Illianya Ch. 03: The Session

Chapter 3. Illianya, Exploration and temptation

Her mind was a swirling current with tumbling waves of emotion. Her head pounded. The walk had not helped calm her. She felt her stomach turn, which was shortly followed by a loud gurgle.

Illianya peered down the length of the passage-still some distance to walk. Her legs were beginning to feel sore. Another gurgle.

Relenting to the complaints of her stomach she hopped the barrier for the pedestrian conveyor and almost lost her balance upon landing. After she regained her composure (and nervously glancing around to see if anyone bared witness), she rested her weight on the conveyor railing, giving her aching soles a rest.

With a soft snap, she flipped open her satchel and pulled out a small meal bar. Illianya stared out of the curved windows of the sky-bridge as she snacked, watching the turbulent landscape of Ferto.

Pure white, dunes of snow cresting like waves, covered Ferto's surface. Skeletons of petrified fauna barely breached the surface, their petrified brown carcasses a constant reminder of the harsh conditions outside the university walls. The sea of white extended as far as the eye could see. Not that that was very far, though.

Smog from centuries of extraction facilities, refineries, and failed terra-forming attempts, hung heavy in the atmosphere. Thick swirling tendrils crept out of its mass, attempting to consume the campus, kept at bay by a swarm of cleansers that patrolled the sky. The massive hexagonal drones were burned soot grey from their duties-their flashing bright green operating lights kept them from blending into the pollution.

The distant glimmer of towering mega-structures in the harsh mid-day light shone through the storm. On the horizon was another pocket of habitation; the flourishing corporate towers of Gorryntiak, beacons of civilization in the otherwise dreary wasteland.

Spotting the trademark shape of the Yei-Meano corporate tower, Illianya sighed, longingly. It had always been her dream to work at their R&D facility. Ever since she had seen the magnificent beauty, the flawless form, the knee-weakeningly provocative fifth-gen frigate, Fujin.

The mere thought of the technical marvels held behind those mirrored walls made her heart race. The drives she could see. build. test. The overwhelming power of the advanced tech was enough to make her wet. Well, not literally, but in her mind, nothing could top the majesty of Yei-Meano's masterpieces.

Another sigh. "Haven't even left campus yet. Maybe I can convince some people to take a trip out there during the term-break... no point going if it's just for a day."

As she ripped a large bite from the bar a drone skimmed overhead and raced past the Medical-Sciences: Biomedical Department (MD:BD for short). The rising vapors spewing from a bright orange metro exhaust stack was caught in its turbulence, leaving a twisting spiral of steam following its wake. She craned her head against the glass to get a better view of her destination.

Three ivory-white cylinders, three times as wide as they were tall, rose from the tundra, positioned like the points of a triangle. Although the genetics division-the building she was on-track to-was the smallest, it still eclipsed its siblings at this angle.

Large alloyed support struts rung the bottom of each. A forest of antenna and communication arrays sprouted from their crowns; billowing insulation and protection cloth clinging desperately to the device frames. Similarly wrapped tubes and instruments winded along their exteriors like bulging veins.

Rows of equally spaced rectangular windows, black-tinted and palladium reinforced, marked each floor. Heating fields casted a warm glow from the edges, creating an orange vignette in each window. Networks of transportation bridges, like the one she was in, connected the department to the closer complex buildings. Obscured at this angle, she knew the tallest of the triplets sported a massive crimson red caduceus that ran the full height of its front exterior, and the CC passed along its base.

She scarfed down the remainder of the bar as the conveyor reached the buildings rear entrance-alloy-plated doors painted bright orange, a stark contrast to the buildings white color scheme. Neatly gliding off the walkway as it terminated, she strolled into the facility.

A hiss of hydraulics and rush of cool, chemically sterilized, air greeted her. Checking her watch to make sure she wasn't late, she shuffled down the corridor, peeking curious glances into each teaching lab and demonstration room.

Doing a double take as she passed one, she peered through viewing glass of the door and spotted Tracy. Perfect posture and singularly focused. Tracy missed her hurried wave, but the girl beside her noticed and gave her a gentle nudge. Tracy returned a surprised smile and waved, but her smile was immediately replaced with shock, eyes snapping to the front of the class, blushing with embarrassment.

