Author Topic: The Product Tester  (Read 1983 times)

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April 22, 2017, 02:59:58 PM

Offline SoftGameHunter

The Product Tester
(M+/f, extreme bond, torture, captivity, reluc, romance, sci-fi)

Cynthia got the call at three in the morning. It was on her work phone, so she picked it up. “Cynthia here,” she said, still half asleep.

“Report to work.”

“Can it wait until morning?”

“Report to work now, Cynthia.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied sleepily. There wasn’t much use in complaining. Her salary paid her great for just a couple days work per week on average. And, unlike the vast majority of the female population would have, she enjoyed the work. Her own description of her job and lifestyle was that her body was playground equipment and she was happy to let the boys play rough on it. Years of psychotherapy had convinced her only that she was just different, very different, and she should enjoy the attention her tastes gave her. She only wished she didn’t get calls in the middle of the night.

Her grogginess was gone after a brief shower. She put on a pair of shoes and a long coat. Anything more would have been pointless. She headed down to the parking garage, got in her Porsche, and was on the road within twelve minutes of getting the call. Ten minutes later she pulled into another parking garage, accessible with her card, and parked close to the building entrance. From there it was a short walk into the company testing area.

“I’m here,” she announced to the waiting staff. There were fifteen people there, nine men and six women. She took her coat and shoes off, leaving herself naked. “Alright, time to work me over.”

“Not yet,” Bernard said, coming over to her with a form. “This one’s a special job.”

“What’s the deal, then?” she asked, glancing at it. “This is all boilerplate. Are you telling me what will happen to me?”

“No, we need a fresh psych report when you’re done.”

She looked closer at the form. “Double hazard and triple overtime?” she asked. “No distress pay?”

“This one shouldn’t hurt much. If it does, you’ve got the double hazard time.”

Now Cynthia paused. She’d never worked at double hazard rates. Once she’d tried triple hazard, only to end up comatose for a week and hospitalized for three, but she’d been paid for every hour of it, resulting in her 911 parked outside. The rate they were offering her was a hundred fifteen per hour for at least twenty four hours. She finally signed at the bottom.

“Can you tell me how long this will be?” she asked.

“No. But we’re planning a minimum of thirty hours,” Bernard told her. “It could go longer.”

“Let’s get started then,” she said. “Should I meditate? Get into my victim zone?”

“No, you’ll have time to adjust.”

“Okay. Let’s do it to me, boys.”

Several of the techs, all of whom she knew well, guided her to a research wing she hadn’t been in before. “Nervous?” Ben asked her.

“Always. This isn’t flipping burgers, you know.”

“Cool. Okay, when we put you inside, please do try to struggle. We need to measure the effect. Once you’re set, you can stop.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You will. Don’t worry.” They entered a door with a coded lock and Cynthia saw beyond it a large lab environment. Two of the techs held her arms and guided her towards the feature attraction that immediately made her heart race. It looked like they were going to boil her alive.

“Struggle now,” Ben told her as two more techs grabbed her feet. Obligingly and with real fear growing, Cynthia did her best to pull free from them. In the middle of the room was what looked like a rectangular shallow glass vat, the water boiling rapidly in a churning, angry foam. The vat was perhaps three feet deep by eight feet by eight feet square.

“Hey, wait a minute!” she protested loudly. “This is crazy! You’ll kill me!”

“You don’t have to verbalize,” Ben told her. “Just struggle.” Nonetheless, Cynthia was screaming as the men, holding her each by an arm or a leg so she was spread eagled and hanging face up over the vat, began to lower her down in it.

“Try to face forward and keep your eyes open during the process!” Ben shouted to her over her own screams. She desperately tried to pull free, even though breaking loose would have sent her falling into the boiling vat. She let out a single, long screech as her ass touched the liquid before pausing. It was hot, certainly, but no more than a hot shower. She remembered her instructions and continued struggling as they lowered her into the hot fluid. It couldn’t be water, she realized. A moment of panic hit her before her mouth and nose went under, but she remembered that she was working with professionals. When she could hold her breath no longer she exhaled and sucked in a lungful of fluid. At first she bucked and writhed, but in moments realized she was getting oxygen. She could actually breath the stuff.

She still struggled but looked around. Something else was different. She could see through the stuff. It wasn’t like water, blurring her vision. She could see herself and outside with almost no distortion.

