I really shouldn't have let Carin go to the restroom alone.
She has a habit of getting distracted by something shiny -- or someone -- and not coming back for hours at a time. Or for what seems like hours, anyway; the advent of the cell phone has made tracking her down much easier. A far cry from the college days when I'd find her sitting on the floor of Suncoast watching the last half of some unidentifiable anime title ... or find her kneeling on the floor of the Service Merchandise dressing room, servicing the merchandise of one of the saleswomen.
Today, however, Carin wasn't answering the cell, so after I'd exhausted all possible opportunities for small talk with the pretty Hawaiian lady running the lollipop stand (who either missed or politely ignored all of my advances) I bade her Adieu. I don't think she was pleased that I failed to buy any of her wares, though I certainly had offered to sample some of them. I know I wasn't too subtle ... I just know it. She couldn't possibly be straight. Could she?
At any rate, the nearest ladies' room was near the Sears, so I headed in that direction, all the while looking for stores and hotties who would catch her eye and prevent her return to me. I checked White House | Black Market (she claims she just loves the clothes, but I've seen the way she looks at the redhead behind the counter) -- no dice. No redhead either.
The same could be said for her other haunts: the aforementioned Suncoast, and Rampage, and The Bikini Store ... I admit I stayed extra long there, surreptitiously eyeing a busty blonde who evidently did not need any help shaving, given the brevitude of her bottoms. I don't think she noticed, but her boyfriend looked suspicious and herded her out fairly quickly. He needn't have bothered; I don't try to seduce straight women, as a rule. Of course, convincing them that they're bi is completely fair play, and I refuse to feel guilty about it, despite the tsk-tsking I get from my male friends (and they only complain because I refuse to let them watch).
I finally got to the rest room and it was under construction, of all things. Looked like it had been for days ... which meant she must have gone to another one in the mall. Which meant she could be anywhere. I tried the cell phone again and was unsurprised when I got her voice mail. I left a message haranguing her about not answering her phone and telling her to get back to me. I tried to keep it light, but I was getting angrier by the minute and I know it probably entered the tone of my voice.
I wandered over to one of the closer restrooms, by Barnes and Noble. It was mostly devoid of life, and completely devoid of Carin. I left and hit redial. No answer...
... yet I heard her phone ringing somewhere nearby. Or one with the same ringtone, anyway. I hung up and tried again. The ringtone stopped a second after I dropped the connection, and started up again when I called back. But where was it coming from?
I followed my ears to a nearby storefront, walled almost completely over with "Pardon Our Construction-- Coming Soon to the West Valley Mall: Candle's Place" signs. I could hear the ringer coming from behind the plywood. I made my way over to the other side of the storefront, where the edge of the wall didn't quite close the seam with the doorframe, and peered inside. It was too dark to make out any details, but I could see bare concrete floors and lots of debris from whatever it was the workers were not working on today.
The ringer had stopped. "Carin?" I called into the crack. There was no response. I dialed the phone again, and this time it went straight to voicemail. Someone had shut the phone off. Panicking, I pried at the edge of the wall, and it came free easier than I thought. Some other customers wandering the mall looked at me suspiciously as I grappled with something clearly meant to not be opened by other than Authorized Personnel, but I ignored them and went inside. Doubtless one of them would tell Security. Hell, it's what I would have done.
Hell, it's what I should be doing was my last thought before the hand placed the cloth over my mouth and nose and everything faded to black.
I came to in an uncomfortable position, and unable to move properly. I was strapped naked to a table which managed to be halfway between medical and scientific equipment; it looked clinical, but there was a stainless steel arch which went from the head of the table to its foot, bristling with instruments and spotlights. My arms were stretched out above my head, and my legs were stretched in the opposite direction, keeping me taut. Neither arms nor legs were capable of much movement, as all were affixed to the steel frame with leather bands, locked in place with screws or something.
I was not in the mall.
An attractive brunette wearing nothing but a skin-tight silvery bodystocking stood in the corner, and apparently had noticed me stir. "Hey," I yelled to her. "What the fuck is going on? Where am I?"
I continued this tirade and she completely ignored me, lifting a phone, dialing a number, and speaking quietly into the receiver. She listened for a moment and then replied, almost zombie-like, "Yes mis-tress."
Mistress? What the hell had I gotten myself into, here? She approached me with mechanical movements, checked my bonds, then spun on her heel and walked out the nearby door in the same fashion.
She never once met my gaze. Or flinched at the many names I'd called her-- and many of them were doozies. It was as if she couldn't even hear or see me, apart from the parts she'd been told to examine.
I pulled with my shoulder muscles, but apparently the brunette had done her job: the straps were firm and tight, not giving an inch and not providing me with an opportunity to slip out of them. It was not yet time to start panicking, I reassured myself. Not quite yet.
