SAVE THE ANIMALS!
Part Three of ?
- TAKING HER MEASURE -
Rachel and the merry measurers.




For Rachel, trapped with her hips encased in the clamshell embrace
of the high-tech toilet, the passage of time comes to be measured
in pounding blasts of belly-swelling water, as the appliance goes
on and on with its random enema cycles.

It seems to her that it must be hours by now, and she has long ceased
trying to keep count, or even attempting to resist the jetting water.
Her predicament has smeared into one indefinitely long ordeal of
intensely arousing but frustrating sensations. The intermittently
vibrating object in her vagina makes her swollen sex ache for more,
and brings back memories of when her ex-boyfriend would tease her
into gasping need, then pound her into screaming orgasm with his
long hard cock - or whatever else he chose to use in her.

In the years since those times, she'd convinced herself that he was
mistreating and demeaning her, and she'd shut out of her mind the
memories of how it had _felt_. Mostly. But now, she is forced to
remember - how powerfully she can need, and how much she wishes
she could have the relief of a good hard, deep cunt pounding.

Instead, she is getting a pounding somewhere else - her arse. And
although after a while (to her shame) it has started to feel pretty
dammed good, it just isn't helping with her needy pussy. Seems to
be making it worse, if anything. Sometimes she gets so close to
orgasm she screams in frustration, as the jet, or the vibrator
quits on her yet again. Her clit is so rigidly aching, sometimes
she beats her fists in rage and frustration on the plastic barrier
of the 'skirt' enclosing both her hips, and the clamshell toilet.
Out of sight, it feels like it must be swollen to many times its
abnormal, humiliating size - and the irregular but brief needling
by the 'flush' jets seem to tease it into a more unbearable state
every time they hit her.

Eyes closed, sometimes almost unconscious from the sensory overload,
she still cannot allow herself go limp for long, since her only support
is the contraption clamped to her pelvis. There is nothing holding
her upper body upright but her own spine - and when she relaxes into
a slump the stress on her back is painful.

Another problem that over time becomes increasingly aggravating, is
that although her arms are entirely free, there is nothing much she
can do with them, or her hands. Given the sensations in her body,
its simply impossible to merely let her arms hang at her sides. She
wants so badly to do _something_ about her genital torment, but there
is no possible way to touch herself below the waistline of the 'skirt'.
The tight, rigid belt allows her finger to squeeze between it and her
stomach, but its uncomfortable, especially when an enema blast goes
on for long enough to swell up her belly.

Or she can clasp her breasts and toy with her nipples, which in her
aroused condition she seems to want to do a lot - but it only makes
her feel worse.

She tries everything else she can think of - clasping her hands behind
her back, behind her neck, digging her fingers into her hair in
exasperation... but whatever she tries just seems to underline that
she _can't_ touch the one spot she desperately _needs_ to.


   .....more time passes.....


Suddenly the room brightens, as a light outside is turned on and the
crack under the door outshines the feeble computer monitor glow.
She can hear voices approaching, indistinct. They seem to be coming
straight to the door, but then go on past, and for a moment there
are shadows of moving feet in the light under the door. The voices
don't go far, and she hears the scrape of a chair, and some rattling
and banging noises. The voices continue, as if the people are staying
in one place, discussing something. She strains to hear, but cannot
quiet her own rapid panting and gasping. The water jet strikes again,
loudly.

Are they here for her? she wonders. Down here in the university
basement, they probably are. Didn't they have to walk past those other
people in cages? She doesn't know. What if they don't know about her?
Maybe they would rescue her if she yelled for help? Worth a try?
She is gathering her breath to shout, when... is that laughter? Yes,
they are both laughing. Two men. And she knows that sort of laugh -
its the crude joke laugh. And from those laughs, she recognises them.
They are Fred and Jeff, the undergrads who dragged her down here last
night. The ones who drugged her and apparently raped her while
unconscious. There's no point calling for help.

Suddenly it all seems much more real. In a moment, the two rapists
are going to be coming in here, to begin her on the day of tests that
were mentioned yesterday. She is naked, aroused to near screaming,
and trapped with her hips in some kind of mechanised erotic toilet.
There is nothing she can do about it. She is not going to be getting
out of this one easily, if at all. She is now an experimental sexual
object, put here by her own carelessness.