At her sides the techs were busy putting metals cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She saw that there were chains attached to the corners of the glass vat. Once they had her secure, they pulled their own arms and hands out of the fluid. She felt the chains tightening, pulling her into a strict spread eagle. She could breath the fluid and see clearly. It felt like the fluid was getting into her everywhere.  It seemed to be seeping into her cunt and even up her ass. It filled her nose and mouth and throat and got into her ears. It was the creepiest feeling she could remember feeling for a long time.

Her attention was drawn to Bernard, standing over her. He was holding a large poster board. It had large lettering on it. “Face forward look forward eyes open” it read. Cynthia obliged. Now she relaxed. Whatever they were going to do, it wasn’t like anything they’d tested on her before.

Before too long she realized that the fluid was cooling off. What little motions she made were becoming more difficult as the fluid thickened. When it was a thick paste she felt the region around her wrists and ankles warm up and soften. She felt the cuffs coming off her body, but her arms and legs were so thickly encased in the fluid that she could do no more than wiggle her fingers and toes, and only for a short time before the fluid set again.

It dawned on Cynthia that she was going to soon be completely encased, buried alive essentially. It was actually a fantasy she’d never been able to explore. For probably more than a full day she would be utterly immobile, stark naked, and exposed to men. Her pussy tingled, but with her arms spread out she couldn’t act on it much. This was going to be the best three grand she’d ever earned.

She didn’t realize until the cooling was completed how encased she was. She couldn’t move any part of her body at all. Her lungs received oxygen from the now hardened material that filled her airway. She didn’t even have to breath. She couldn’t blink, but her eyes remained moistened and after some moment of panic she calmed down about that one. The material form fitted itself over her so well that she couldn’t even move her eyeballs. She could change her depth of focus, but that was absolutely all. She was utterly frozen in place.

Now the lab techs, whom she could only see peripherally, set about lifting up the slab so she was standing upright. She couldn’t see how they pulled her out, but they removed the slab containing her body from the glass vat and set it down. They didn’t seem to have too much trouble handling it. She guessed it didn’t weigh a lot. Suddenly she was moving again. They were wheeling her into a different room. It was also a lab, but without the heating equipment. They set her down, but still upright. She could still see the world, at least what was directly in front of her.

Bernard stepped into her vision and waved. She couldn’t even blink back at him. He took a penlight and shone it into her eyes. Probably he was checking her pupil dilation, she guessed. She wondered, if something happened to her would they even know it? If she dropped dead of a stroke would they not realize it until releasing her? It was a scary but exhilarating thought. She was a statue.

The techs milled around her for a time. Their terminals were all out of her sight. She could only really see the wall unless someone moved in front of her. She wished they would stop and look at her. She was enough of an exhibitionist to enjoy that. But they were paying, so they made the rules.

Finally, an hour or so later, some of them wheeled a large, full length wide mirror in front of her. Cynthia got to see herself at last. It was bizarre. It was her own reflection, but it may as well have been a photograph. She couldn’t see her pupils from that distance, so she was essentially staring at a mannequin of herself, spread wide and lifelike, but appearing lifeless. The only thing off was that her breasts, rather than hanging down, were looking flattened and pulled to the side, no doubt what they’d been when she was lying down and being frozen. Apparently the fluid wasn’t very buoyant. It was like looking up at a ceiling mounted mirror in that respect.

Bernard stepped in front of her holding a poster board. “Keep track of your emotions” it read. She found the suggestion annoying. She’d been doing nothing but pondering her emotions. Did he forget she was a professional? Shortly after that they wheeled her into another room. It was pretty much empty. They slid her off the hand truck and left her alone. She could see a clock in her peripheral vision, but couldn’t make out the exact time. She could kind of see the big hand, though. She could pay attention to the passage of time. She wondered why they were leaving her. But then, she was paid for them to do unpleasant things to her. Boredom wasn’t usually one of those things, but it looked like they were starting with it now.

She waited, and waited. Hour after hour passed, and still Cynthia remained immobilized. She wasn’t even tired, but she wondered if she could sleep in the stuff. Could she sleep without closing her eyes?

