The Twighlight Zone Ch. 04

"What is it you want?" I got off the floor, trying to arch my back to support my new chest, and succeeded only in making my new breasts jut straight out like silicon monsters. I felt like a stripper with a new boob job. The whole situation was completely unnerving.

"That's better. On Wednesdays, when you return home from work, you will find a box at your house. As soon as your wife leaves for her evening out, you will follow the directions in the box, and dress in the items you'll find within. You will activate the remote and attach the prosthetics, and dress in the clothes provided. The remote will be timed so that if you do not begin the operation by six-thirty, the pain will begin, and will progress until you are incapacitated. Any time after nine-thirty you may enter your code, and the prosthetics will deactivate and come off. Very simple, actually. One night a week for a few weeks, and you get to experience what most men would die for. Do we have an agreement?"

"I don't think I have a choice in the matter, do I?" She shook her head no, smiling all the while. "Then would you mind taking these off, so I may leave, and get back to the real world?"

"Why no, no problem. One other thing" she said. I groaned. "We can balloon nerve areas and concentrate them to points, so effects are magnified." She reached over and began caressing my new left breast. Sensations akin to a coming orgasms fogged my mind, and I saw the nipple become hard and erect. She smiled again, and stopped. "Thought you might like to know. By planning things carefully, I can enhance your most sensitive areas, or turn them off, or even give you all new ones. Isn't this going to be fun?" She tapped a number code into the remote and hit a red button. The remote hummed for a second and beeped. My new breasts shrank and with an audible sucking sound came off in Tara's hands. She put them on a table.

"One other small rule."

"Does this rule making ever end?"

She shot me a dirty look. "I don't want you to masturbate, at all. Sex with your wife is okay, but none by yourself. Your little device will let me know if you falter." Oh wonderful, I thought. I can't go two days without jacking off, let alone a week at a shot.

Tara handed me my clothes and, without saying a word, rushed me to the stairs. I passed a small hanging clock on the wall and realized why. Almost time for the wife to come home. I pulled on the shorts and rushed down two flights of stairs Her little lab had been in the attic. As she opened the front door she gave me a little kiss. "I like a nice smooth body to work with, so don't forget to shave your body clean. If you do it at least every other day, it isn't so bad. Let it go for a week, and the razor burn will keep you from wearing jeans for days. Same time, next week. I'll be looking forward to our next...game." She waved 'bye' in a very cordial manner.

I climbed into the car, and started rifling through the rest of my clothes looking for the car keys. Not only did I find them, but my wedding ring and my wallet also. I guess Tara would need to keep my ring for blackmail purposes when, in reality, she had commandeered my body instead. I started the car and rushed home, trying to dress on the way. Wednesday nights were not going to be boring for a while.

* * * * * * * * * *

Monday, May 13th

I haven't been able to concentrate well since last Wednesday. My wife noticed my freshly shaven body this morning and commented on it; I made up some silly and stupid reason about how read that it could help with my racquetball game. At dinner tonight she announced that she had finally decided to get in shape, and that aerobics class started tonight at the community center. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. While I was happy for her and for her commitment, it would mean even less time for us.

We now see each other only on weekends, in bed, and at dinner. Weeknight television together is a thing of the past. Our sex life seems to be suffering even more. The events of last week are starting to fade, though I have been sure to shave my body as I was told.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, May 15th - The first night

I sat in front of my computer and tapped away. Why hadn't I thought of doing this earlier?

+++ Welcome to The Baum-Dietrich Technologies Interconnect Program +++

+++ Please enter your passcode +++

I started my Creeper program. It was great for breaking into pornography sites if I didn't want to spend cash for a password.