And the worst thing of all, she realises as it all sinks in, and the
enema jet blasts her yet again and her hips rock back reflexively to
line her arsehole up better with the jet, is that somehow, somewhere
deep in her mind, something is glad. She is shocked when she realises
this - how can she be _glad_? Its impossible!

Just then there is another scrape of a chair, and footsteps walking
back to her door. A rattle, the door opens, and with a sequence of
buzzing and blinkings, the fluros flicker on. She squints in the sudden
glare, reflexively covering her breasts with her hands. Fred follows
Jeff through the doorway. They both glance at her, grinning as if
they'd just heard some great joke.

"Yep, same as always. Rachel, didn't your mother tell you not to sit
right down on strange toilets? You might catch something!"

"Or something might catch you!" Fred follows. "You know, so far not
_one_ of our donors failed to lock themselves into the toilet."

"Do you like that, by the way? Its neat, huh? A NASA contract the uni
landed some time ago. They needed a unisex dunny that would work in
zero G, or even while manoeuvring. Plus, there were a few ah, informal
requirements, related to very lengthy missions. Mars and stuff."
Jeff explains. "Typical isn't it? Their studies of astronaut constipation
and bowel function in long term zero-g, seemed more important to those
anal-retentive wankers than building the actual dammed spaceship.

They had to get the crapper sorted out first, or the whole show was
off! It got even crazier too - politically, they had to have a mixed-
sex crew - but no way would our heroes be allowed to actually fuck
any time in the two year round trip. Can you believe it? Oh no, all
natural bodily functions to be taken care of mechanically, per an
ordered schedule set by the brass knob-polishers back at Canaveral.

So guess where the only private space on the ship was?  Or it was
supposed to be private, only apparently the space jocks discovered
the ship design included more hidden cameras in the loos than all
the science cams added together. Plus the huge high bandwidth radio
link dish, that consumed a good proportion of the total launch weight
and ship's power, seemed to be underutilised - unless somehow the
ship's systems would be continuously transmitting, say, several
high definition video channels. Then it turned out that much of
the mission funding originated from a consortium of up-skirts web
porn internet sites. In which the mission director had shares.
As did several of the Christian Right politicians who'd pushed 
Congress into part-funding the Mars mission in the first place,
given that 'donated' private funding would make up the rest.

Anyway... of course the entire project was defunded and mothballed
just before our Space-Loo was crated up and shipped to the Cape.
For a while it looked as if the government wouldn't pay out the
University's contract, and there was talk of recouping some of the
costs by leasing the produced units to a Japanese adult TV contest
show. That all went pear shaped when they demanded the units be
modified to allow for live eels in the plumbing. Then fortunately
it turned out that certain Congress-persons had requested and
received uncut video footage of the prototype Space-Loo live tests,
which were conducted at a Texas state correctional facility for
women. Thus ended the budgetary committee's objections to paying
the university for an as-yet undelivered product.
So now we have several of them. Are you having fun?"

"Well of course she's having fun! With my software hacks, how could
she not?" Jeff tosses at Fred, sits down at the desk, and starts
mousing the computer. "Ha! See Fred, its working fine. Am I great
at this or what? Nearly two hours on it, not a single orgasm. Looks
like all the radio telemetry link protocol bugs are fixed, and the
egg-loo integration is now perfecto. I told you it was OK to let her
try out the toilet, even though prof specified she mustn't come."

Fred has been standing close to the bars of her cage, admiring her.
He turns and walks around to stand next to Jeff at the screen. They
both become engrossed in the display, and chatter about software
intricacies for a while. Completely ignoring her.

She is still panting, half out of her mind with horniness, but
this is the last thing she expected! What are they doing! Dammed
nerds! Here she is, a stunningly sexy, naked woman, totally in 
their power, and they are ignoring her! Babbling on about some
stupid software! What the hell are they talking about? You'd
think they'd at least leer at her now and then, but no!
She's just realising she's forgotten to hold her hands over her
breasts, and that her hands are now resting knuckles to hips in
irritation, when Jeff glances up at her again. They are still
talking, but now it seems to be about her again.

"...and that mesh! Wait till we get her scanned, and textured.
I'm gonna make a Far Cry skin... heh.. a bit of camo paint in
the right places, and my enemies will be dead meat - frozen in
sexual awe as I own them! Have you ever seen such perfect boobs?"

"Yeah, nice. Don't forget some extra-fine tessellation at her
crotch and nipples. Texture bumping just won't do that clit of
hers justice. I wanna see that thing in profile as I blow you
away."