Eventually, after at least five hours, some techs came for her. Cynthia was startled to realize she didn’t know more than one of them. They wheeled her out and to yet another laboratory. Again they were kind enough to place her facing a mirror wall, so she could somewhat see what was going on around her. She felt rather self-conscious around so many strangers, which was simultaneously a good and a bad thing. They seemed to be attaching probes or wires or something to the corners and edges of her slab. Unable to move even her eyes, it was hard to tell what. She wasn’t aligned exactly with the wall, so instead of seeing her own face, her vision was centered about a foot away from her face. Nothing interesting was happening exactly where she could focus.

At one point a tech stood in front of her. He shined a very bright light into her eyes, brilliant enough to make her want to wince and turn away. Of course she couldn’t even close her eyes. She briefly panicked, but within seconds the slab darkened in front of her face, much like darkening glasses did but faster and darker. The man turned the light off and the slab cleared up within seconds.

Besides the sexual and physical distress she was subjected to, Cynthia was amazed at the technology. She could see no airways, yet she was getting air. She hadn’t felt the need to piss since she was encased, nor had she felt thirst. Despite her planned stay of a day or so, she wondered with some trepidation how long a person could last inside the stuff. Would they expect her to find out?

The work around her lasted for many more hours. No one seemed to pay her any direct attention. No one showed her any more poster boards to read. No sound reached her in her encasement. She couldn’t really feel anything, being unable to move to notice the texture of the material. She couldn’t taste or smell it. If they put her in a dark room, she would experience no sensory input whatsoever.

Ultimately, after they had spent what seemed like the whole day with her, testing the slab she assumed, they again wheeled her out of the room. She wondered where she would be going next. She soon found out, and was shocked to discover that she was not alone as an encased girl. They took her to a larger room, and as they wheeled her into place she saw that a dozen or so other girls were locked in slabs just like her own. As they swung her into place by the wall, she caught a look at some of them. A few, like her, were calm. Which meant, of course, they had been calm at the moment of freezing. Others were less calm. In some cases, less calm was putting it mildly. Cynthia only occasionally worked with other girls, but on those occasions she knew the looks of pain and terror. Some girls looked like they had been out of their minds with terror at the moment of freezing. They, Cynthia assumed, were not professionals.

What were they feeling now, she wondered. Were they still scared? Were the calm ones still calm? Cynthia herself was mostly calm, but a growing feeling of ill ease was in her head. She had been encased and immobile for a long time. She was growing sleepy, so she guessed it had been all day, and that after very little sleep. Now she found herself staring almost exactly into the eyes of a girl across the room. Though not exactly terrorized, the girl had clearly been distressed. Now her face was frozen in that look, and it was unsettling. Cynthia hoped the experiment would end soon enough. She’d be a few thousand dollars richer and no harm would be done.

With no clock and no moving people, she didn’t know how time was passing. The lights were dim, but it wasn’t really dark. Cynthia wanted to sleep, but was finding it hard. She really wanted to close her eyes. Her fatigue grew, but sleep was hard to find. She didn’t know for sure if she would or could sleep, but in the hours that passed she had the exact image in front of her to keep her company. Only when she realized with a start that the room was brighter and several men were looking at her did she guess that eventually she had slept. It had not been restful, though probably it had just been too short.

They wheeled her back to the lab from the previous day and again hooked wires up to the slab. She was staring at herself and trying to follow the action in the room. When the men stood back from her all at once, she guessed something was about to happen.

Without warning, she suddenly felt a stinging sensation all over her lower body. It petered off as it reached her breasts, but in seconds it went from a mild prickly sensation to feeling like a thousand bees had stung her below her waist. She stressed her vocal cords, but they were frozen solid in the material. She needed to scream. It was incredibly painful, agonizing. Then it faded. A minute later, for the first time in a while, someone stood with a poster board in front of her. “Oops sorry” it read.

Twenty minutes later another stinging sensation covered all the skin on her body. She panicked, screaming without sound, but the pain was less than before. It was still bad, though, and lasted a couple minutes before relief came.

Cynthia tried to recover her wits. She was a professional, and usually felt more pain than this in her job. Being encased, though, made her fear spike upwards. She was accustomed to not being able to duck or dodge or even slide a few inches away from pain. Not being able to even flinch, though, seemed to make it ten times worse. She was a professional.

Several more times they subjected her body to a full-coverage burst of pain. The worst, it soon turned out, was the last. The stinging didn’t stop with her skin, but went up her cunt and ass, down both tubes in her neck, and even into her eyes. That was the worst. Twenty eternal seconds later it came to a sudden stop. When she could pay attention again, she felt like crying in relief that the techs seemed to be disconnecting wires. Maybe it was over soon.