***initiate password bypass function ***

+++ Passcode accepted +++

+++ Department? +++

research

+++ Baum-Dietrich Technologies Research and Developement Project Database +++

+++ Stockholder Press Release Information +++

search keywords neurotransmitter/neuro/Worthington

+++ Seventeen results. Press here for listing +++

+++ Information to follow +++

+++ Silkskin - a crystal based neuro-enhancing cloth, akin to the popular 'cire'' fabric only having a great deal of flexibility. Developed by Baum-Dietrich Technologies by and for the virtual reality department, silkskin magnifies the effect of any outside physical stimulation directly to the skin below. Experiments have shown that those wearing silkskin are easily distracted, as the material keeps their entire body extremely sensitive.

find next

+++ VRcloth - a version of silkskin connected directly to a persons neuro-pathways

find next

+++ VRprosthetics - nerve connected prosthetics, consisting of an outer layer which is nearly identical to skin in texture and color; a liquid core which, under proper frequencies, could: harden, enlarge, shrink, soften, move in a particular direction or set of directions, and transmit sensations from the outer layer to the inner layer; and an inner layer, which transmits sensations to nuero-receptors implanted in the skin and connected to the hosts own nerves.

find next

+++ Personell data: Worthington, Tara J: President and CEO

Baum-Dietrich Technologies.

[ set Worthington.gif ] Education : BS in chemistry, W3oq4it7pq38ohf48o....

*** Security Program detected. File transfer interupted.

Abort initiated***

+++ End file transfer +++

+++ Connection closed +++

The small amount of information that I was able to gleam from the company's public relations department confirmed most of what I had already been told. It didn't mention, however, that the president was claiming to be a researcher that was subjecting unwilling persons to her own personal experiments. Most of it was technobabble, but at least it supported what Tara had said to me last week. It didn't settle my queasy stomach any.

I stared at the screen of my computer, hoping that things would all of a sudden change and my life would return to normal. But it was Wednesday, a day that had caused no small amount of problems in my digestive system at that point. For the past week I had tried to live my life normally, but I was far from being in a normal situation. Last Wednesday, when I had gotten home from my evening of "racquetball", I had a difficult time concealing what had happened to me. I don't know if my wife suspected something or not, but the paranoia running rampant in my head made it seem that she was constantly touching, stroking, prodding, tickling, or just being all too affectionate for my current situation. She soon realized that I wasn't in the mood, and, after telling me about her day at work, what happened at church, and that we didn't win the lottery (again), We took our places in our king sized bed and soon fell asleep. Before I knew it we were shutting off the alarm and getting up to the morning sun.

The week had passed quickly. My wife made the occasional overture for sex, but I couldn't do it. Guilt for what had happened already, and what I thought was going to happen, killed my mood completely.

All too soon it was Wednesday again. I had almost forgotten the whole thing, dismissing it as a dream induced by reading too many fantasies, except for the fact that I found my self keeping my body shaved. This morning I found the shoebox-sized package on the front porch, next to the morning paper. I quickly picked it up, and once back inside the house, stuffed it under the family room couch. I thought it wasn't supposed to arrive until the afternoon.

As I walked back to the kitchen, I was filled with a sense of apprehension as to what I was going to do. Well, almost all of me. My cock was rock solid in erotic anticipation at what could be in the box. I was fairly familiar with my body and it's reactions to certain situations, and I knew full well that there is a reason cocks have 'heads'. It's because they think only for themselves. I did my best to conceal the confusion between my brain and the erection in my pants while I ate my breakfast. The morning preparations for work went quickly and I soon I kissed my wife goodbye when she left for work.

Once I was sure that her car had left the driveway, I fished out the box and ran upstairs. I shut the bedroom door like a teenager with his first porn magazine and ripped open the package. Inside was a remote control about the size of my CD player's with a tag attached, an unmarked toothpaste tube, and a black outfit. I pulled the outfit completely out of the box and laid it out on the bed.

It was, in fact, a jumpsuit, and while it looked a little small for me, I knew it would fit the way Tara wanted it to. It was made of an almost white translucent material, a cross between latex and spandex in texture and strechability, and was designed to cover me from my ankles to an open faced hood. I examined it a bit more closely, and discovered it was not uniform in thickness. Heavier, thick sections were located in the chest, ass, and hood. There where half-inch holes where my ears would be and a small glove-pouch in the crotch area, in addition to a large slit up the back. It also had no way of fastening it; I assumed that I would climb in through the opening in the back, and that once it was over my head and arms it would keep itself in place. I carefully rolled it up and put it and it's companions back in the box. At the foot of our bed was a heavy locking cedar chest; a friend of mine had made it for us as a wedding present. The bottom face of the chest was actually a drawer with a concealed lock, and I used to hide my few items of material porn there. If you think that when you get married, you will have no secrets from your wife, wait until she tries to throw away all that hard earned porn you have collected over the years. Sure, women can have their bodice-ripper romance novels, but unless she enjoys porn too, it's a no-no.