Illianya bounced away from the door, making it to the staircase doorway just as she heard the door slam open behind her and a shrill voice yell "YOU'RE INTERRUPTING MY CLASS!"

Illianya giggled as she slid into the heart of MD:BD, the massive center staircase. At least she got some revenge for Tracy accidentally denying her last night. Resting both arms on the protective railing while she waited for the next carriage, she gazed wide-eyed around the facility; the scale of the Med buildings always amazed her.

The stairway, designed in the shape of a double helix, ran the height of the building, all 12 floors up and 6 floors down. Each upper floor was at least 20 feet, the insane amount of wiring, heating, life-support systems, and who knows what other advanced technology filling 8 feet of space between each floor. The bottom 6 floors, burrowing deep into the planet, were each at least 100 feet.

Passenger carriages glided on rails below the steps. The above ground floors were dedicated to teaching halls, demonstration rooms, the Biomedical library, study centers, and administration. Laboratories and their relevant support facilities occupied the below-ground floors.

Jumping off at sub-level 3, she was happy to note that, as expected, the floor was almost eerily quiet. Knowing the people usually doing these studies, they tended to not leave the laboratories unless necessary. Tracy had told her that the late-years running the tests convert the offices into temporary living spaces, rather than make trips back to the dorms.

She rushed to the laboratory she was expected at and swiped her id card. The door rotated upwards and an asexual automated voice greeted her. Two doors were at the end of the hall, the left marked Participants, the right, sporting numerous bio-readers, marked Staff.

Illianya entered through the participant door into the changing room. The changing room was short, lockers marked with numbers on the right wall and two short aluminum sitting benches lined alongside them. On the left wall were the five cleansing station entrances, allowing participants to relieve or clean themselves before and after a session. Rows of recessed ceiling lights bathed the room with calming red rays. As the door swung open fully, her heart dropped when she saw it wasn't empty.

Its sole occupant, a pale-skinned girl, was half nude and struggling to pull her hoodie off over her head. Her skin appeared almost alabaster under the light, visible pink undertones highlighted the curves of her body. Illianya guessed that her breasts were barely b-cup. The small globes impossibly perky and jiggling slightly with each frustrated twist.

The girl looked to be about 5 foot 6 inches and had little fat on her frame. Not skinny, but not athletic either. Just average.

As Illianya listened to her moans of effort, a wave of heat rushed to her groin. Illianya's eyes traced hungrily down the mystery girl's body as she twisted around. Following the line of the girl's spine, an arrow, capped with dimples of Venus, directed Illianya's eye-line to a plump posterior. Two taut cheeks bounced as the girl stomped her feet in frustration. Hesitantly, Illianya raised her right hand, and took a step forward.

Hearing the patter of Illianya's soles against the alloy tiling, the girl spun around. "Is someone there?" she ventured, her wavering voice muffled beneath the folds of the over-large hoodie.

The girl fully revealed, Illianya was filled with lust; she had never seen a more glorious mound. An innie, the mons was clean-shaven, save for the faint peach-fuzz, and engorged. The blushing petal made even more enticing by the little goose-bumps forming across her skin.

A shiver of excitement racked Illianya's body, followed almost immediately by a sharp squeeze from her left hand. The mist from her head cleared slightly and she realized her left arm was shoved into her leggings. Even though barely a few moments had passed, her hand must've been going crazy on Trevor's under-carriage. She took a deep breath, willing the lust-riddled thoughts from her mind. The girl repeated the question louder, fear lining her voice.

"Here, let me help you with that," Illianya soothed, attempting to calm the girl. She took another step forward and her eyes flicked to the girl's chest. Trembling ivory breasts, now dimpled with goosebumps, flushing a faint crimson from exertion. Her flesh vibrated in response to her racing heartbeat. Her small nipples were fully erect, shaking in the chilly air of the room; two vivid cherries resting delicately upon two enticing servings of whipped-cream.

Another flash of heat. Illianya's knees buckled as she took another step. Cursing her perverted brain, she collected herself, painfully aware of the damp spot slowly growing on her leggings.

