Alex’s College Life

Chapter One — No Questions Asked
I’ve really made a mess of my first year of college. After a little bit of a wild party at the end of the first week I ended up falling off a yacht into the river and got a nasty cold (and ruined a perfectly good phone) which led to a fever and, long story short, ended up putting me out of service for two whole weeks. I’ve been struggling to catch up ever since.

My name is Alexandra Aurora Svalloughs-Kochs, though you’ll probably know me as that ‘Alex Swallows Cocks’ people joke about—if only for my name and not for the fact that -everyone- knows about my impromptu trip into the drink. And I need a job. This year’s a bust but that doesn’t stop the bills from piling up.

So I checked with the student board at my campus last Friday and in the middle of Monday morning class I received an email that I’d been ‘priority pre-selected’ for an ‘exciting opportunity’... though it’s not clear what the opportunity is. It’s described as a ‘confidential study group’ that’ll pay not only my tuition but also give me some extra money on the side as a bonus—though they warn of being extremely picky in who they take in. Even still, I’m urged to contact them ‘without delay’.

It’s fishy as hell. In my mind I can see all kinds of red flag and hear every kind of danger siren...

But it seems promising, at least. I can’t flunk out and get sent back home, back to my step-dad Oswald. He’s a jerk, and a pervert. If I have to spend much more time with him it’s gonna come to blows. I already found him going through my clothes and drawers more than once when he thought I was out of the house.

I’m too clumsy for most jobs, and if I go do something mentally challenging I’ll be too tired to study outside of hours...

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

I call the number from the email right after lunch and this rather bored-sounding guy picks up. “Yeah, what?”

“I’m, um,” I start, “uh, I wanna ask about, uh... the study group.”

Without pause he asks me “You sound shy. Are you shy?” He’s quite blunt.

“Um... A little.”

“Are you cute?” he then asks, again without missing a beat. It’s kind of rude to ask such things, like they matter!

It catches me off guard.

I’m short, and I get mistaken for younger than my actual age. Some people would call that ‘cute’. I’m teeny and tiny, slender... except for my wide hips, and round butt. And I’m nowhere near being flat chested.

Finally, I just answer “Uh... I guess.”

“Do you know the Butler-Noble building?” It sounds like he just started eating something, and if I didn’t need the money I’d hang up right now. “Big science building on the far end of campus?”

“I don’t,” I admit, “but I’m sure I can find it on the map.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Alex.”

“Okay, Alice. We’re in the Butler-Noble building, there’s two basements. We’re in basement two, the lower one, room minus two oh five. Come in tomorrow at a quarter to seven before class for your interview.”

I hate getting up early, but I guess if they really deliver on all they promise, that’s fine.

“Okay. And, it’s Alex.”

“Yeah, okay.” he seems to shrug. I can’t see him over the phone, obviously, but that sounds like a shrug. “Oh, right. Are you still a virgin?”

Again his questions catch me off guard.

“Uh... Um...” I start, blushing madly.

“Sounds like you are.”

“Y-Yeah.” I admit.

“Okay.” I can hear him type something up on a keyboard. “Wear something casual, comfortable, something you don’t mind if it gets dirty or damaged. And don’t put on any make-up, come as you are.”

“Um, okay.”

“And don’t have breakfast. Not even a glass of water.”

“Can I just ask what we’ll be doing there?”

“No.” he says plainly. “I mean, you can ask, obviously, but I’m not going to tell you. You’ll understand tomorrow.”

I don’t really know how to reply to that.

“Hey,” he starts, “you sound familiar. Aren’t you that ‘Alex Swallows Cocks’ girl? The one that fell off that party boat into the river on the first week?”

I groan “Yes, that’s me.” I hate that everyone knows me. It’ so humiliating! I just don’t do well around handsome guys, especially the one I met then.

His name’s Chett and he’s such a dream... and if it wasn’t for my humiliating fall into the water he probably wouldn’t even know I exist.

I turned around and there he was and he smiled and he said hi and I panicked and took three big steps back and flipped myself over a railing and... well, you can guess the rest.

“Oh, good. Then you really are cute.” he says. “We get a lot of time wasters here.”

