“Honey, look at this email. I was about to purge it as spam when I saw it mentions Tom and Tara too. Very odd! It says we were chosen to participate in a college psych experiment. They are offering $5000 each if we complete the one experiment or $1000 if we opt out early. We just have to stay in a small room with some others for 24-hours with no food or outside communication. Let’s check with Tom.” My inner voices screamed bloody murder, but I ignored them for a chance at ten grand.
Minutes later Tom answered his phone, “Hi Tom ... Yes it’s Sally and Scott ... Fine, but did you get an email from ... Yes, that’s the one. What do you mean it didn’t mention us? ... Why were their names in it? I don’t even know a Roger and Renae so how ... Yeah, OK. But are you considering it? ... Sure five grand each is hugely tempting for one day of just relaxing ... Right, it will be taxing, but common, I can do 24-hours on my head ... No, I won’t actually do ... NO! Not even on a dare. I say, let’s do it. We can use the ten grand! ... Right. See you there tomorrow at noon. Bye. Umm, Scott love, I have a bad feeling about this. In case they aren’t legit, I’m going to record everything with our spy glasses. In audio only mode it can record up to forty-eight hours.”
“Ok, hon, I’m turning on the recorder!” Scott and I arrive at the dilapidated warehouse in an abandoned business district just a minute after Tom and Tara. The newbies, Roger and Renae, are already here. Renae is quite striking with her pretty face and well endowed, curvy figure. We’ll have to have her for lunch one day. I bet she’s quite tasty too. Oops, where is my mind going? The youngster, Carl, with the clipboard must be the experiment moderator. I probably should listen to him instead of dreaming about...
Oh, OK, we’re all hanging our coats on the rack and ... why are they giving him their phones and watches? I must have missed that part. I’m so glad I didn’t try to use my phone to record this. Did he just offer an extra $1000 if we went in the room naked? Of course Tom and Tara have seen us naked, but I don’t know these newbies. Well if they agree, I guess I will too. Chickened out, huh? Too bad! I watch as Carl scans each of them with his wand. He suggests we use the toilet before entering the room. What a great idea! Tom asked when I started wearing glasses and I quickly hushed him!
After signing a release form, Carl takes our shoes too, hands each of us a six-pack of water and he finally allows us into the 30x30x10’ Faraday cage room. It’s actually quite spacious so air won’t be a problem for a 24-hour stay. As I enter, I notice a series of check boxes on Carl’s form and assume it’s a progress list for us. Carl shoves the door closed to form a hermetic seal and I hear four slide bolts click. Wow. He really is locking us in. A single four foot florescent bulb suddenly relieves the pitch blackness. There are three heavy, square-legged chairs on either side of the door wall and they are securely bolted down. The only other thing in this bare-walled prison is a lidded, oval metal bucket about two feet high. It’s against the far wall.
Rog and Renae come to me and Scott to introduce themselves. I don’t hear what they say as we shake hands — my eyes only see his bulging slacks or her loose tits in her tank top. Self, stop it! As I wander the room looking for secret access panels or cameras, I wonder what we are going to do in here for a full day. The others search the room too and chatter about how boring this room will be in an hour and other trivia I couldn’t care less about.
After an hour, a speaker above us suddenly crackles loudly. It whines, screeches and smooths out as it carries Carl’s detached voice. He informs us that the bucket at the other end of the room is our shared toilet until we leave. What!? Everyone gets to watch me use it? Carl tells us that Rog is a math wiz and we will shortly need that skill. He says the experiment includes a lie, or two, and is meant to stress us. He will be our clock and announce an hourly chime. We hear him say one hour has passed. He adds that we may divide the full $30,000 among all survivors, if there are any. What the hell does that mean? Finally, he tells us that the first lie is we will be in the room for thirty hours, not twenty-four and Rog can calculate what the means in a room this size. -click-
They all crowd around Roger, demand what this means and expect an immediate answer. He pulls a felt pen out of his pocket, but sees no paper to scribble on so he feels the wall. That will do. I pace the room as the others crowd Roger. I stare at Renae’s sexy legs so nicely exposed under her short, tight skirt. I’m in my sports shorts and a tank top while Tara is in a flowing, but heavy dress. At mid thigh, her hot legs are the most hidden. We could team up on Renae ... Wait! What are they saying about the room?
Rog wrote on the wall, (9000 cu ft x .03 co2) / (6 people x 1.7 cu f co2 per hr) = 26.47 hours. He says that’s when people start dying, if not before. That can’t be right! What kind of bull is this? Are they going to let us die? I watch people angrily poking fingers at each other and point at me. They get loud; I walk away. Just two minutes of total silence later and the crowd roars again.
