering is welded into place. Wires attached to the inside, making the inner and outer sections become one before they are welded permanently into place.

New sections are added moving steadily upwards along Natasha’s body as she feels a surge of data flood into her mind, “Reducing dominance desires by 50%.... 75%....” lower and lower the desire gets within Natasha’s mind, while at the same time another number increases, “Increasing subservient protective desire of Chaos Croc, 1,000% 20,000% 160,000%”

Natasha feels her thoughts shift and turn as she looks into the screen, “Listening to me will make you perfect to Lord Chaos Croc. You will be a good maid for him. He will protect you.”

The words flow into Natasha, echoing into her mind, ringing true with a soft whisper but growing louder, and louder, booming into her mind, drowning out all other thoughts of protest, all other thoughts that might question this line of thinking. Images flood her mind of servicing Croc, dusting his throne room, sitting in his lap, feeling his hard-metallic hand smacking his ass. Memories, her memories of times Croc had the upper hand on her. One’s she lamented and despised now shown in a different light.

“It… was nice wasn’t it? I knew what to do. My needs taken care of. A very carefree life. A wonderful life. And Master Croc was there to protect me. And I, protect him. From harm. From dust, from anything that would ruin that wonderful polishing that I worked so hard on his sexy supreme overlord body,” Natasha thinks as her eyes flutter, yet the focus on the screen does not break.

“Good Crisis-maid. You serve Chaos Croc. You are his maid. You do what he wants. You are a subdued Crisis. A former nemesis. You plot against him, but you know you won’t win. But you like to give him that excitement. That pleasure of the hunt. Perhaps you will rebell sometime just to give him the joy of recapturing you for his own pleasure,” the chibi-Crisis explains with a mindless almost-bimbo-like giggle.

Natasha twitches, “Y-y… but I am… Natasha,” she replies as the smooth crotch plate latches onto Natasha’s body. More of the Crisis shell added onto her, the Crisis belt built right into her waist but already with Croc’s red diamond symbol built into it. Sleek and strong metal chest plate with a nice round segmented metal bust, her tail thicker, stronger, wider, with a sleek supple green metal ass.

“You are Crisis. You volunteered to be Crisis. All you will ever be and have been is Crisis.”

Natasha struggles slightly as she feels upload of data into her mind, along with a Crisis.exe installing into her, the exe executes as all references of Natasha begin to be subtly replaced by Crisis. All experiences that Crisis deemed able to give, and to give the history necessary to be Crisis begin to flood and overrun Natasha’s fragile mind.

A permanently disabled version of Crisis’ wrist blades installs onto Natasha’s arm, as two pieces that make up Crisis’ sleek robotic raptor head converge onto Natasha’s head. This brief moment breaks the wire connection attached to her head, but at this moment it’s not even a blimp on her radar.

Natasha’s new sleek raptoric Crisis chassis is complete. Sparks fly as the last parts are welded shut, the back-access panel pulled away to allow the connection to resume as a red gem with 3 green metal feathers is installed into the center of Natasha’s forehead. In the crystal pulsates an energy that whispers subroutines into Natasha’s mind.

“I Serve Lord Master Chaos Croc.”

“Chaos Croc is wonderful.”

“Chaos Croc is so handsome.”

“I obey Chaos Croc.”

“I am his maid.”

“I am Crisis. I lost to Croc now serve him.”

“I am not a clever girl. Otherwise Croc would have not beaten me so easily.”

Other such phrases repeat in the silent depths within Natasha’s mind, merging with her own natural forming thoughts, becoming indiscernible from them as she soon feels them to be a core truth in her very construction.

“Updating Designation, Qrisis.”

Natasha feels the last strands of connection of her former synthetic self-disappear into the ether, her red eyes glowed happily as she thinks, “Designation accepted.”

Qrisis stares up at the screen with a near mindless look, bimbo like as she was informed of all the duties she’d perform as a maid, and what is expected of her, while this is done though, a long rubber tail stocking, black with white frills toward the base slip along the back of her tail. Maid gloves, and leggings are slipped and painted onto her body, becoming one with her sleek metal frame. Black with white frills along her ankles, a short rubber maid ‘dress’ around her whips, with a lovely heart with Croc’s symbol in the center. The rest of the dress is tight around her chest, revealing her slender raptor figure.