"In your dreams! When did you ever take me by surprise?"

"Hey, I'm not that crap, Jeff! I get you now and then."

"Only when you camp with a sniper rifle, you bastard. One on
one, you are suckage itself dude."

"Hmmpf. OK, next time then..... Oh, who's this message from?"
Fred has noticed the answering machine light blinking. Playing it,
Ms Pelton's disapproving tones fill the room.

"Yay! Jeff, she won't be in till after lunch. Good. Urgh! 'See you
later sweaty' Her puns... I swear I'm gonna lock that old bag on
the NASA-loo one day, and give her full power enema till she bursts.
Oh! Umm... there is an interlock to stop that happening, isn't there?
I hope. Can just see some space hero getting half way to Mars, then
a cosmic ray zaps some bit in the loo microcode, and hero gets
blown up - splattered all over the inside of the ship. Yuk!"

"Safety interlocks? Are you kidding? This thing is running on WinCE.
What good would application interlocks do, when the OS can go bye-
byes at any moment? Still, it hasn't happened yet. Hmmm... but
its worth considering. We don't want any of our donors going pop.
Maybe, if I add some hardware watchdogs... ah, but hey, I suppose
we'd better get back to the task. You think she's done on there
yet?" He grins cheesily at her, and types something. The sound of
the whining pump, that had faded out of her awareness, spins down
in pitch and stops. The thing inside her, that was buzzing away
again, suddenly stops.

For the first time in a while, they are both paying attention to
her. Fred speaks to her. "I'm glad you seem to be sensible about
this. I hate it when our donors scream and yell. They hate it too,
when we stop them doing that. Its much nicer for everyone if you
stay calm." He considers for a moment. "Oh, well, I shouldn't say
'calm' exactly. 'Civil' would be more accurate. You don't really
have any choice about how excited you'll be, given that..."

Jeff cuts in. "Actually, you can yell too, all you like. Its sound
proof down here. What Fred means, is we'd like you to keep it
polite. There's no point abusing us, since you are here indefinitely,
and we have some very high tech means of making your stay extra
uncomfortable if you piss us off. That toilet is nothing, just a
fun toy we put there to play tricks with. You'll be encountering
other stuff soon enough. Just remember, that at all times, you'll
be completely under the control of the university. At the moment,
that's lil 'ol us. Like this...."  He types something again.
As he hits 'enter', the needling sprays instantly attack her sex
again. Only this time, instead of the brief, frustrating bursts
she'd become accustomed to, they just keep going.

The two undergrads walk over to the door of her cage, and Fred
unlocks it. They walk the couple of paces over to her, as she
gasps and pants in her flaring excitement. Oh god, that sensation
is so intense, it kind of hurts, but drives her excitement up...

Fred, grabbing one of her wrists, speaks. "The egg isn't calibrated
to you yet, so there has to be a fairly big safety margin still,
on your excitement level. No orgasms allowed, yet. But you'll
find its still pretty intense, even though we can't let you go
right up to the very edge."

He digs something out of his pocket. Two somethings. Hands one to Jeff,
who now has hold of her other wrist. They each wrap the things around
her wrists, and she is too overwhelmed by the needlepoint pummelling
of her crotch to struggle. A moment later with two 'click's, her wrists
are snapped to rings at the sides of the waist band of her plastic
skirt-shield. She hardly notices... she is getting near to... near to...
And then the needling stops, dead.

She moans frustration. "Ohhhhhhhh... noooooooo..... "

Jeff mimics her. "Ohhhhh yessss... That's my software, don't complain.
Now the egg inside you is sending some data packets that record your
arousal level plateauing, as the stimulation stops. The system will
wait till you are back down to a lower threshold of excitement,
then restart those jets. When you get back up to the upper threshold,
it will stop again. And so on. There is no way you can cheat it, no
way you can cum. .... My, you really do have huge nipples, you know!"

He bends down, and clasping both hands around her breast, puts his
lips to her hard nip, barely touching the tip. His tongue teases the
very end, very, very lightly for a moment. "I do love large nipples."
He sucks the whole nip into his pursed lips, and starts nibbling at
it more firmly.

Fred meanwhile has cupped her other breast in one hand, his other
running up and down her back caressingly. He comments offhandedly.
"Of course, the great thing about a PID control loop like the egg
telemetry, the processor that's analysing it, and directing how
much goosing to send you, is that there can be extrinsic sources of
stimulation, such as Jeff there, and the loop will compensate anyway."