Again, I’m at a loss for words. But I try to get something out at least, so I don’t end the conversation on something embarrassing.

“Anything I can do to improve my odds?”

“Uh, yeah. Tight shirt, lots of cleavage, no bra. And agree with everything they ask of you, even the weird stuff.”

Oh Gosh, it’s just getting worse! What are they up to down there?

“Um, are you serious?”

“Very serious.” he insists. “But I’ve seen you, and if you’re no stick in the mud you’ll probably get in. Just be cool and do whatever they ask of you. Even the weird stuff -especially the weird stuff- and you’ll be golden.”

“Right. I’ll try that.” I say, if only to say anything and get this conversation over and done with. “And, what’s it pay again?”

Now it just sounds like he’s reciting a studied line. “Upon completion you’ll be reimbursed two grand per full month of service, or four hundred bucks per week, depending on circumstances, and gifted three years worth of tuition to be used at this campus or our sister campus out East.”

That seems good.“Quarter to seven, Butler-Noble, minus two oh five. No make up, lots of cleavage, no bra. Agree to everything.”

“You got it. See ya.” he says and hangs up.

I don’t know what to think of any of this. But there’s a lot of money in it for me, basically a scholarship with extra cash, so I’m more than willing to at least show up to this weird interview and see what happens.

The rest of the day, the questions pile up, and I start to think up of all kinds of bizarre answers to them.

I mean, why did he ask if I was cute? Would that even matter? And what does it matter that I’m still a virgin? Was he just fucking with me?

But when I look up the building on the campus map, not only is it super secluded from the rest of campus—literally in the middle of a private section in the middle of a forest that’s off-limits to almost all students (not to mention regular people)—it’s also marked as ‘experimental research studies’, so I bet my wildest guess won’t even match what the truth might be.

I can’t even focus at all during miss Hanabusa’s class. Except, like most of the boys who can’t focus during her class, I’m not staring at her large breasts and drooling onto my desk—I’m staring out the window, towards the forest that hides the Butler-Noble building.

The place is not only hidden in a forest, but the forest itself is locked off by a tall fence with barbed wire on top, and the only two ways in or out are staffed by armed guards. No wonder I didn’t know it, it’s not on most campus maps and it’s impossible to get in without a security badge.

I ask some people I know around campus about that building, and rumor has it that it’s used to conduct secret experiments for the military, headed by the brightest minds of our generation.

Since I’m too nervous about the interview I skip out on trying to study at the library and just head to my dorm room.

When I get to my door, I run into my friend Tabitha who stays down the hall. She’s heard rumors of girls on campus being moved from regular dorms to private facilities in the high security zone. The way she tells it, there’s just over a hundred girls staying there permanently, even over the weekends and holidays. Nobody knows what’s going on for sure, though.

I can’t really put that call out of my head until my stomach rumbles after sundown and I’m reminded I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch. So I get a microwave dinner out of my little fridge and heat it up.

Even with television and a hot meal to distract me, my thoughts keep drifting towards the call, and the interview. To be honest, I’m creeped out. But I do need the money.

Then I get a call from a blocked number. I stare at it for a moment before deciding to answer. What’s one more weird thing today?

“H-Hello?”

“Hey, Alex?” a guy asks. He sounds familiar.

“Yes?” I reply. “Who is this?”

“I’m from the study. I’m at the entrance to your dorm, I have something you’ll need. Can you come out real quick?”

I go white for a moment, then move to the window and open it up—letting all the heat out of my little dorm room—and leaning outside. There is, in fact, someone loitering just outside the entrance, talking on his phone.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll be right there.” I say, slightly panicking. I’m already in my pajamas, but I figure I’ll just throw on a bathrobe and cover up.

I bump into several other girls making out in the corridor on my way out, but I’m too enveloped in my thoughts and nerves to worry about them.

Say no to drugs, kids. Even the fun ones.

And someone’s playing flute music really loudly. How loud do you have to play flute music to hear it through walls?

