He was obviously a Man.
He smiled darkly, running his gloved hands along her supple torso, enjoying the flesh. One of his eyes had sealed over, in it's place a lens that focused and unfocused, a frightening probing thing that examined her body, free of his other eye. His boots had clicked against the floor,
"Such nice skin... Hard to find people built like this anymore," he ran a finger over her mons, she tried to shout, only to find herself gagged as well. "You'll make an excellent Template, and excellent template indeed."
Anya's eyes widened, she was precisely were she didn't want to be. In the old days Slavers would sell your body to the highest bidder, but cloners over came that. They could sell your being hundereds and hundereds of times. He spread her pussy lips, staring into her cunt.
"A real valuable piece of work you are! Well only one thing left to do!" His fingers leave her cunt, which had rapidly been moistening. He pulled away from the table, stepping over to the consoles. A few switches, a dial and string of curses later the machines hummed to life. the table holding her sank slightly, a helmet emerging from the steel, two contact digging into her temples, holding her head still, while she felt a needle slide into the back of her neck, she wanted to screech, but the gag all but muffled it. "Oh shut up, it will only -- " he was cut off by the painful bursts of light that flashed in Anya's eyes.
The tech was old, and left her addled in it's wake. It had taken a blueprint of her DNA, her mind, her childhood, her memories, her fears, her person. She awoke in a spartan, but not unclean cell, still nude.
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