Jeff comes up for air for a moment. "And its adaptive too. Fred,
could you open the loo please? Rachel, there's no point trying to
get away, you are behind several code-locked doors. And anyway,
even if you did get out, we'd just ask the police to fetch you
back. Where was I? Oh yes, adaptive. When the loo releases, the
system will switch to other means of stimulation. That will be
the egg again. The testing lab is down the corridor - there'll
be other things there. Not so bad, a lot of it you'll enjoy, I
think. Mmmmm... and we'll enjoy too. I keep thinking I must have
been imagining that weird clit of yours. Mmmm yummy nipples..."

He goes back to nuzzling at her breast. Fred has gone to the
computer, and gestures with the mouse. The computer makes a
loud toilet flushing sound, and simultaneously the clamshell
around her pelvis opens out like a flower while dropping away
and down out of the skirt. Her feet reach the floor again.

Fred mutters "That sample really is all wrong, Jeff. It should make
a sort of 'thwoook!' effect, like opening a bottle or something."

He walks back to them, kneels down in front of her, peering at
her crotch. "Holly shit! Get a load of this, man! Its totally
freaky - this girl is some kind of mutant or something. Look at
the size of that thing! You had the vacuum up a lot higher than
normal, did you?"

She knows what he's looking at, even without looking herself.
In fact she can't, since Jeff is stooping across her view. But
the words give her a sinking feeling of humiliation. She can
_feel_ what he's talking about - her clit, that has been aching
with overstimulated hardness for what seems like hours now.
She knows what it looks like, and the experience of having her
clit stay achingly erect for hours, even sometimes all day, is
nothing new to her. This morning the feelings have grown extra
uncomfortable, but she has put that down to whatever they must
have done with it last night.

Then Jeff moves, to kneel down and look too. So she can see...
Oh! She gasps, shocked, staring through the clear plastic of the
rigid skirt, at her clit. Its _much_ bigger than she's ever seen
it before. In fact her whole sex is... well, much bigger too.
Her labia are dark and thickly swollen, parted widely like two
fat sausages. Between them, her inner lips are also thickened
up and protruding prominently. But her clit... She gasps in shock,
its _never_ been like that before.

Even when her boyfriend had teased her heartlessly for hours, and
even in the worst of her unwanted, strangely persistent arousals
of more recent times, it had been just over an inch long, and
fairly thin, like her little finger. Exceptionally large as clits
go, she had found by looking it up on the net. Shameful for her,
but still something she could consider natural enough on a girl,
even if rare.

What she sees now shakes her self image savagely. No _girl_ ever
had something like that sticking out between her legs, surely!
That's a penis! she thinks. Its easily two inches long, and fatter
than any of her fingers. Worse, its even changed its shape, with
a bulging head somewhat thicker than the base. Its not even the
delicate shade of pearly pink she's used to - now its a deep,
confronting shade of purple-red. 'A penis, a miniature, bone-hard,
aching and demanding penis', she thinks. 'What am I then? Am I
a girl, or am I _really_ some kind of freak like he said?'


For a few moments, all three of them are silent, contemplating the
wondrous sight. Almost like some religious tableau - the adoration
of the clitori. Finally Jeff laughs sheepishly "Ha ha, ah, uh.. well,
uh, yeah, I did set it a bit higher. After last night, I wondered...
But never mind, looks like no harm done. Bit of a discovery, don't
you think? Wow... awesome..."

Fred agrees "Truly outstanding! A chick with a dick! Sort of... 
Anyway, wait till the Prof sees this! He'll be pleased, I bet. This
thing beats any of those clitoromegally case studies he dug up. By,
oh, would you say about one hundred percent by mass?"

"Mass, length, girth, shape... hell, it even kinda resembles a dick!
Heh... Ms Pelton is going to freak too. You know how she gets off on
making life hell for the male subjects - imagine what this will
do to her head!

"Ha ha ha... yeah, she'll be torn. Loves to tongue-tease the girls,
but I've never seen her mouth anywhere near a dick. What will she
do about this?" He is feeling in his pocket as he speaks, seeming to
have lost something. "Uh Jeff, did you see the arm strap anywhere?"

Jeff grimaces. "Urgh! Not sure I ever want to see Pelton sucking
cock. Lemons, I'd believe, cocks, no. It might put me off the whole
idea. Yeah, I brought it. Here we go."