By the time I make my way out the elevator and step into the big hallway at the front, I can’t get the idea of slowly eating a banana out of my head. Or sucking on a popsicle for an hour. I just wanna do something with my mouth, anything, and I don’t know why.

Ugh, this stupid flute music... it’s getting to me. Maybe I should go check on Tabitha and... cuddle.

I shake my head to try and clear my mind as I walk up front.

“Hello?” I ask, peeking my head out the door.

“Here.” he says, plainly. It’s the jerk from the telephone, holding out a lanyard with a security badge on it. “You’ll need it to get onto the grounds tomorrow. Don’t forget it.”

“Thanks.” I say, taking the badge.

He’s tall and broad shouldered, with a nice set of muscles on him. Such masculine, handsome features... I was going to give him an earful for being rude on the phone, but I always get so shy around handsome guys. Especially tall ones and muscular ones.

“Yeah, you are cute.” he grins.

I snap out of my thought. “Uh? Oh, um, what?”

“I said you’re cute.” he repeats. “You gotta be cute for this, uh, ‘study group’.”

I break out in a deep blush. “Th-Thanks.” I let out, and shrink in place smiling. I really can’t say much else.

“If you don’t get picked, I wanna take you out on a date.”

I bite my lip before replying “I dunno. I got... stuff... to do.”

“That’s cool.” he shrugs, and turns around immediately.

He leaves without much of anything, and I stand there looking at him walk away in the cold breeze, holding a security badge that reads ‘visitor’.

I get so shy around hunky guys.

Ugh, I’m all stressed out because of that weird interview. I should go to bed.

So that’s what I do. I set my alarm to get up at six, so I have enough time to shower and get across campus.

Even though I’m loaded with questions, I’m so exhausted from my stressful day that I sink into a deep sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I always let stressful things go to my head, cloud up my mind. I can’t seem to enjoy anything for the rest of the day if I get worked up even a little bit.

Regardless, it’s a good, deep slumber, with a vivid dream of good times.

Still, six comes too soon, and I groan as I get up.

Lucky for me I put a sticky note on my fridge to keep me from finishing that bottle of Yondervale Milk I’d been saving, because I’m not supposed to eat or drink anything before going on the interview. Maybe it’s a medical trial? That’d explain why they’re so picky.

Wouldn’t explain why I’d have to be cute.

Then again, stranger things go on around campus. Rumor has it that you can only get a Landon Hamilton scholarship if you’re an attractive young woman, that’s also a massive, massive slut. According to some who’ve been awarded it, a blowjob was part of the application process. Perhaps it’s best not to worry about it—or even ask questions.

I jump into the shower and -yeaouch! Right! The boiler doesn’t turn on for another half an hour...

After my (thankfully brief) ice cold shower I try do decide what to do with those long white-blonde locks of mine. I could wear my hair down, or put it up. It’s long, very long, right down to my butt, and there’s a lot of natural volume, and even a slight curl. And my bangs are basically a necessity, because it’s so wild and rowdy—without them I wouldn’t be able to look straight ahead, just down at my feet.

I leave it down. I look adorable that way, and they wanted at least cute.

I always feel like a living porcelain doll when I get out of the shower—especially when I doll up. But today, no make-up. That saves me some time.

Ugh, no breakfast. I’m starving.

Instead, my stomach is growling as I’m in front of the mirror, trying to pick something to wear. My chest tends to stretch out the fabric of all my shirts, so the only thing I can wear braless without showing the world my nipples yet still displaying cleavage is a tight black V-neck shirt I stole off a girl who spread lies about me in high school. I wiggle it down my chest, but can’t pull it any lower than just above my navel, not when my breasts are pushing out so much. Even without a bra for support, they’re riding high on my chest, resisting gravity as they curve naturally downwards. The slightest movement shows just how unsupported they are though, jiggling around like two family-sized plates of jello.

Watching them shake, looking at the faint outline of my hard nipples, I decide to go with just one more extra bit of naughtiness, a black thong I’ve not worn more than three times before. The tiny floss string wedges itself up my full buttocks and the rest of the fabric barely covers anything, but I love the way it feels rubbing against me as I walk. And the way it lets the skin of my plush buns rub up against each other, it makes me feel... confident.