Her wishes seemed to be granted. The next room they wheeled her into was the original, with the heating apparatus and the glass casing. Indeed, they slid the slab back into the casing and laid her down flat. Then nothing seemed to happen for a while. Staring at the ceiling, she saw no motion and no activity. In time she felt some mild warmth, but it passed. She felt a burst of nervous anger when she realized that the heater was probably busted. How long would it take to repair or replace it? Not long, she guessed. It was always a well-stocked business and they were professionals. They lifted her back up and pulled her slab from the casing.

Bernard was again in front of her soon, and Cynthia felt a knot forming in her belly at the look on his face. He held up a poster board, which she nervously read.

“There is a problem. We’ve seen it before. This might take a while. You’re still on the clock, no matter how long this takes.”

Cynthia felt the knot getting bigger. They couldn’t get her out, and it might be more serious than a busted heater. She felt her body trying to shiver, though nothing happened externally. She couldn’t express herself. She couldn’t ask them anything. She couldn’t even blink Morse code to them. She was as helpless as a human being could be.

They left her standing in the room for hours. People passed in front of her. Some tried to smile, in comfort, she realized, rather than in the taunting, mocking way she sometimes experienced when she was naked and restrained. What she wouldn’t give for leather straps and a cruel whip at that moment. It would have been infinitely preferable to the fear she was feeling. She was trapped in the worst bondage imaginable, and they obviously couldn’t get her out.

In time they put her back into the casing and laid her down again. Like before, time passed and nothing happened aside from some mild warmth. Cynthia could picture the heaters blasting under her, and the slab of material retaining its solid form, dissipating the heat away from her body, refusing to melt. Rather than lift her out, they kept her lying on her back for hours more. Only the periodic warmth let her know they were trying to cycle through the process and failing.

In time, long slow time, they pulled her out and wheeled her again to the room with the other slab girls. She had a moment to ponder the question of whether they had even been moved since last night. She wasn’t in the same position, though, and she instead was staring near another girl. Her peripheral vision didn’t tell her which of the other girls was which. Were they the same girls? A different batch? Were they trapped too!?

Sleep came faster, but was far more fitful and Cynthia was aware of how much she was falling asleep and waking up. A tech had put a poster board in front of her before leaving. All it said was “Hang in there,” a useless suggestion if ever there was one.

The next day was one of full fledged panic of Cynthia as they immediately tried and failed to free her. Hour after hour passed. She did not leave the room. More time passed as two full shifts of lab techs worked on her. She was desperate to scream as they wheeled her into the sleep room again at the end of the day.

Another day of failures came and went.

The day after that, rather than taking her to the warming room, as she was calling it in her mind, they brought her back to the main lab where they had done tests. She watched in horror as they attached more wires to the slab. But no pain came this time. For a long time nothing happened at all.

Suddenly she heard some kind of buzzing from by her right ear. Of course the material filled her ears, but now it was vibrating at a low audio frequency. She saw Bernard standing in front of her with a microphone, and she realized that the buzzing was matching the movement of his mouth. They were trying to talk directly to her! But there was no voice. Was he going to talk to her thinking she could hear and understand him?

Apparently not. He kept looking at the other techs, some of whom she could see in the reflection were shaking their heads. Again and again Bernard spoke into the microphone. Each time the sound was different. Once she could make out her name and the word “the”. A few more tries and she could make out all the words despite the static. “Cynthia, we’re trying to speak to you.” She could understand, but she couldn’t tell him she understood!

Several more times he tried, but was smiling, so they knew they were making progress. Finally he spoke and the words were as clear as if they were talking in an empty room.

“The feedback seems to indicate you can hear me now,” he said. She desperately wanted to scream back that she could. “Well, this requires some explanation. That material you’re encased in is something we call anofluxar. It’s an amorphous crystal of carbon nanotech fibers. No doubt you’ve seen what it can do. As long as it receives enough energy from ambient heat, it can keep you alive. That’s very important. You’re not going to suffocate or starve. You will survive this.

“It’s also set up as a complex matrix form that we can control electrically with a computer package. I’m speaking slowly so the system can convert my sounds into vibrations exactly at your ear. It’s the same way we tortured you a few days ago.