He pulls another strap affair from his pocket, and moves behind Rachel.
So does Fred. She feels hands gripping her elbows, and drawing them
closer together behind her back. With her wrists fastened to her waist,
this strains her shoulders a little, shifting them back. And, she
realises, pushing out her chest and raising her breasts. Till now
she was still staring down at her clit, but as her posture shifts
and chest thrusts out, her sex vanishes from her view, clit and all.
She has to suppress an urge to shift her hips forward, so she can see
it again. Its not as if she can't feel it.

She can also feel that something, that strap no doubt, is being
fastened around her arms, just above her elbows. It tightens, holding
her arms even closer, but not actually touching, behind her. Someone's
hand seems to be gripping the strap between her arms, and then pulls
backwards on it, forcing her to follow.

Fred steps back to her side, and again cups her breast, massaging it.
"OK Rachel, now we are going for a short walk. Behave yourself. Jeff
will guide you by the strap he's holding, and there's nowhere for you
to get to, even if he did let go. Which he won't. Plus, I think in a
moment or two, you'll be.... nah, why spoil the surprise, eh Jeff?"

A chuckle from behind. "Yeah, indeed. Right. Lets go then Igor. To the
lab, bwahahaha!" He acts a film villain's evil laugh.

She has been taking all this in, still in a kind of aroused-to-near-
orgasm stupor. As that fades, frustratingly, her sense of where she
is has begun to return. As Fred opens the door, it finally sinks in
that she is about to be paraded naked through the building, again.
With her sex... like this!

"No! Wait! I don't w.. Oh! Ooooooooooh! OOOOooohhhhh! Uuuuhhhhhh...."
Just as she starts to protest, an intense thrumming begins in her
pussy. It pulsed on briefly, then off, then on longer, off, then
comes on and stays on. Her hips buck back and forth, driven into
spontaneous fucking thrusts by the intensity of the sensation.

From behind her, another stage laugh. "Bwahahaha... suuuurpise!
And don't forget now... just say NO to orgasms! Or, actually you
can say oh oh oh, but it still won't help you get one. Move."

He pushes on the elbow strap, and she's far too occupied with the
throbbing beat between her legs to do anything but step forwards.
Dimly, she's aware of the situation, nakedness, stumbling out into
the stark corridor, but it all seems insignificant. Only the beating
in her sex, and the rising tension in her belly consume her attention.
They force her to keep walking, awkwardly with her legs held apart
by the straps inside the plastic skirt. She barely registers the
passing doors, turns, rooms full of cages, some occupied by naked
people.
All the same, the walking and distractions do slow her rising heat
somewhat, despite the intensity of the stimulation inside her.
Which goes on and on, programmed to continue till she comes close
to cumming.

Even focussed as she is on the sensations from the object doing its
best to vibrate her insides into pre-orgasm, she still knows what
its aim is. She half-wishes she could let herself go with its push,
let her arousal rise, till it would stop. But she also dreads that
moment, when she will be left hanging on the precipice, desperate
for completion, feeling the desire throbbing, yet ebbing unsatisfied.

A part of her mind also still thinks of the sight she must present-
naked, strapped into an exposing posture, staggering as she is
guided along, her hips attempting to buck as if fucking the egg
inside her, while walking. And her sex... same swollen, slick
feeling, so probably looking the same. She has taken to keeping
her eyes closed as she is guided; it seems to help reduce her
feeling of humiliation, to not have to watch her breasts jiggle
around in their out thrust position.


"Ah! Good morning Fred, Jeff! Another acquisition, I presume?"

An unfamiliar voice! What? Oh no... She shrinks inside in shame,
struggling with diverging wishes. To run, to curl up, to keep her
eyes closed, to see, to stand still, to fuck, to fuck....
She squints out of one half opened eye, not wanting to admit she
sees.  She sees.... no! Not just one strange man, but three!
And a woman!  All in white lab coats, all directly examining her
as they stand to one side in the passage to let her party by.
Then Jeff, her controller, stops, as does Fred. Her stomach drops
through the floor. Nooo... Please, not chatting. Don't stop...

"Hi professor Jacobs! Working on the weekend? How is Charlie?"

"Yes, it's getting very exciting! Charlie is making great progress;
every day the responses are more complex. Since we went real-time,
I hate to be away even for a few hours. Its like watching a baby
learning, only much faster. Three Dee space perception is just about
mastered, and since we brought the tactile sensors online a few days
ago, Charlie is really starting to get the hang of interactive
manipulation. Ah.. Speaking of which... looks like you two will
be having some enthralling interacting with your donor there, eh?
My, she looks like she's about to... um... have a bit of a neural
net crisis, what?"