She heard the girl stammering from beneath the hoodie. "No, no, please it's ok. Just leave me. Please, no. Stay away." The girl staggered backward, emitting soft squeaks of panicked effort, only managing to tangle herself further. The much-too-large hoodie tightening like a fabric python.

Illianya inched closer, eyeing the girl's bosom like a tiger waiting to strike. The girl pressed up against the cold metal of the locker and gasped, arching her back away from its frigid surface. Her breasts flung upward, nipples meeting Illianya's stare. Illianya pounced, her right hand outstretched.

It took all of her will not to grasp the girl's breasts and fondle the two petite pillows. Illianya settled for dragging her fingertip across the nipple, causing it to bounce back and forth like a spring door-stop.

The girl let out a soft whimper as Illianya's hand caught her sensitive tip, but, surprised, stopped moving when the hoodie was wrenched off her.

Familiar pink hair billowed from beneath, landing lightly across the girl's shoulders and draping over her breasts. Squeaking in surprise, the pink haired girl jumped, a flash of recognition crossing her face. Before Illianya could say anything, the girl bolted into cleansing station 4. The loud slam of the door reverberated through the small space, followed by the muted clicking of it sealing shut.

Illianya stood frozen in place, blinking in surprise, for a few moments. Then reality crashed down upon her as the blindfold of lust dissipated. Slowly. It was still there but beaten down by rising disgust. She tossed the hoodie in the open locker and flopped down onto the bench, sagging her head into her hand.

"The fuck did I almost do?" she sobbed, tears welling up in her eyes. "Get it together, get it to-fucking-gether!" each syllable was punctuated with by pounding a fist against the bench. "Deep breaths, deep breaths." Behind her, she heard rushing water as the shower flicked on. The pink-haired girls nude form flashed in her mind. The storm clouds of lust reared its ugly face again.

Frustrated, Illianya jumped up and flung open her locker; it was labelled S198002. They keep all the gifted test subjects rather void of personality. A brutal reminder why the corporations really offer the gifted scholarship program. She bristled with anger at the thought.

"Yes. Okay, fuck them. Keep thoughts distracted." Angrily she stripped her jacket and tossed it into the locker. "Think about the mega's. They want to use people like you, the ones with powers, study them. You're just meat to those greedy assholes," her hands began to shake as she popped free the buttons of her shirt.

--

"All they want to do is use you, analyze what you can do and figure out how they can exploit it," her mother had cried after Illianya had told her that she had been accepted at UGC on a conditional gifted-scholarship.

"At least then I could do something, though!' she had screamed back. "I hate being trapped. Confined and restricted to the suffocating crawlspaces of this junker. Nothingness and empty space. No-one but cheap drifter fucking creepos that Dad hires to work the grinders. I'm sick of just repairing all the shit they break. I want to do more, get out, interact with people my age, in person. I don't want to spend my whole life chained to this rig!"

"It's not safe though," her mother had whined. "Surely there's something else outside the ring, your father can pay for it, you don't need to take the scholarship, please."

--

Illianya hesitated on the last button of her shirt. Her mother had been right. It was slimy how they treated gifteds. The facade of acceptance, true colors being revealed behind closed doors. But... she did need the scholarship.

Sure, they had had a recent struck of luck, and were doing well for roid-rippers, but her father would've gone into debt trying to pay the tuition for any Imperial outer-ring uni. The scholarship for gifteds was the only way she could afford the degree and get an education she needed to get even considered at the Yei-Meano corporation. Plus, that way her parents could save the money to help support her sister through university.

A violent buzzing from her watch caused her to flinch and bang her elbow against the locker door. Wincing in pain, she tapped the screen with her nose. An alarm was going off, reminding her that she was supposed to be on the laboratory floor currently.

No time to nurse her sore arm. Struggling to rip the shirt off one handed, she feverishly kicked her sneaks into the locker, thudding into the back of the locker with two loud bangs.

She undid the front latch of her bra with one hand. It fell loose, and she kicked it into the locker before it hit the ground. Bouncing on one leg she struggled to pull the leggings loose.