Today I’m finally putting that winter track suit to good use. It’s comfy and warm, and from the look of my window it’s freezing cold outside. Thick, comfy socks, and those big sneakers I never wear. I’m not that athletic, thankfully I’ve not really had a need to look after my physique. Being slender runs in the family on both sides.

With the zipper up, I actually look like I got up early to go for a run. I put the lanyard on and stuff the badge into the top so it doesn’t stand out, and I head out of the dorms. Since they switched to keypads I’ve no need for a key, and I’ve literally got nothing on me but the clothes I’m wearing.

Wow, it’s so cold! How is it this cold in October?

I rub my hands together and breathe into them, trying to keep warm as I shuffle over in basically an outdoors pajama for people who like running.

Maybe I should run?

No way. I’m uncomfortable as is with it being so cold, I’m not going to run braless. I’m not that kind of girl.

Ugh, it’s so far. I should have rented a bike. It’s a good fifteen minutes to get to the security station, but it feels much longer in this cold. At least it’s a heated little building.

When I get inside, I unzip to pull the badge out of my jacket, and the first thing the guard does is stare at my chest through the bulletproof window.

“I’m, uh, I’m here for an interview.” I start, showing the badge. “I’m Alex Aurora Svalloughs-Kochs. I assume I’m on a list here?”

The guard eyes me up. “Ain’t you that girlie that fell in the river?”

I roll my eyes and sigh dejectedly. “Yes.” I let out in monotone.

He grins down at me. “You’re awful cute.”

That makes me blush. “Aww, thanks.”

He buzzes me into a small airlock-like room with white opaque windows, and two red rings on the only wall of four without a door in it.

I become a little lightheaded the second I step in. Are my nerves getting to me?

It feels weird in there. Like that feeling you get in a school stairwell at night, like something’s wrong. Something strange is going on, setting off your sixth sense. But there was nothing, not as far as I could see, except a weird camera mounted on the ceiling giving off this faint humming and ticking noise.

Humming like an old, broken speaker. Whummmmmm...

Ticking like a clockwork heartbeat. Tick-tock... Tick-tock...

It’s shining a sharp, extremely bright white-blue light at me. I can’t look at it for more than a second—it’s already giving a bit of a headache.

The door forward and the door back are locked remotely. Then the door to his office area opens.

He joins me in there and says “Put your jacket on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and put your hands in the rings. I have to search you.”

“But I didn’t bring anything.” I try.

“That may be so. But I have to search everyone.”

I do as I’m told, and he’s already patting up the jacket while I’m untying my shoes. He stuffs his hands inside and checks them closely before turning to me.

He’s got big, strong hands. Even though I’m wearing such a tight top, he’s very thorough as he gropes me to make sure I’m not hiding anything in my underboob.

At least his hands are warm.

I get a guilty little hot flash out of him rubbing his hand between my legs, and over my ass, then rubbing down each thigh down to the ankle. I start breathing hard, my eyes cross, and my toes curl a little.

I’m blushing, biting my lip. I almost ask him to check me over again, even more thoroughly. Heck, I’m ready to beg for it.

Oh, Gosh, he’s even going through my hair. I can’t resist when people play with my hair...

I squeak out a flirty moan, and he notices. Of course he notices, you can hear a pin drop in this room.

Suddenly, his large hands are back on waist, sliding up and under my top, onto my plush breasts. Feeling, kneading, enjoying.

I rub my big round butt back against his lap, and I moan again when I feel his massive bulge press between my buns. I even peel my pants down so my ass rubs directly against that throbbing package.

If he pulls his dick out I’m putting it inside me—oh Gosh, what’s happening to me? I ache for this stranger’s fat cock to punish my insides for hours!

Instead, he smacks my ass, gives it a firm grope and chuckles. “Get dressed, little girl. They’re waiting for you. Basement two, room five.”

I’m so very disappointed he doesn’t just rail me hard against the wall, but that feeling doesn’t last long—just until I’ve left the little airlock.

I’m now in the high security zone, and I still have a little hike left to get to the Butler-Noble building.