The door opened, then, and in walked a woman in a suit, flanked on the one side by the naked-except-for-lycra girl from earlier and on the other by her fraternal twin. The central figure, possessed of a cool, calm beauty, smiled widely at me, removing a case from an inside pocket of her jacket. There was a biohazard symbol on the case, and she opened it to reveal a small vial filled with a grayish powder.
Now was the time to start panicking.
"Who are you?" I demanded, but I could tell from the amusement in her eyes that she knew it was all bluster-- how could she not? I was virtually immobile, tendons aching with the strain ... what was I going to to? Wiggle at her?
"She's even nicer than the other one," the woman commented to no one in particular. Certainly her companions gave no indication they had comprehended her speech.
I started to yell again, but she shushed me. "Would you like to be gagged as well? There's no one here but myself and my two 'bots, and we're on a substantial amount of acreage. So screaming will buy you nothing. Now, are you going to cooperate? ... I thought so."
"What are you going to do to me?"
"You and your friend, my dear, are going to benefit science."
"What does that mean?"
I could see she was getting a little distracted looking at my naked form. "Hmmm... ?"
"What do you mean we're going to 'benefit science'?"
She laughed, cupping one hand around one breast and slowly laving her tongue around the other. Her other hand roamed lower.
"Unnnngh..." I responded, struggling against the leather bindings, and started lubricating down where her hand was.
"I can give the treatment orally, of course, but as long as it gets into your system ... well, I prefer to give it this way." She circled my clit with her fingers until I was damp, then one finger pressed ... something ... into me. Something fizzy. She pulled out her hand and took off the gloves, discarding them.
She came by and stroked my cheek; her fingers smelled of latex and not my pussy. "I know, my dear, it's scary to feel so helpless. This won't hurt, much. The nanos do their work very quickly. When they're done ... well, by then the cords won't be useful anymore, anyway. See you later."
She turned as she reached the door. "Oh, by the way ... my name is Gina." She blew me a kiss with her too-perfect lips and was gone.
The fizzing began to spread throughout my womb, then down into my legs and up my torso. My hips were still rotating a little in the memory of what Gina had been doing, and the feeling of the "nanos" was definitely a little arousing ... but the restraints kept me from squeezing my thighs together, as delicious as that might have felt.
It wasn't long before I felt something ... else ... begin to happen. A slackness to my limbs; he leather clasps seemed to ease their persistent tug on my body. I thought at first that they were loosening ... but then I realized it was me that was loosening. All over my body, my muscles were warping, changing ... and so were my bones. There was more flex there, I could feel, and when I tried to twist my ankle around the flex of the bones in my calf was almost visible. What the hell did she do to me?
It wasn't long before I could twist myself into all sorts of new shapes ... or ... well, I could have if I wasn't tied down. That gave me an idea ... with the extra leverage and the loosening from whatever had been done to me, I could possibly get my ankle-straps up to my hands, and then I could undo them and get free. There was a self-latching clasp, of course, but even my toes were extra-dextrous now, and I unlatched it. I pushed hard with the muscles of my ass, pulling with my abs, and with a jerk which should have hurt my shoulders a lot worse, my legs freed themselves and shot across the curve of the arch above me.
Um ... overshot, really, unfortunately. Now I was in far worse straits, as my ankles had continued past my wrists. I heard the shing of the foot clasp re-latching itself on the steel arch. The foot straps were now actually lower than the hand straps and I was face to ... well, that was an interesting development. I guess I'd always wondered what it would be like if I could do that, and with my new more-flexible bone structure, I could just reach my tongue past the little tuft of hair there and ... wow. WOW! I'd certainly tasted myself before, on my fingers and on the lips and tongues of girlfriends ... it's a warm, mildly tangy flavor that's arousing in itself, and not just because of what it implies about what your girlfriend's been doing recently.
I'd tasted myself before, but never directly from the source.
The angle was awkward, and impossible for someone who hadn't had her entire system of bones and joints overworked by wayward nanotechnology, but I found myself unable to continue the struggle to break free without taking some time to ... explore the possibilities.
How long did I have? I admit it might have been easier to think clearly had my nose not been able to smell my arousal from centimeters away, and had I not continued to tongue my own clitoris ... a light stroke here, a firm press there...
"Uggghhhh..." I groaned into my crevices. I urged my newly-loosened limbs to stretch further still ... to the limits of their flexibility, and found that I could now get my face good and in there, get my cheeks nice and cummy with juice while I alternated between tonguing deep into my cleft and swirling the moisture around my button. It was delicious (in more than one sense), and only the cramped position of my abdominal muscles prevented me from cumming in under a minute. Oh, God, the feeling, though! Better than mere masturbation, better even than Sara (who was the best) because I knew exactly what I wanted, and exactly when, and how soft and how ... uhhhhhh hard...