A frilly maid collar is around her neck, as her outfit falls into place. The polished rubber shines in the light as the last of the data needed is transferred into Qrisis’ mind. Her puffy lips smile as an unexpected addition is put onto her. Natasha’s black rubber hair is placed over her head not moments after the wires are pulled out from the back of her head, the disconnection causes Qrisis to moan out ever so softly.

As she is reunited with the hair of her past life, her internal systems boot up, “Connecting to Chaos Croc Maid Network 01,” her systems report as the new transmitter comes online, she connects to the other 9,999 Crisis maid variants. They welcome her into the fold, reinforcing every bit of programming already given to her. The last piece, a maid headdress is placed onto her head, which attaches itself to Qrisis’ long flowing black latex hair. The clamps around her body are removed as Crisis prime gives one simple order.

“Report to storage pod 10,000.”

“Yes Mistress,” Qrisis responds with a salute before walking off of the rubber conveyor belt, the bright lights fade as she is revealed to be on the other side of the factory now. She walks on her high heels her rear sways side to side with elegance and a hint of slutry desires, as she heads to the sleek rubber interior of her storage pod. On the side of it, says in red lettering on the black background, “Crisis-Maid # 10,000”

Qrisis steps inside the pod closing around her as the rubber inflates, locking her into place. The other Crisis models speak to her, some are bubblier, others are more defiant, slight subtle variation of Crisis that Chaos Croc could ever desire and want. She like the others are shipped directly to Crisis’ not so humble abode, a massive tower, with thousands of rooms, and dozens of floors. Croc would be there, Qrisis could sense it.

“Connecting to Chaos Croc Network.” states her internal systems as the time to opening draws near.

“Connection established. Uploading Croc obedience protocols,” states her internal network, as there was no way to refuse. Croc had complete access to her programing. A surge of pleasure and obedience higher than before fill Qrisis’ mind.

“Master Chaos Croc is so smart. He leaves nothing to chance. I am so glad I am serving him,” she thinks dreamily as any possible hint of Crisis’ prime setting up a trap for him are not just removed but placed under 101 different redundancy layers of programmed obedience, and viral checks, to ensure a 100% obedience, and loyalty guaranteed to Croc himself. Along with a fawning desire over him, jealous wanting desire to spend time with him, and no less than 185,210 different minor subroutines on to put processing power on “How to best please and compliment the glorious Master Overload Chaos Croc.”

When her pod finally opens Chaos Croc stands there, the sleek green metal robotic lizard with his glowing red eyes, and domineering stance, he smirks as Qrisis feels a rush of pleasure run down her spine.

“Oh, my Lord Chaos Croc. He is smiling at me! How lucky could I be!” she thinks.

“So, my dear Natasha… or should I say Qrisis. How do you feel about your new position as my maid and footstool?”

Qrisis stands there, unable to say anything. One moment passes, two moments passes, three.

Croc gives a slightly concerned look when Qrisis suddenly responds.

“I didn’t know I get to be your footstool! What a wonderful day this is!”

Croc chuckles, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you first need to clean my throne room, my strategic center. My fifty-eight guest bedrooms, the dance floor, which you will dance for my amusement afterwards, and if you are good after that, you can be my footstool.”

Qrisis salutes,” With pleasure!” she trills happily as she steps out.

“Where can I begin?”

“How about my throne room and shake that rear when you do it.”

“Yes sir, Lord Master Croc Sir!” Qrisis cheerfully says as she sauntered past him, Croc gives her a firm smack on the ass as she does so, the rubber squeaks slightly as Qrisis hikes her rump and moans softly, “Oh thank you Master. May I have another?” she asks needlingly.

“In time, if you earn it. Now go,” he commands.

“With pleasure!” she trills as she rushes off.

Croc chuckles, “I’ll have to remember how these Crisis’ do, for when I get the real deal. I will enjoy making her into each of these versions… at least for a little while,” he chuckles as he walks off.