When she finally succeeded in wriggling out of them, a glistening string of grool stretched with the retreating fabric. She cringed with embarrassment at the reminder of her bodies flood of arousal.

Wrestling them all the way off, the clear strand of her juices snapped and landed loosely against her leg. She flung the last of her clothes into the locker, slammed both her's and the girl's lockers closed, and rushed into the closest cleansing station.

The cleansing stations were small, just barely wide enough for a broad-shouldered man to walk through without touching either side. They were separated into three sections.

First, the washroom. A sink recessed into the left wall, and a urinal angled besides a toilet recessed in the opposite. The entire space stank of chemical cleaners.

The second was the shower. Pretty standard. Over-top shower head, liquid soap and shampoo dispensers. Basic.

The third was the suiting station. A depressed mold of the basic human form was carved into the rotating wall opposite the entrance.

Illianya quickly relieved herself, making sure to let the shower run and heat up. Quickly wiping herself down, keeping her makeup protected to avoid ruining it, Illianya cleaned off any remaining traces from her morning activity and washed the over-excitement from her glistening vagina.

It took every ounce of her will to keep the overwhelming feelings of desire at bay as she rubbed along the inside of her thighs and along her lips, the peach-fuzz bristling as she washed herself. With her left arm she rotated the lever, shrieking as the cold water rained daggers across her skin.

Teeth chattering, but level-headed she turned the shower off and waited, as the automated system forced a vortex of air through the confined space. Dry, but still cold, she slipped into the suiting station.

Illianya stepped backwards into the mold, arms angled slightly from her sides, and clicked her ankles and wrists into the bracers. She screwed her eyes shut. She hated this part. Feeling a brief rush of motion, the device rotated, and the other half of the mold clicked into place.

Below her neck she felt the mold expand, conforming to her body. An uncomfortable increase in temperature tracked down her body as the outer layer attached to her form, wrapping her body in a skin-tight bodysuit. A loud whirring noise caused her to scrunch her eyes more tightly closed.

Hundreds of sharp pricks raked her skin. Numerous blood samples were taken, and various injections given, things she's never seen results from. Temporary monitoring devices and other micro-machines implanted, which she had been told are either extracted after each test or dissolve into her system.

Her skin itched and stung. Four loud clicks. Light. Taking a wobbly step out of the prepping chamber she found the suit distractingly tight. She could feel the elasticity of the material straining at her hips and upper chest. "Over these last few sessions, the suits seem to get tighter and tighter'," Illianya groaned.

Illianya exited into a hallway. A staircase to her right lead to the research space below. Opposite the cleansing station doors was a glass wall, allowing a view out over the laboratory testing floor.

The labs were the size of small freighter hangars, with countless reposition-able elements to cater to whatever the study required. Peering over to the far wall of the lab she glared at the operating crew quarters. The mirrored glass of the control room hid the staff from their lab rats.

A large, clear isolation cube sat on one side, roughly half the size of the hangar, wires snaking out from its base and into a litany of devices scattered around the floor.

On the other side, a conical isolation chamber emitted a steady hum. Thick tubes sprouted from the top of the metal coffin like messy clumps of hair. The tubes were connected to large pressurized containers, which in turn were connected to a couple dozen dark-tinted glass crates, lined against the far wall. She could see the exterior of the crates bending and buckling as something within pounded against them.

A speaker crackled to life above her. "We are waiting for you S198002. Do not make us wait."

"Fuck, I really need to clear my head. I can't risk pissing these people off,'" Illianya thought to herself, scoldingly. She jogged carefully down the stairs and sprinted across the room to the cube. The cacophony of frantic banging coming from the crates travelled easily, the acoustics of the large space making it sound as if they were right beside her.

"Focus on your destination S198002. We are behind schedule enough already" the voice said, blaring from the speakers and echoing throughout the room. Focusing her gaze on the floor, she quickly made her way to the cube.

Illianya hopped up five steps, up to the glass doorway, desperately restraining herself from staring at the other test. They did this sometimes, ran multiple gifted sessions in the same lab at the same time. She'd heard horror stories of those gifteds having to test the effects of their abilities against each other during the session.