"Wow, that's great progress, professor! I'd like to drop by and watch
Charlie, if that's possible? Lunchtime, maybe? As for her... Stand up
straight Rachel! Face _that_ way!" She has been trying to cower behind
Fred, crouching and facing away from the strangers, even though the
constant internal pulsating makes it impossible for her to completely
stop the reflexive thrusting of her hips. She is completely mortified,
to think of having to stand naked in the presence of so many people
with her body's motions giving away her helpless arousal.

But Fred grabs her upper arm and swings her around, and pulls her up,
to face them directly. Jeff helps hold here there, as Fred continues
the chat. To her intense shame, she cannot seem to stop her hips from
thrusting and grinding in time with the pulsing vibrations that torment
her sex, or control her gasping breaths. She can see from the amused
expressions on the faces of these people, that it's no use calling for
help from them.

"As for her, yes, a new body donor, just accepted yesterday. Seems
she didn't read the fine print, ha ha ha! So she's a little unhappy
with her situation. But then, same with most of them. Idealists tend
to be so careless! Heh... neural net crisis... you AI guys kill me.
But no, no crisis for her for a while. If you were wondering what's
up with all this air-humping, its just one of those vaginal trainer
eggs we use. Its set to stir her up, but always quit before her, uh,
crisis. Heh. Standard induction processing, before we start with
baseline testing. Hey, you've never seen that, right? Anyone?"

There is a general murmuring of "No, no, never seen that, no.."

Jeff chimes in cheerfully. "Well then! Its wonderful news about Charlie!
If you can tear yourselves away from the manipulator arms and wooden
blocks for a while, would you like to come round to our lab in room
52, and observe? We could order in pizza for lunch, make it a twin
celebration. You and your AI, and us.. well, as you can very plainly
see, we too have an exceptional windfall. Quite the huge statistical
anomally, don't you agree?"
He gestures at Rachel's still humping crotch, with its vividly protruding
clitoris and swollen labia, all glistening with her fluids. Some is
even running down the insides of her thighs.

The professor turns to his companions. "Well, I believe we could
be sociable, eh? What about you, Alice? Are you comfortable with
the body donor program? I'm told the baseline tests are quite racy,
eh? Very kind of the medical faculty to lend us the space here, would
be good to show some interest in the project that is helping so much
with the university's funding, eh? What do you say?"

The woman, Alice, like the other two men with with Professor Jacobs,
is a graduate research assistant, working on her Masters thesis in AI
under the Professor. They are all in their mid twenties, and even in
the white lab coats, manage to look somehow computer geeky. With Alice,
its mostly her glasses and shy mannerisms that convey this impression.
Since otherwise, she's a fine looking young woman, with a great figure,
even in the loose coat. Her hair is shoulder length, nearly black.
She is one of those intriguing Asian-European hybrids, giving her eyes
a little of the orient, skin a light permanent tan, and facial structure
something hard to place. Beautiful, but would be more so if she'd stop
blinking and biting her lip as she stares at Rachel as if hypnotised.

It takes a moment for her to process the question. Then another to bring
herself to speak, with these extra people present whom she doesn't know.
Not to mention a serious internal chaos involving her feelings about
the naked, sexually aroused woman standing just a few feet away.
Alice had heard of the body donation program through friends at the
university. Rumours... She gives herself a small shake, and forces her
concentration back to the question. She looks away from Rachel, but
as usual can't bring herself to look directly at Professor Jacobs.
She can feel herself blushing, which makes her even more shy.

"Uh.. I.. don't mind. Its fine, I'll be... fine. I'd... yes, I'd like
to visit, thank... thank you."

"Splendid! And you fellows, Martin, Joel, did you have any plans this
morning that can't wait?"

Martin is by far the most far gone computer nerd of the two, and has a
shyness problem even worse than Alice's. He manages to shake his head,
no, while never taking his eyes off Rachel.

Joel is more outgoing. "Well... we are going to switch Charlie's mobile
unit over from cabled to radio link this morning, but that shouldn't
make any significant change in Charlie's abilities, other than better
mobility. And he seems to be getting the hang of the vocoder pretty
well already. So, no, I guess there's nothing we can't get through
pretty quickly." He manages to speak directly towards the professor
for a moment, then his eyes turn back to Rachel. "I'd be happy to uh..
come visit."