My orgasm was painful because my hips wanted to move and there was no way they could; my tummy flexed against itself in ways it was never designed to. But I wouldn't trade that feeling of eating my own pussy for anything. Forget lesbianism, I might just become a narcissist and be done with it!
I blacked out for a while. It's not like my lungs had a lot of room to expand in that position, so I guess I was out of oxygen. When I came to, my cunt-coated face was a mess, and my pussy was looking a little the worse for wear; my proximity (coupled with the knowledge of exactly whose red lipstick that was smeared on my clit) almost made me try for a second round, but my head was a little clearer now and I knew I had wasted enough time on self-pleasure. I needed to work my way out of this apparatus before that crazy bitch Gina came back.
My left ankle now had a bit more play to it ... Hmmm ... perhaps that self-feast hadn't been such an impractical idea after all. In the throes of my excitement I'd apparently ripped the leather thong loose from the nail. My skin was chafed and even bleeding a little, but I could ignore the pain if I had to and pull.
It was coming loose, but it was taking time and I was feeling tired. The bad little angel that sits on my shoulder and whispers naughty things to me when I have a moral decision to make (I call her Michelle) suggested that I just take a deep breath (mmmmm ... yummy... ) and get my ankle the rest of the way loose in the same way I got it into its current state: self-cunnilingus. The good little angel that sits on my other shoulder elbowed Michelle out of the way and merely reminded me that my second (and third, and fourth) orgasms are never as strong as my first, and that I should try another way.
"Thank you, Alei," I told her as she blew me a kiss and disappeared (hand in hand with Michelle; those two were close, despite their differences) and I kept pulling fiercely for a long time. When it felt like my legs would fall off, and the sweat from my exertions had made even my slit seem dry by comparison ... the strap finally came loose with a loud SNAP.
Freedom had never felt so good-- and this was only one leg's worth. I took a minute to stretch my thigh and calf muscles and rotate my ankle ... wow. I could now twist the ankle almost all the way around in both directions. It was bizarre ... but somehow liberating. Doubtless my opinion was biased by the fringe benefits.
By bending my right knee, I stretched myself into range so my freed foot could reach over to the strap which held the other. With both feet, I had the leverage to...
The door opened, and a tinkle of girlish laughter assaulted me. Gina was back, and so were the 'bots.
"Well, dear, I am impressed wth your escape attempt. I must admit, your friend Carin didn't manage to get herself into such a predicament in her feeble attempts. But I dosed her after you, so maybe she's already trying to match you. I suppose you're ready? Steph, Lee: unbind her and bring her to the south bedroom."
Each silver-clad machine-girl took one of my wrists and guided me to the door. My arms and legs tingled in their newfound freedom as proper circulation was restored. I thought I could make a break for it, but my limbs were too floppy to move properly, yet. Plus, I wanted to see where they were taking me ... to Carin?
No such luck on that count. Carin was nowhere to be found. The south bedroom was a storeroom of sorts, with a large number of chemicals on shelves, and on the floor, and apparently in several drawers ... There was a gloriously decadent bed, and a large carved wood chair. On the bed were Gina's clothes. On the chair was Gina. Naked and spread open, nipples at attention. She looked scorchingly sexy.
"Come here, slave," she ordered, and the girls let go of me. I fell to my knees.
"I watched a video of you, from when you first woke up. The things you said to Stephabot ... You have quite a vocabulary. You will serve me, and serve me well, with that filthy mouth of yours. But perhaps not quite as you expected." The way she was talking was really making my pussy drip, despite the fact that I'd pleasured it so recently. I loathed this woman ... but couldn't deny how she was making me feel...
She leaned forward, cupped the back of my skull in her hands, and pulled my face to her swampy slit. "Eat me, slave. Eat me until I cum in your mouth, and you drink down every drop."
What could I do, in that situation? What would you do?
Eventually she left me there, taking Leanne with her. Through a haze of pussy and exhaustion, I heard her instructing the 'bot-girl to get dressed "in street clothes" and go to the mall to pick up my car. With a jingle of keys and a few footsteps she was gone, and Gina left the area for parts of the house unknown.
Stephabot had apparently not been given strict instructions on what to do with me, or what not to let me do, for that matter. She stared off into space as I opened drawer after drawer, searching for ... aha! I didn't know exactly what I was doing, but I'd read enough detective novels to know that Chloroform was precisely the label I was looking for. I looked for a cloth of some kind and finally settled on Gina's panties, still a sopping mess on the floor. I doused them with the contents of the bottle, turning my head aside so the fumes wouldn't overwhelm me, then walked over near where Stephabot was sitting. She still gave no sign that I'd violated any of her directives; hopefully that would continue.
"Mistress says I may have fun with you."
"Mis-tress left this unit no such com-mand."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I must obey mistress, and I was hoping you would help me but..." I drew the panties across her nose and mouth, pressing firmly, and grabbing the back of her skull to keep her in place.