I put the box in the drawer and locked it. The small key went back on my keychain, and off to work I went. In some bizarre way, I was looking forward to this evening. I could hardly surpress my excitement.

When I got home that afternoon, my wife was already there and cooking dinner. The meal went quickly, as it often does on Wednesdays, and we chatted about the day's events. She could tell my mind wasn't on the conversation though, and got ready to leave for her class. I kissed her good-bye, and again watched as her car pulled out of the driveway. Kinky fantasies began to flit through my head, and I was hard by the time I got upstairs. I stripped quickly, and unlocked the drawer to remove my costume. It seemed cooler; almost oily to the touch. I got out the controller and the tube. The tag on the controller read:

"Start at 6:30. Head to ankles in the jelly,

put on the suit, enter 1637794 [ enter ]

Leave the contoller home.

Be at 730 Sycamore at 7:15, lower door.

Don't be late."

I opened up the tube, punctured the sterile seal, and squeezed a generous portion of the pinkish jelly inside into my hands, then proceeded to smooth it over my body. It was cool but warmed up quickly, and had no smell. Wiping my hands on my discarded jeans, I started to put on the jumpsuit. Left leg, straighten, right leg, straighten, then maneuver the arms and head into position. The material was stretchy and flexible enough that squeezing in wasn't too difficult, but my hard-on was definitely a hindrance. I grabbed the glove-pouch and pulled it out so that I could maneuver my cock in, and it fit snug, exposing only the glans.

It was almost as if whoever designed this thought the wearer would have an erection when they put it on. No surprise there.

It was definitely more comfortable that way. I slid my hands down the arms into the gloves, making sure the fingers weren't twisted, then pulled the hood up and over my head. It was a little tight, but finally made it. Next came the bathroom.

I wiped off the extra jelly with a towel, and stood in front of the mirror, admiring the skin tight costume. The face cutout exposed me from lips to eyebrows, my hard-on stood out proud before me, and my feet were bare. Nearly my entire body was covered in black. Even the hole that I had gotten in through wasn't noticeable; the slit closing over itself once the hood was on. I got the controller and returned to the bathroom because I wanted to see what happened when I entered the code. After pressing the buttons as instructed, I heard the controller hum for about thirty seconds, and then let out a BEEP. It seemed very loud in the relative quiet of my bedroom.

If I thought the suit was skintight before, I was wrong. Almost the entire thing shrank, except for additions to my pectoral and anal area. My somewhat athletic body was even more male; it looked like I spent hours lifting weights every day. The biggest change, though, was in my pubic area. My suit covered shaft and balls were held in what was now a stiff and hardened case, holding my prick straight out from my body like a dildo on a latex suit, except the now purpling head was real. It felt like somebody's hand had a firm grip on my cock and balls. Firm, but not uncomfortable. I reached down to touch it, but discovered that not only was the shaft rock hard, but it didn't I could no longer feel anything. Except for the head, my dick was nothing more than a numb appendage.

My fantasies vanished and reality hit me in the face like a brick. I was trapped in some nut's experiment, and couldn't get out. Frantically I tapped the code into the controller, hoping to be released. I heard the hum and BEEP, but instead of the relief I wanted, a sharp searing pain around the base of my cock doubled me over and once again I felt the molten lava burn thoughts out of my genitals and my head. When I recovered, I looked up and saw the bedroom clock reflected in the mirror. Evidently, Tara's original instruction of 'start by six thirty' and her new one of 'be there by seven fifteen' had a third one attached. Fool with the controller and pay for it. I was almost tempted to smash the controller into the wall, but thought better of it. It got locked back up in the drawer.