Jacobs too has been drawn back to watching Rachel, who is clearly being
driven further into sexual trance by the egg. She has closed her eyes,
whether from acute embarrassment, or pleasure, its impossible to tell.
Her panting gasps betray her approaching climax, and the bright flush
over her face, neck, and upper chest could be a blush, or pre-climax.
Everyone is silent for several seconds, engrossed. Then Jacobs remembers.

"Ah! Yes, yes, excellent idea. So that's settled. No particular time,
eh? We might as well drop by as soon as we ca... um, as soon as we
complete a few things we must do this morning."

There's a moment's more pause, then he asks - "Ah... are you sure she
can't.... you know.. climax? I'd swear she was... well...."


Jeff, still holding onto Rachel from behind, now partly supporting her
as she shudders, replies. "Lets hope not! Or I'll be in deep shit, for
setting up the code wrong. I'd say, any moment now you'll see the mode
switch over. Just watch a moment, if you don't have to rush off."

Nobody rushes off, so they all stand there in the passage, circled
around Rachel as she gasps and hunches desperately to the heavy cycling
vibrations in her cunt. Jeff and Fred are now almost entirely supporting
her weight by her arms. 

Rachel now has her head thrown back, moaning and crying, completely
oblivious to her audience by now.  "Ohhhh ohhh... ohhhhh yesssss...
oohhhhhuuuhhhh!  uuuUUUHHHAAAAAHHH! uuuUUUHHHH! OOooooohhhhh! oo!
oo! ooooo! uuuuhhh!..." She can feel it gathering. All the aching
frustration of the last few hours, the denied orgasms, all building
to a huge peak, that's going to crash down on her any moment... any...
mo...men...t....nooooow....

And then the vibration stops dead. Leaving her sex feeling like its
had a mountain's worth of pressure pumped into her, with nowhere to
go. She screams in frustration, wriggling desperately. "OOOOOOOOHHH
NOOOOOOO!!!!!!! OHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAHHHHHHH BASTARDS! OHHH GOD DAMM YOU!
FUUUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK YOU BASTARDS!  OOohhh God PLEASE!... ARRRGH!"
If only she could press her thighs together, if only touch herself
just for an instant... she struggles mightily against the skirt, against
the wrist locks at her waist and the hands gripping her arms, but there's
nothing she can do to tip her pleasure over the peak.

As she flails, yelling at the top of her lungs, Fred pulls another
item from his pocket, orients it, waits his moment, then deftly pokes
one end of the short yellow rubbery cylinder into Rachel's wide open
mouth as she takes a deep new breath. He squeezes something on the
end he's holding, and there is a 'fssswoop!' sound. Suddenly Rachel's
mouth is locked wide open, with a bright yellow rubber ball inflated
behind her teeth. Its obviously not going to be coming out until the
air is let out. Rachel's tirade is cut short, reduced to a shocked,
indignant but very muted series of 'mmmfffth! mmm-mmmthfff!' sounds.

Fred moves to steer her onwards. "Well, there you go. Close, but no
cigar, neurally speaking. More of the same for her for the rest of
the morning, I'm afraid. Jeff, we should talk more about those safety
margins in the code sometime. Perhaps a little wider?"

"Well, maybe. But we don't have a physiology baseline yet, you recall.
Will be interesting to fine tune this one, given such pronounced
verbalisation. Also, have you noticed that her clitoro-genital
engorgement hasn't abated at all, this whole morning? That's quite
unusual, don't you agree?" He has been bending down, to more closely
examine her sex, with it's still spectacular clitoral projection.
Then he shakes his head, remembering the others.

"Oh, I'm sorry everyone, its so easy to be distracted by these donors,
and forget one's manners. Yes Professor, we'd be happy to see you all
any time this morning, and feel free to stay and observe Rachel's
induction procedures. Our budget covers lunch, and I have an 'unlimited
pizzas' discount voucher, so we can afford to order extra. Save
your appetite! Till then!"

He and Fred grasp the now weakly struggling, sobbing Rachel firmly
by the arms and her elbow cinch, and march her off down the passage.
The Professor and his assistants remain for a few moments, each with
their own private thoughts. Then Jacobs rallies them with a "Come
on then, time to say good morning to Charlie!"
Silently, each thinking their own thoughts, they continue to the lab.