Complimentary Masks

A buzzer sounded, and red lights flicked on in the ceiling. 'Now recording for subjects Christina-Beta-FC1 and Steven-Beta-MD1.' A voice said. 'Begin.'

Steven was on her in a flash, grasping her knee and descending over her quickly. She gasped, giggling as the male she had once known as Steven leant down, inhaling her scent. He sniffed at her, his head moving lower until he was bent over, breathing in her musk. When at last he straightened up, his cock seemed to have grown even further still. His eyes hardened, zeroed in on Christina - and where her stupefied brain could only think to giggle and say small words, his seemed not to know how to speak at all. Instead, Steven just thrust himself forwards, finding, parting and pressing into Christina in one hard pump that rocked them both upwards on the bed.

Christina gasped deeply, her enlarged lips parting easily as her soaked, puffed pussy swallowed up the massive member, taking it further and further, deeper and deeper until she felt she surely must bottom out - but he just kept going, sliding himself along her slick insides until all however-many-inches of girthy, massive manhood was buried inside her, aided, though she did not know it, by internal modifications that had been occurring alongside her external ones, her uterus having shrunk further out of the way, her inner walls extending and expanding to provide a thicker, softer, longer vaginal canal capable of receiving a cock like this one.

Christina moaned in ecstasy as the cock stimulated her, and as he began to rut her furiously, she forgot all pretence of thought and simply wrapped her legs up around him to take the beating. It took her thirty seconds to quake in orgasm, but Steven didn't stop, grunting as he fucked her through her third squeezing orgasm, then her fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh, each one more blissfully mind-blowing than the last. At some point, even Christina's thoughts even gave up on the sex itself, and she simply existed in the intercourse, aware yet unthinking as the sex fucked her dulled mind as hard as Steven fucked her enlarged, engorged pussy.

When at last Steven came, he crammed himself into his partner and ejaculated for so long that his semen began to bubble out of the corners of her body, each pump pushing more into a space that was already overfull. He came for three minutes, his ejaculation lasting so long that a puddle of cum pooled beneath Christina's ass, hot and sticky. As she shuddered through her eighth mindless, blissful orgasm, Christina just rode the high, not knowing what was going on until the lights switched off and the veiny length withdrew from her body, still impossibly long and thick despite the shrinkage that was now finally occurring. Eventually, Christina returned to consciousness enough to sit up, her tingling body still thrilling with pleasure from head to toe, erogenous zones afire with buzzing energy.

'Good work.' A male voice said, holding a clipboard and looking at the bimbo-ified woman, lying spread and dripping on the mattress. 'You will be taken to your room to clean and rest before your next test. You have eighteen more observations to fulfil today.'

And Christina was led stupidly, dripping semen and sweat, from the room, down a soft aqua-blue corridor to a small room, where she was placed in a plastic-walled shower and handed soap. Eventually, she started to clean, her brain not really firing, until at long last the water shut off and she stepped out, seeing with surprise a towel hanging directly in front of her. Drying, she exited the room to see a bed before her, and with nothing else to do and little more to think, Christina simply tumbled inside, passing into a light sleep minutes later.

Christina would not move her car before it would receive a ticket; indeed, it would be the company that would move it, a designated staff member driving it into the underground carpark and out of sight, where it would remain for many more weeks.

Meanwhile, an attractive, blonde-haired woman strode through the front doors, not bothering to remove her sunglasses as she breezed by the greeter at the door. 'Care for a...' the woman began, but her query went unheard as the female strode towards the front counter, carrying an air of importance with her. Moments later, three more people followed her inside--two men and a woman, the men carrying camera equipment, boom poles, microphones and floodlights and pushing wheeled carts before them, the woman carrying two large makeup bags--hurrying to keep up with her.

The blonde approached the counter and raised her sunglasses to eye the receptionist.

'Care for a...' The puffy-lipped woman began, but the blonde cut her off with a voice like ice, authoritative and firm.

'I am Grace David from One News. We have word that this company is effectively kidnapping people to act as "participants" of some kind in your clinical trials, which is completely against about eighteen laws, ranging from trafficking and trickery right through to human rights violations and homeland security. You've got about three hours before police rock up at the doors and start pointing guns your way, so either way your job is fucked. If I were you, I would get your boss out here yesterday to speak to us so that at least when we run the story, he can do you a favour and claim it was all his doing. Do you understand me?'

Absolutely confused, the woman beneath the mask just baulked up at the blonde, sitting there for several long moments before eventually standing, her generous body wobbling as she quickly left the desk, presumably to fetch someone in charge. Half-smiling humourlessly, the reporter, Grace David, turned to lean on the counter, looking sleek and professional in her long jacket and suit-like shirt. She looked about herself, taking in the lavish waiting area, the well-dressed staff, and the masks adorning every face in the room.

'Looks like these guys still wear masks,' she said to her team as they milled around her. 'I guess that makes sense; look, who knows what kind of sick experiments they're running in here. We don't want to risk bringing infections into any areas where people might actually be compromised, so let's at least wear them until Kidnapping Dick gets out here to face the music. The company might deserve it, but whoever they have stuck in here doesn't need us making their lives any worse. Do you guys have any?'

Neither her cameraman nor her grip had one, and the makeup artist shook her head after searching her pockets. 'I usually keep some in my bag, but they're buried in the middle, and I don't think I can pull out my stuff here.' She shrugged. Nodding her assertion, expecting to have to move again soon to step into someone's office or head up to a clinic floor, Grace tipped her head over the counter and spied an innocuous-looking box of regular blue masks. Taking out four, she handed them out to her party, and, one by one, they each strapped them onto their faces.

Ten minutes later, Grace stepped out of a blue-tinged lift alongside her makeup artist, blinking and giggling as she gripped two huge, bouncing breasts in her hands, the diminutive makeup artist similarly enhanced behind her. Across the floor, the two men were at that moment stepping into a room to have the erections that each man gripped in his fist measured and imaged, before they would then be loosed upon the girls, their performances closely observed.

Beta experiments GC3, VC2, HM5 and JM2--Grace, Vicky, Henry and Jackson--had just signed up for their new, complimentary, experimental trials.

THE END