Man, what came over me in there? All of a sudden I got all worked up... I would have let him do anything he wanted to me.

It seems the fresh air has cleared my mind. I gotta move, too, or I’ll be late!

It’s twenty to the hour when I arrive in the Butler-Noble building, and a little out of breath. I did run this last bit, holding my chest as to not subject them to inhuman amounts of bounce.

There’s a stern looking older woman sitting disinterestedly at a desk behind thick glass.

“Hello.” the receptionist says. “Who’re you?”

“Alex... Svalloughs-Kochs...” I say, trying to catch my breath. “Room... minus two... oh five.”

“Right. One moment.” she says, and types on her computer, then picks up a phone and speaks into it. “She’s here.”

I take a seat as I wait for them to collect me.

Then, the doors open, and a rather hefty orderly waves me in. “Alex? This way.”

I get up to follow him, but before he steps aside to let me through he takes the badge, and leaves it at the desk.

He guides me to a small elevator in this oddly designed building. It’s like a military hospital from the cold war or something, hiding behind a fresh coat of paint.

The orderly uses a key card to call the elevator and has me step inside, then uses the key card again to operate the elevator to move to the lowest basement.

I ride down by myself, questions and worries piling up in my head. What am I getting myself into? This is all so scary and exciting.

It even smells like a hospital in here. It’ll take a few minutes to get used to the scent.

And it’s huge! The corridor seems to stretch out much father in either direction than the building is wide above ground, and that’s saying something!

When I disembark the elevator a security guard spots me. “Where are you going?”

“I’m, uh, here for an interview. Room minus two oh five?”

He nods and points at a couple of chairs lined up in the hall across from the interview room. “Have a seat. Someone will come find you. No exploring, no talking.”

“R-Right!” I reply, feeling intimidated. Then I turn to head down the corridor but he stops me again.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.

I blink. “Um, sorry?”

“Polite girls smile and thank people when they’re helpful.”

“Oh!” I say in realization, then put up a little smile. “Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir!”

He grins and lets me go my merry way. “Move along, little girl.”

I take a seat right outside room minus two oh five and wait. I don’t have a watch, but judging from the clock over the reception desk, I should be right on time. Won’t be long now.

“Come along, 7.” I hear someone say, through one of the open doors further down. Then I see two young men walk out, followed by this angelic apparition.

My Gosh, she’s so breathtakingly beautiful! This full-figured blonde with the most amazing eyes and colossal, bouncy breasts is just walking down the corridor, fully nude, with a blank, vacant stare, following two serious looking fellas in lab coats; one of which is holding a tablet computer, the other a chain leash. Those luscious, feminine features are enough to make even a straight girl think twice about herself.

And goodness me, those breasts—they’re easily bigger than my head! From the jiggle and bounce I can tell right away that they’re real.

Watermelons to my grapefruits—even though mine are the large variety of grapefruit, they’re still nothing to these fantastic... Oh Gosh, why am I thinking of mouth-watering, delicious fruit all of a sudden? Is it because I skipped breakfast to be here?

I can’t tear my eyes from the naked girl... what is she doing here?

She’s wearing nothing but make-up and a leather collar with a ring on the front for a leash. What goes on around here? Ugh, maybe I should just run. But where would I go? Back to my step-dad? I doubt I can even get back into the elevator without a key card...

Every last detail about this girl is perfect. I have to wipe my mouth on my sleeve because I’m drooling. Mouthwatering fruit, indeed.

I lose sight of her as they march her into a room with a dentist chair and close the door, locking it. From the sound of it, there’s three locks on that door. I wonder what they do in there.

I wonder, does dean Michaelson even know what goes on here?

Then, another beauty, one with red hair as long as my own, opens the door. She’s in lab coat and is holding a clipboard.

“Alex?” she asks, to which I nod. “My name is doctor Francesca Leonard. I’m the trial lead.”

 

Chapter Two — No Questions Answered
The first thing Francesca -I mean, doctor Leonard- asks of me to do is to remove my shoes, socks and track suit, so I’m standing in the middle of her office in nothing but a black thong and tight shirt, as she looks me over and asks me questions.