“I’ll try to explain what went wrong. It is a problem we’ve seen before. When the anofluxar sets, the crystals align in a time and temperature dependent pattern that follows what we call a hysteresis effect. Basically, if we spend fifteen minutes cooling you down, we have to spend fifteen minutes warming you back up again for the crystals to liquefy. If we don’t exactly reverse the cooling pattern, the crystals retain their solid form. Of course we know about this, but we think there was some kind of transient spike or dip in the temperature profile while we were cooling you down. This has happened in the past. If we weren’t extra careful, then the attempts we made to free you would have just added to the problem, like adding more and more numbers to a combination lock, but we’ve been careful, so we just need to find the right reversal process for your original cooling. It might take days, though.

“We won’t stop, though. And you’re still being paid, so you should come out of this quite nicely in the end. You’re already approach ten grand for this.”

Cynthia wanted to scream at him. The money was the least of her concerns. He was telling her that their glitch caused her to be trapped but that no further glitches need concern her.

“Cynthia, we can detect right now that you’re putting pressure on your vocal cords. Don’t try to speak. There’s no way you can communicate with us. Just let us work. We’ll be with you. We can keep you occupied. You won’t be kept in silence anymore.”

Now Cynthia’s mind was racing. If they could detect pressure then she could communicate. Not with her vocal cords, of course, but she could flex her arm muscles to give them a Morse code signal. She immediately started, signaling “Can you hear me” over and over. Though the microphone was left on and she could hear the activity in the room, they didn’t seem to notice. Were they even trying? Had she learned all the Morse code in the girl scouts for nothing?

Hours again went by, but they didn’t return her to the heating room until much later. “We need to disconnect the microphone now,” Bernard said. “If we fail again, we’ll reconnect it.”

Cynthia would have been in tears had the anofluxar allowed it. They weren’t hearing her message at all. Maybe they could only detect pressure exactly where they looked for it. They put her into the casing, and yet again she felt only mild warmth. Several more times it repeated until late in the evening when they put her in the sleeping room again.

Days more passed. They tried to keep her spirits up with words and piping music into her ear, but they didn’t notice her attempts to communicate at all. Cynthia grew increasingly despondent. She only really felt fear now when she let her mind wander to the prospect of what would happened if they never fixed the problem. But even without fear she was horribly miserable.

And then the sounds stopped. They didn’t notice it for several minutes, but she was again encased in silence. She could see them at their terminals, trying to find out what happened. It was hours later before she suddenly heard voices, clear as anything now, but in her other ear.

“We were afraid something like that would happen,” Bernard said. “The anofluxar adapted and shut down the channel. We can’t use that ear again. The same will eventually happen here, too. I think we’ll have to not keep a continuous channel open. Sorry, but it’s more important that we be able to give you information than giving you music.”

All went silent, and mentally Cynthia screamed loud, long pitiful cries of horror and distress. And days more went by with only Bernard’s occasional updates. And after as many days as the first channel had failed, the second one also failed. The poster boards returned. Cynthia slipped into a deep, fitful depression as the mechanical efforts to free her repeated over and over and over to no effect.

Two things happened weeks later that she took notice of. Her dreams ceased to take her away. With her eyes perpetually open, she began to dream of the room she was in. Only suddenly realizing that people were in front of her told her when she was awake again.

Weeks after that the second event was the first bit of good she’d experienced in a long time. She felt a buzzing in her cunt. The poster board, held by some tech guy, was blunt enough. “Here’s a gift” it read.

It was something. Like a vibrator, she felt her climax rapidly rise, the product of long frustration, for Cynthia hadn’t stopped being a kinky girl, a bondage freak, or an exhibitionist. She tensed up as the orgasm washed over her. The vibrating continued, though, giving her no rest. They couldn’t even tell when she was cumming. The vibrating lasted for over twenty minutes, and she was approaching a second, potentially more powerful orgasm, when it stopped just as suddenly. “Hope that helped,” read the poster board. She wanted to cry.

Cynthia’s daily routine fell into alternating time in the lab and in the warming room, interspersed with vibrations in her cunt that gave her some welcome sexual release. She began to despair of ever getting out. She could picture with shuddering horror the prospect of living the rest of her life immobile, trapped, an object of pity and lust. Not that there was much lust in her life. Aside from the occasional orgasms, she felt like a lab rat. No one leered at her or made rude, sexual suggestions to her. If they were trying to spare her feelings, they forgot that she wasn’t a normal girl. So it came as an actual relief to her when one day she noticed that a new tech guy, one she hadn’t seen before, was openly leering at her. His eyes seemed to be on her ample tits, but they roamed down and back up again.