I walk to the tub, lift the clean lid and pause to look at the angry group. They barely notice as I push down my shorts and panties and pause again before squatting and relieving my liquid tensions. I stand and loudly slam the lid so they will all look at me and see me half naked. Once they have a good look, I pull up my shorts and join them. No one comments on my exposure. Good!
Renae asks if I saw any TP. I shake my head, no. Carl suddenly answers, via speaker, that there are four rolls behind the tub. So! He can hear us. I wonder if he can see us too and caught my show. He announces hour two is done. -click- The group huddles without me. Are they blaming me for this mess? What is Roger saying? (9000x3%) / (5x1.7) = 31.76 hours and ONLY one of us must die. Seriously? He says we have to be hugely ZEN to make it that far ... and heat will soon be a problem!
“Well, friends, we can ease the heat problem somewhat like this.” I whip off my top and bra and toss them under a chair. No one is impressed by my small tits. “Next?” I drop my shorts and panties again, this time as they all watch, and I toss them aside too. Tara smiles and drops her heavy dress then pulls off her bra. With her heavy tits free, she pushes off her panties as she makes her gorgeous tits sway in chaos for us. I never tire of that beautiful body.
We stare at Renae to join us, naked. She backs away slowly, hands up in defense. My Scott gets behind her and pulls her wrists over her head. She struggles as he tells her she must get naked too while Tara and I unbutton her blouse and tight skirt. I remove her bra and am shocked by how full her massive tits are and hungrily pleased by how thick and tall her nipples are. I cup and squeeze a breast as I nibble on her other nipple. I just can’t help myself.
Tara struggles with the snug skirt and finally lets it drop. Despite her exposed, shapely tits, Renae looks so innocent in her juvenile white cotton panties with sky-blue spots. The obvious camel toe and growing wet spot betray her protestations. I cup her mons and the wet spot triples in size as I trace her labia. She sighs; I sigh then pull her panties off. Mmm, beautiful! Scott slides her top past her hands and I toss him her panties. As her hunky husband watches, Scott sniffs then licks her gusset and sighs at the divine scent and taste.
Roger is all smiles and says something about being birds of a feather. Carl chimes in; another hour has passed. Renae points at the men and insists they strip too - for cooling reasons. They all quickly strip to their under clothes. Tom is in tight briefs that strain to contain his sizeable, swollen manhood. The others port tented boxers. Roger shifts and his impressive, uncut member charges out of the slot in the boxers. We all stare as its hood vanishes, hands free. He thrusts his hips to further expose his nearly foot-long weiner and it curves slightly up and pulses.
Tom is impressed and intimidated so he removes his boxers and pulls up his sac to emphasize his stiff eight inches. He looks good and I recall he tastes good too. Before Scott can react, Renae leaps at him, pulls his dick over his briefs and wrestles his undies off. I guess she’s entitled to handle my man since we both handled her. Now come here, sweetie, and handle me too. I bump against her bare ass to entice her and she takes the bait. First fiercely cupping and fingering my wet hole, then tenderly finger banging me as she jerks my husband. We each pinch a nipple and make her moan loudly. As Scott starts to shake, she takes him deeply into her mouth and ingests all his cum.
Meanwhile, Tara is stroking Tom as she pulls Roger’s boxers off. She pulls his balls free and stokes him too. As her breathing gets faster, she swallows Tom then licks and sucks Roger’s bishop. Tom cums quickly and she swallows every drop. We all watch as she tries to swallow Roger’s hefty meat. She’s stroking him with both hands and licking his sweet pre-cum.
Renae gets under her and eats her soaked pussy and sucks her rigid clit. Her wide-open legs and pussy arouse Tom so he kneels and fills her wet hole. I move behind Roger and lick his balls then rim his ass. As he gets more aroused, I push a finger into his ass and twist it until I hit and milk his prostate. Though I love being on the other end of that, I now allow him to feed Tara. I know I can have him anytime now. He fills her mouth; she squirts slightly into Renae’s mouth; her spasms get Tom to fill her pussy and they all collapse. Carl chimes another hour has passed.
After several minutes rest, Roger gasps that wasn’t a wise use of our air. The co2 levels may now kill us all in less than twenty-four hours and there is little margin for survival even if someone dies immediately. We agree there are two urgent questions ... Who dies? And how?
Roger says he has military training and can kill someone with just a thumb, in several ways - all of them quick, quiet and painless. So he thinks he’s the executioner and safe from death? Tom reminds us that he had the same training. So who is to die?
Renae suggests we choose by chance. Maybe she can write a number on her palm - between one and a hundred. We all write a number in that range on our palms and the closest to her number is the executioner, the furthest is the lamb. Tom screamed out ‘Why you?’ They bickered about the rules and kept burning our air. Minutes pass.