She’s so pretty, and she must be brilliant to be a doctor at 21.

Slender body, long legs. A short, tight dark business skirt with tasteful stockings and professional, low needle heels. A tight wine red shirt with the top few buttons open by necessity, showing the bridge of her black lace bra. Tasteful eye shade with bright red lips, and a thick framed set of glasses that make her look like the naughtiest little librarian. It really makes those baby blue eyes pop!

The heels, even though they barely make her look taller, are cheating to me. Even without them I’d only come up to her chin at best. But wow, just look at her!

What a redhead! I can see why they’re so sought after.

The doctor circles me, looking me over up and down, and she looks pleased.

To be honest, I’m feeling quite vulnerable without my make-up on. I can’t quite put it into words, but my ‘pretty face’ is something of a mask for me that I can comfortably hide behind, so right now I’m quite uncomfortable.

With my ‘pretty face’ on, it covers up my baby face, my round, soft features that make me look like an overgrown child, and it’s helped to have people take me seriously over my squeaky voice and short stature. Only recently did anyone start to take me seriously, and going without make-up is giving all of that up.

Plus I’m barely clothed, so that doesn’t help at all.

“Have a seat.” she says, though it sounds more like an instruction than an offer, as she picks up a tablet computer and sits down at her desk.

It’s a bit chilly in the office, because the air conditioning is on at full blast.

“How old are you?” she asks, even though she must already know how old I am. My date of birth is on the file she’s reading off of and making notes on.

“Uh, eighteen.”

“In how many weeks will you turn nineteen?” she asks, her eyes briefly shooting me a look as if to see how I react to unexpected questions. Is this a math quiz?

I bite my lip trying to visualize the calendar on my dorm room desk. Mentally flipping through the pages, I try to count the weeks in my mind’s eye. Today’s the fifth of October and my birthday’s the twenty-seventh of January. “Uh, sixteen, I think.”

“Do you have any objections to being talked down to and looked down on for the sake of science, and in return for monetary compensation?”

That’s a definite red flag... but I do need the money, and I’ve struck out with basically every other employer in the region—and I don’t want to move back home to get a job. I try to avoid the straight answer. “Uh... I guess not?”

“You guess?”

Dammit.

“I mean, I’m fine with that, of course. If there’s a good reason...”

“Would it humiliate you to serve those who outside these walls would be your peers, but inside these walls are your betters? Get them coffee, clean their desks, mop the floor, run their errands, and other tasks below your regular standing? They’ll look down on you and talk down to you, and you must obey and serve with a smile...”

“Uh... I mean, I’ll do it...” I answer honestly, trying to avoid the actual question. Are they doing some sort of bizarre social experiment down here?

But she presses. “Would you feel humiliated?”

I purse my lips. I don’t want to answer. But I feel like she won’t let it go. And the money’s so good. “It would be humiliating.”

She’s eyeing me up, tapping things into that tablet computer. I wonder what she thinks of me...

“Do you have any fillings, and do you still have all your teeth?”

“Uh, no fillings, and I had my wisdom teeth pulled. All four of them.”

“Tattoos or piercings?”

“None.”

“Not even the ears?” she asks.

“No, never. Never liked the idea of putting a needle on or through me.” I shrug.

“Would you consent to being examined fully nude by our staff perhaps several times a day for months on end?”

Ugh. Do I really want to be here? “Sure. If the pay and benefits are what’s been promised.”

She smiles. “Let me assure you, by being part of our project, by participating in this trial... you not only get a running start to doing better next year and the years to come, but you’ll make it easier for young women to find out who they want to be, and then become those versions of themselves, with minimal effort! You could say, we’ll be able to turn people into their ideal selves at the push of a button!”

Another red flag. I’m always wary of things that sound too good to be true. Especially if it’s phrased like a commercial.

My step-dad signed me up to a ‘nondenominational church’ trip for introverted young girls once. Pretty sure it was a big hideaway trip for molesters looking back, so I’m grateful my mom managed to get me out of it.

“Would you like to be a part of that?”

I put on a smile, even though I’m sure she can tell right away I’m faking it. I never was good at hiding my true feelings. “I’d love to.”