Later that day, after another failed attempt to free her, he stood in front of her with the microphone. Suddenly, after such long silence, she heard his voice in both of her ears.

“Hi there,” he said. “You’re probably surprised. My name’s Eddie. I’m a specialist in anofluxar technology. They brought me in to work the problem, and I was able to get the sound back on for you. It should stay on permanently this time.

“I should warn you, though, I’m not cheap. They had to give me permission to experiment on you.”

Cynthia felt her heart racing, but didn’t know why. This could be very good or very bad. She didn’t want to be stung anymore, but the guy seemed like the kind of suave, confident guy who probably just wanted to play around with her. After so long being a lab rat, she was happy to be a sex toy again. It occurred to her that she shouldn’t feel that way, but she was desperate for human contact of some kind. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that if she was going to lose her mind, she may as well enjoy the ride.

Eddie was holding a control panel she hadn’t seen before. He pushed a button, and right away the vibrating began in her cunt. “I think you know that one,” he said. “How about this one?” He tapped some keys and the vibrating turned to heat, almost burning heat, but bearable. A few more keys and she felt like her cunt was wet. A few more and it felt ice cold. Then her ass felt hot. Then it all went away.

“Well I’m assuming you felt what I think you felt,” he said. “Now lets try something else I’ve been working on for a long time but they haven’t let me test out before.” Cynthia noticed only then that everyone else in the room had cleared out. They were alone. Eddie went out of her view and returned with something else. It looked like a typical rubber vagina of the sort sold in porno shops, but this one had a ton of wires running out the back. “I wouldn’t normally waste time with this crap, but I think you have something to gain,” he said. Then he began pulling his pants off. Cynthia wanted to smile. It was the first male body part she’d seen in ages, and she was desperate enough to enjoy it, not that she wouldn’t have otherwise.

She tried to watch with her peripheral vision as he rubbed his cock to hardness and then put it into the rubber cunt. Right away Cynthia felt something in her own cunt. It wasn’t motion. She’d been filled with the anofluxar the whole time any way. But some kind of mixture of sensations was running up and down her love tunnel in time with his thrusts. Cynthia wanted to breathe hard as the closest feeling she’d had to fucking in a long time sent pleasure coursing through her crotch. His thrusts became harder and faster. It didn’t take long for her to climax. That was the moment he sped up and then stopped. She felt a mixture of warmth and liquid in her pussy at that moment. She knew there was no liquid there, but he could obviously make the stuff give her different sensations of touch. It was the strangest virtual sex she’d ever imagined, but so far it was the high point of her captivity.

They both relaxed for a moment. Eddie got dressed. Cynthia did nothing but be naked and spread eagled. He put the rubber pussy away. “I’m not an expert on the hysteresis warming,” he said, “But I can do other things. We had a corporate meeting about you, and we decided that, given your well-known personal preferences and lifestyle choices, it was wrong to keep you from further stimulation. You’re a pain slut, yes? I’ve seen the video footage. It’s important for your mental health to keep you occupied, so that’s what I’m here for. We’re going to continue testing your responses to stimuli, and I and others will be watching you the whole time.”

It was, Cynthia soon realized, a preferable state of affairs. With Eddie and some of his personal cohorts around her, she was at least less bored. But it was a perpetual struggle between their stimulation and her growing sense of doom that she was never get out, and never communicate again with the rest of the world. Eddie seemed to slow her descent into madness, but not stop it altogether. Though she showed no outward signs, crying was her default mental state every night when they let her sleep.

It was again many weeks later when Eddie was about to virtually fuck her that Cynthia had a sudden realization. Every time he fucked her, he came seconds after she did. Somehow he was measuring her, and she guessed that only her muscle strains putting pressure on the anofluxar could be the source. Desperately, she made a plan. As soon as she saw the rubber pussy she began clenching her pussy to try to send a message. The problem, she found soon enough, was that those muscles weren’t meant for clenching in Morse code. Still, it was all she had.

“Ooh, you’re eager today,” Eddie told her. “You really are a hot little number, aren’t you, Cynthia.”

