This Is For Science, Tilly. Ch. 02

As I sit in the control booth, my research assistant Tilly smears the electrolyte gel over the subject's trembling body. The subject, Margaret, age 21, pale, long-necked, lies on the examining table. Her white breasts flatten slightly to her sides and wobble slightly, hard nipples tracing tiny circles in the surgically chilly air. With two latex-covered fingers, Tilly coats the subject from neck to toe, working the gel into the skin around the subject's vulva and anus. The subject's trembling increases; she sighs deeply and shuts her eyes. I find this perfectly charming. To her credit, Tilly maintains an air of clinical detachment as she swirls the subject's pubic hair into gel-shiny ringlets, but her eyes narrow and flutter, and her pink tongue juts the tiniest bit through her teeth and perches on her fat lower lip. I'm certain Tilly's drawers are sopping wet.

Tilly now attaches dime-sized electrodes at intervals of three centimeters from the arch of the subject's feet to the sides of her neck, just beneath her ears. These electrodes follow pathways in the peripheral nervous system that transmit involuntary responses and sensations: hunger, fear, sexual arousal. Sexual arousal is the focus of our research.

Our subject, Margaret, was recruited by Tilly. I realize suddenly that I've seen her before; she works at the university library, sorting books, surfing the web and doing her homework at her desk, glazed eyes drooping behind messy bangs, delicate feet crossing under her seat. How delightful! She won't recognize me, because I'm behind one-way glass, and when she does see me at last, she will be too delirious to remember me passing her on the way to the elevator.

"Doctor, are you ready to begin?" asks Tilly into her lapel mike, and attaches the last of several dozen electrodes to the subject. By pressing down a little key, I initiate a gentle wave of micro-voltage electric shocks that run slowly back and forth in the subject's body. At first, this wave is an even sine-pattern producing undifferentiated physical arousal, neither fear nor desire. It simply turns up the volume of her sensations. I start keying up the sequence we will run to produce secretions in desired concentration.

"Marg--", Tilly's voice cracks as she speak-- her arousal is beyond doubt-, "Margaret, just lay here and let yourself get used to the feeling. Close your eyes and imagine yourself in a happy, relaxing place. I'll be back shortly, okay?"

"Okay," chirps the undergraduate, remarkably serene considering that she's naked, coated in gel, and laying on a floodlit steel-vinyl table, the air 59 degrees Fahrenheit, and her peripheral nervous system is being flooded with very mild electric shocks.

Tilly grabs her clipboard, turns around and walks out of the room, come moments later into my sound-proofed control room, and growls, "Holy fuck, if I don't come right now I'm going to pass out," already lifting her white skirt to her waste and peeling her panties from her fat, fresh-shaved pussy. Leaving her blouse and lab-coat on, Tilly yanks down my trousers, turns around and hikes lab coat up so that I'm facing her large, round coffee-colored ass, aims my hard cock at her pussy, and falls around me. Bouncing her cervix against the head of my cock while giving little yelps and whoops, both her hands jam violently at her clit. I'm keeping an eye, meanwhile, on the telemetry. The subject's heart-rate crosses 120 beats per minute.

"Tilly, get back in there and prep the IV", I say. "We have science to do." She ignores me, continuing to bounce up and down on my cock. I know she's close to coming. That won't do. I swivel my chair around and shove her off of me; she totters to the floor, ankles trussed by her pink panties.

"Go do your job, Tilly."

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Tilly swabs the subject's pail arm with alcohol, punctures a bright blue vein with a syringe; I can practically see the subject's taut body melt on the table as the mild ketamine/valium cocktail crosses her blood-brain barrier. We aren't going to work her too hard during her first session, as our experimental procedures take some getting used to.

By combining a dissociative like ketamine with a muscle relaxant, we cushion the intensity of the electric field manipulations. Our research is the effect of arousal on pheremone production, so as long as we can get the subject to squirt a few cubic centimeters of strong juice, we don't need to rack her too hard; too much pleasure can be overwhelming.

With Margaret nice and relaxed now, I key a sequence that alters the pattern of electric field stimulation; she can now feel shocks originating in her neck and toes start to gently undulate toward her pelvic region. She quietly gasps, and gives a little giggle.

"Just relax and give yourself to the sensation," says Tilly. "We need you to just relax now, reee-lax." Margaret takes a deep gulping breath, and lets her flesh melt to putty, aided by the drugs now fully taking hold.

"How does it feel, Margaret?" Tilly asks.

"Goo-uuUGH!," the girl responds, her word turned into a guttural moan as I slide the intensity control up to five out of ten. Her thighs are convulsing, and her fists are clenched.

"There, there," says Tilly, shooting me a dark glance through the one-way glass, and places the palm of her hand on Margaret's abdomen, between her navel and genitals, rubbing firmly. Margaret grabs Tilly's wrist in a sudden motion, and tries to shove Tilly's hand down to her crotch, but my assistant yanks it away.

"Be still, Margaret, let it build up just a little while longer." The girl nods, trembling, her fingers wrapped around the end of the table. Tilly goes to the supply cabinet and takes out a delicate but long spoon-like surgical device. It is made out of metal. From another drawer, she takes a plastic cup and removes it from its sanitary sealing wrapper.

"Now part your legs for me Margaret. I'm going to give you some relief."

"Yes! Plea--UGH!" She yelps again as I push the intensity slider up to seven. Tilly looks up at me with a smirk, but her eyes are smoldering.

"Hands at yours sides, legs open," Tilly says again, and Margaret complies, as Tilly places the plastic cup facing the subject's tumescent vulva. Then, my assistant touches the end of the surgical spoon to the shiny pink pebble of the subject's clitoris, poking out from the soaked curls of hair. At this, the subject has a vigorous orgasm. Clear viscous secretions spurt into the plastic cup and she gives a hoarse, animal cry-- I am, of course, sliding the intensity up to ten at this moment.

"Very good Margaret. Margaret?" Margaret has gone limp, but biometrics show a strong pulse. She has actually fainted.

I speak into the microphone. "Seal up the sample, please, Tilly, and see that the subject is comfortable before you remove her IV."

Tilly removes her latex glove, and slips a pinky into the unconscious subject's vagina, pulls it out, brings it to her nose for a sniff.

"Mmm. This is gonna be a good sample, Dr. Reynolds."

"Come in for debriefing, Tilly."

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A minute later, Tilly is laying on the floor of the control room, calves resting up on my shoulders, pinky in my mouth. I'm fucking her fast like a jackrabbit. Her other hand is jamming at her clit. I pull out of her and spend, my semen streaking the taut brown skin of her stomach, and spilling onto the open lab coat she's laying on. She comes then, clamping her legs around my neck with her thick athletic thighs.

Just then, a mumbled "hello?" comes through the intercom speaker, and Margaret is sitting up, dazed and shivering.