I grabbed a pair of gym sweats and pulled them on and over my erection, which stood out like a tentpole, fished my car keys out my jeans, and headed out. I had a very difficult time not stopping to masturbate, but the lack of sensation helped with that. The erection made driving very difficult.

* * * * * * * * * *

My car screeched to a stop outside the house on Sycamore St. I really needed to get those brakes worked on. It was a bit old, but served my limited purposes well.

The address was close to where Tara lived, maybe a block or two over, and I assumed that it must belong to one of her friends. The house was a large brownstone, one of a string of seven on the street. It was a nice neighborhood, probably inhabited by yuppie wannabes, but I don't think they would have liked what they saw getting out of my car. My black clad body, with erect prick tenting my sweat pants, moved quickly from the car to the ornate oak and glass street level door. I knocked and the door swung open, and as I stepped in I noticed three Greek letters imbedded in the leaded glass window.

My bare feet stepped onto a thick, plush carpet, a dark blue in color. I stood in a foyer, about ten foot square, with dark paneling on the walls and three other doors, one to either side and one in front. A yellow light filtered through the leaded glass window in that far door; it too had the three Greek letters on it, only in gold leaf. A beta, an alpha, and a delta, if I remembered my college days right. BAD? A sick joke; expensive, but sick. Baum And Dietrich, maybe? I couldn't be sure. I closed the street door and advanced to the one with the light behind it, and knocked.

"Come in, Alan. You're early." The door swung open to reveal a large room that must have taken up the entire basement of the house, Dark paneled walls supported a ten foot high ceiling. My feet padded quietly into the room, which was also carpeted, and I found myself in what looked to be a weight room, only I didn't recognize any of the equipment. Tara stood on the other side, disassembling a device made of white pipes and straps.

She was dressed in white head to toe; a snug leather dress with a high collar and a hem down at the knees, white stockings, and white wrist length gloves. Even though the dress was not very revealing, it was snug enough to accentuate all her curves, and would have made me go hard if I had had the problem of being limp. She wore no shoes, probably so she wouldn't have to worry about the carpet. As I approached, she stopped what she was working on and looked up.

"You can take off the sweats. I'll be with you in a moment." She went back to work on the construction while I shucked the pants. After a minute, she spoke again. "Come here. I need you to move this box into the lift." I walked over, my dick bobbing up and down obscenely in front of me, and picked up the box. It was full of bent rods about a foot long, and a number of nylon straps.

"You're awfully quiet today. No, 'hello, Tara, how have you been'?" She was being very conversational, which I thought was amusing due to our current state of dress.

"Sorry. Hello, Tara, How have you been?"

"Good. I can't lie. I have been very worked up about tonight. I thought you would be, too, but you sound a bit reserved. Have you given up hope of getting out of your situation, or have you resigned yourself to enjoy what you have only read and fantasized about? Either way, tonight should be exciting. Come along." She walked to a section of the wall and pressed on a section of the paneling. A five foot section of the wall recessed and slid to the side, revealing an old style gated elevator. Her English term of 'lift' came back into my mind, and I wondered (for no real reason) if she was American.

"You look very nice tonight." I said, trying to ease my situation. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what's going to happen to me tonight, would you?" We got on the elevator, and she locked the gate in place. It started to rise.

"Thank you. If I told you what was going to happen, then it wouldn't be a suprise, would it?" She laughed a little. "Don't worry. Nothing *bad* will happen to you tonight. I'm giving a little little art show, and I wanted my favorite critic to attend. I told you that already, didn't I?"

My mind started to read things into her words. Bad. BAD? Art show? The elevator stopped, and she opened the gate and the outer door. The room it opened onto was at least twice the size of the basement; it must have cut across two of the houses, and reached across two floors. The whole room was painted white, with a white marble floor. A weak light shone from a few track lights in the ceiling, faintly illuminating sculptures and paintings around the room. We walked halfway around the room to a bent frame sculpture made from white tubing.

The main supports were two pyramids, which supported a crossbeam which ran through a circle at least nine feet in diameter. In side the circle was another circle, and within that one, another, the smallest being at least eight feet across. She motioned for me to put down the box, and when I did she started to fish though the rods.