Maybe it was no good. She felt the approximation of a cock in her cunt as he began thrusting. She continued trying, but his attentions made it even harder for her to maintain control. Eventually she gave up on words, but tried to clench out an SOS. Eddie continued fucking her until she came and lost all ability to signal anything. She was left despondent and hopeless when he left her sight to do whatever it was he did when he left. He’d been putting her through a battery of pleasures and pains over the weeks. Sometimes she liked it. Usually she at least liked the attention. Sometimes she hated it and wasn’t in the mood. Technically it didn’t matter, since she was still working officially. Her mood meant little.

Hours later Eddie walked briskly into the lab, holding a long printout. He held it up to her vision. She didn’t recognize it. It looked like those readouts she saw in movies when some scientists were recording an earthquake with their seismo-thingies. “This is you cumming,” he said. Then he scrolled back. “And this is you between me sticking it in you and you cumming. It doesn’t look like any of the other readouts for the last nine weeks. Why is that?”

He didn’t expect an answer, but Cynthia was breathless. He was on to something. He was tapping away at the terminal in front of her vision. “I’m setting up a collection grid at the surface of your right hand,” he told her. “It will take the computer several hours to molecularly align the nano-fibers. If there’s something you want to do with that hand, when I come back will be a good time to do it.”

He got up and turned to her again. “If those readings are what I think they are, maybe we can have a breakthrough today.”

Cynthia could hardly wait. The next few hours were among the slowest few since she’d become trapped. During that time they made several failed attempts to free her, to no avail. She was back in the lab when Eddie came for her. He rolled another apparatus in front of her. “Aside from being connected to an anofluxar matrix, this is a good old fashioned telegraph receiver,” he said, typing a few more lines. “Okay. If you’ve got something to say, say it now. Just clench your right hand.”

She watched in fascination as the machine awkwardly came to life. A few people in the room, watching, smiled. “What does it mean?” someone asked.

“It means ‘can you hear me?’” Eddie said. “And yes, we can.”

“Oh my god oh my god,” she clenched out, unsure what else to say. “Thank you thank you thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  This system should remain running indefinitely, so as long as you’re in the lab you can communicate.” He looked around. “I’m suggesting that everyone here learn Morse.”

“How long? What day is it?” she asked as many of the techs wandered back to their jobs.

“We discussed giving you information about your condition,” Eddie said. “The bosses wanted to keep things from you. I said forget it, and since they need me here, I won. Today is January twenty-second. You’ve been here almost eleven months.”

Cynthia was stunned and unable to communicate for a while.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time,” Eddie said.

“I thought it was years by now,” she finally replied.

“I can see why you’d think that.”

“Will I ever get out?”

He paused. “I don’t know. They’re doing what they can. They’re running countless experiments, on you and on others.”

“What others?”

“Other girls. They’ve had this problem before. When they can’t find the reversal process they can either guess randomly or they can experiment with the matrix. Neither method has great success. I’ve tried my hand at it a lot lately. It’s a tough problem.”

“Can’t they just heat it up more?”

“Without the hysteresis reversal, this stuff won’t melt. It will burn at twenty two hundred degrees fahrenheit.”

“Break it then?”

“Hardened anofluxar doesn’t chip. If it cracks, it shatters into about a million pieces, and pretty much rips you apart inside in the process.”

“How long can I live like this?”

“There’s no known upper limit. Others have gone longer than you.”

“What others?”

“Cynthia, let’s not be naive. I’ve read your work history. You’re a paid prostitute specializing in torture and bondage. You know not every girl you were tortured alongside was a pro like you. There are currently sixteen other girls trapped in anofluxar, eight of them for longer than you. None of them are pros. They’re runaways, streetwalkers, and flat out kidnapped housewives and college students. But you’re the one they’re pulling out the stops to rescue. The board is committed to getting you out safely.”

“And if nothing works?”

“You know the answer.”

“Yes. I know.”

Communication was slow, but for the first time since her ordeal began Cynthia began feeling better rather than worse. She confirmed her assent in continuing to stimulate her. It was better than just hanging there, suspended, watching the walls. With Eddie at the controls, he put her through as many conceivable sensations as the anofluxar could produce, from agonizing pain to an orgasm that continued for a hundred eight five minutes. When he wasn’t around she felt like crying. When he was around, she wanted to gasp or scream. And still the weeks passed her by.