Doctor Leonard puts her excited smile away and taps on the tablet some more.

“Hypothetical: would you rather be a cheap whore or starve?”

“Um...” I say, thinking about it.

“Don’t think about it. Top of your head.”

“Whore myself out.” I relent. I already feel like I’m whoring myself out to this woman, in a way.

“Would you whore yourself out for science?”

I don’t want to answer that... yet I do. “Yes.” Truth be told, I’d whore myself out for money. But if the science makes me the money, so be it.

“Does your self-respect, your self-esteem, your self-worth... have a price?”

“Y-Yes.” I groan. Fuck... I really am a whore.

Deep down I start to feel like I’ve always had a price, and I just never got around to admitting to myself that I lack the spine to be honest about my deepest, darkest truth: I’m not just easy to manipulate... I’m actually looking for someone to pull my strings. Is that why I keep agreeing?

It’s gotta be.

“Do you consent to being humiliated regularly and thoroughly for the benefit of mankind, and science?”

Ugh, what is with these weird questions? I feel like I’m joining a cult...

“I’ll do whatever needs to be done, doctor.”

Talking to the good doctor is murder on my self-esteem.

She’s smiling again. That can’t be a good sign.

“You have very nice breasts. Cute butt. Adorable little face.” she says, a little wry smile on her lips. “You could make quite a bit of money as a whore, I’m sure.”

I feel pretty bad being humiliated for the heck of it, but I struggle to smile and say “Thanks.”

“Thank you, -who—?” she asks, basically grinning.

“Thank you... -doctor—.” I say. It’s gotta be super obvious how uncomfortable I am.

“Wonderful. Now lift your shirt.” she instructs. “Expose yourself.”

I roll my eyes and with a sigh, I pull up my top right up to my bosom. I hesitate, but after a big inhale for courage I show off my perky, perfectly round breasts. The most perfect set of F’s you’ll ever see. I couldn’t be happier with them.

They bounce as they drop out of my top at the same time.

“Delightful. They’re real, I assume?”

“Of course.”

She grins. “Of course. Jiggle them at me.”

I stop. “Uh... I mean... What is it you guys do here, really?”

“I can’t tell you that, sweet pea. That’d interfere with our results.”

“So... no questions asked, huh?”

“No questions answered.” she winks, then gestures at me. “Jiggle.”

I sigh and perform as requested, gyrating my shoulders so my bountiful mounds dance and bounce, as she watches and enjoys. “Why not?”

“Because if you know what’s going on, everything we put you through will be useless.” she says, staring at my chest, licking her lips just barely. “Knowing means you’d influence the results. Lean forward and keep jiggling.”

I do as instructed, leaning forward just a bit as I shake my upper body for the woman. She gestures me to lean over more, so I do, and she writes something down on her tablet. I feel my breasts weighing me down more and more, the further I lean down. I hope I can stop soon, my poor boobs are getting really sore.

“That’ll do.”

She then puts the tablet down and gets up from her seat. With her now moving to loom over me, I feel even more uneasy. Like she’s getting ready to pounce and eat me or something...

But instead, she reaches under my arms and grabs my breasts, groping and kneading them rather firmly and roughly. Her fingers splayed, my breasts bulging out between. Her hands aren’t that small, but my breasts are still a little too much for her to handle.

I groan, and I so desperately want to remind her those tits are attached to me, but I bite my lip and try not to complain.

She escalates the creepiness by slowly dragging the back of her tongue across my cheek. “You really are a doormat, aren’t you?” she teases, and nibbles my ear. “I want to hear you say it.”

Fuck. I’m so embarrassed. “I... am a doormat.” I squeak out.

I could just burst out crying right now. Thankfully she lets go of my breasts and pulls my top down, so I’m a little more covered again.

“I want you to do a simple IQ test.” she explains, picking up a second tablet computer from a cabinet on the far wall. “Twice. Once just as you are, and once wearing a headset. We just wanna take some readings and... measure a few things.”

She almost shoves the tablet into my lap and I tap at the screen. It’s the kind of test they’d give to an eight year old, complete with icons, shapes and colors rather than asking questions in full sentences.