Sometimes she was left alone except for routine testing. Sometimes she endured marathon sessions of sexual manipulation and mistreatment. One day Eddie came in with a bigger grin than usual. Cynthia wondered what he had in mind for her.

“Are you ready for something really mind-blowing?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” she replied, hoping he caught her coyness.

“Nope. But give me an hour to set up. This needs new electrical leads.” For the next hour or so Cynthia waited in dreadful anticipation. He gave no further indication of what he had in mind for her. Would it be agony or ecstasy? Whatever it was, he shooed the other lab techs away when he was ready.”

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked through her clenching.

“This will feel as much like human sex as possible,” he said, getting completely undressed. His cock hardened even without his touching it.

“I’m ready, of course,” she said.

He clicked the mouse button once. Almost immediately Cynthia felt and heard a high-pitched screeching sound filling the slab surrounding her. And then, in an instant, it all turned to liquid and fell away. She fell in a heap to the floor of the lab as the slippery fluid flowed away and into drains in the floor.

Cynthia lay in a heap, her brain steadfastly refusing to comprehend what had just happened. And in a moment, Eddie was on top of her. She felt his cock, his real cock, thrust into her long unused pussy and begin pounding away at her. It felt so good she just groaned and gasped as part of her conscious mind tried to sort out the events of the last few seconds. She felt an unbridled joy filling her and she was conflicted about the sex versus the freedom. But Eddie was horny as was Cynthia and soon they both came in a magnificent climax that had her shaking on the floor.

“I, I’m free. You did it!” she cried as he got his pants on after. “I can’t believe it! It’s over now!”

“You can all come in now,” he said over an intercom, and in seconds the lab was filled with cheering, celebrating workers. Cynthia tried to stand, but found her muscles too weak to get up. Somehow she didn’t care. She would get strong again soon enough. Until then, the people around her got her onto a stretcher.

“How?” she cried.

“Your boyfriend here found a way to reset the matrix with an electrical signal,” Bernard said. “It was risky, but we tried it a few hours ago on another girl and it worked perfectly. The hysteresis effect should no longer be a problem, and in the future we probably won’t need heating or cooling to set the anofluxar.”

Cynthia was so overcome with joy she could only cry. Eddie was with her as they carried her out of the lab. She saw a calendar on the wall on the way out, through a door they didn’t normally use for her. It was June eighth. “And somebody punch her time card already!” was the last thing she heard before she left the lab, hopefully for the last time ever.

The first few days of Cynthia’s recovery were nearly a blur. Her sleep cycle was knocked out of whack, and she alternated between joy and depression, but as she stabilized and was able to walk again she realized she could simply put the experience behind her. As expected, she and Eddie hooked up for the time being. He was her rescuer, but she felt she’d known him long enough not to be confused by her emotions. She was otherwise able to step back into her life without complications. She had always had automatic bill paying via her job, and had no family to notice her absence. Of course her apartment was stuffy as hell, but she didn’t plan to live there long anyway. Her paycheck arrived a week after her freedom. One point three million dollars was enough for her to get a better place.

Of course her pay was small compared to Eddie’s bonus for completely re-designing the physics and chemistry of anofluxar, but she didn’t mind. He spent in on creative ways to shake her body until it turned to jelly. After long forgetting some things, she recovered not only her strength but her conviction that her body really was a playground and the worst thing in the world was keeping boys from playing on it.

She vowed sternly never to go near anofluxar again. Eddie was working on changing her mind. But, three months after getting out of the lab she received another call on the work phone in her new bedroom.

“That’s still hooked up?” Eddie asked from beside her on the bed.

“I guess I didn’t quit my job,” she said. “They want to test some bullwhips on me.”

“I see,” he replied. “So?”

“Yeah, so. Tough question. What to do, what to do?” She laid in the bed for several quiet minutes. She finally sat up and leaned on her elbow. “Can you unchain my feet and give me a ride into work?” she asked. “I don’t want to be late. It’s unprofessional.”

The End

April 23, 2017, 03:02:55 AM
Reply #1

Offline vile8r

Wow! Just wow!  :)

April 23, 2017, 08:59:18 AM
Reply #2

Offline Jed

That was certainly different!

April 23, 2017, 10:38:20 AM
Reply #3

Offline SoftGameHunter

Thanks, guys. I think I love this site. My stories don't get lost here!