Nothing too difficult. I breeze through it in a minute or two.

“Oh, that was remarkably quick. And looking at your file, you were a wonderful student in middle school and high school... until you, let’s say, ‘fell off the boat’.” she grins. Ugh, she’s not even trying to hide the fact she’s making fun of me. “133! That’s pretty good! Quite remarkable in fact!”

“Thanks...” I say, if only to say anything. I clench my fists by my side, out of her view, trying not to burst out a complaint. Turns out I am a doormat—not just passively so, but actively. I choose to be a doormat... dammit.

It’s obvious how humiliated I am and uneasy I feel... and she’s eating it up. She’s relishing my discomfort.

She holds up a strange little headset, with a techno-thingamabob at the front that has, aimed inwards on either side, two pinlights like the camera from the security booth had. The doctor puts it on my head and asks “How do you feel?”

The thingamabob is right up against my forehead, and it’s giving me a bit of a headache. Not a full headache, just a bit of one. The onset of one. “Uncomfortable. And it’s like I can hear a very high pitched noise that isn’t there.”

What am I even doing here?

“Good!” she smiles. “Now do the test again. You can take as long as you need, but try to do it as fast as you can.”

There’s a faint ticking, like the faint ticking of the heart of a pocket watch, and a strange hum, like... um...

Sorry, it’s hard to think straight. What was I saying?

My finger moves sluggishly across the tablet as I do the same exercises I did before. I should know all the answers already, so it should go faster, right?

Well, it’s not going very fast at all. In fact, it’s going very, uh, unfast. ... What’s the word for that again?

The doctor grins. “Feeling a bit out of it? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to that.”

It takes me five tries to line up the right shape with the right hole, and I keep mixing up sevens and eights. Which comes first again? Eight. Five six eight seven nine... Wait.

Ugh, my head hurts. Like I’m being pricked by a long needle straight through the forehead right down the middle.

I don’t know how long it takes me to finish, but finally I do, and almost immediately afterwards the headache vanishes, and the doctor removes the headset, putting it away.

She looks me over. “How was it?”

“It was... like, way, way harder the second time.” I admit. “Funny, I did the exact same exercises before, right?”

“Yes. Exactly the same. Took you twenty-nine minutes this time, and you got most of them shamefully wrong, too.” she grins. “You scored a 64—I couldn’t be happier!”

“I don’t enjoy wearing that thing. It gave me a headache.”

“You seemed to manage it. And at full power, no less!” she says, writing down her findings into her tablet. “I’ll use the reading’s I’ve gathered and I’m sure I can bump you down to a nice, comfortable 55, perhaps even 50. Ideally, we’ll get you as low as 45, or 40.”

I don’t even know how to react to that. I doubt there’s even anything I could say right now that would break her concentration away from whatever it is she’s going through on that tablet of hers.

Then she grins, and I don’t like it one bit. “I think you’ve deserved some breakfast. I hope you’ve brought a big appetite, little girl...”

I find myself obviously excited by the prospect of a meal, though that turns to alarm as she puts a large cup on the desk, and fills it with some strange, gross white ooze pouring out of a rather complicated-looking container.

From the measuring tool on the side of the container, it seems like one and a quarter liter of whatever this gross goop is.

“Wh-What is it?” I ask, concerned for my own well-being.

“What does it look like?” she teases.

“Like you jerked off a horse and you’re serving me his load.” I say, and am suddenly horrified. I’m never this forward.

The doctor giggles. “Don’t you worry, a temporary loss of inhibition is normal after mental ‘stimulation’ from that device you were wearing. You’ll probably be bad at keeping track of time for a few hours.”

“I don’t really have to drink this, do I?”

“You most certainly must, I’m afraid.” she says, relishing my plight. “Let me just assure you that no horses were required to fill up that cup.”

I lean in and smell it. Even its scent is revolting, and I recline in disgust.

“It’s a nutrient solution, with natural proteins and vitamins. I understand it smells -and yes, tastes- absolutely awful, but it’s quite good for you, and it’ll keep you fed for a whole day.

I dip a finger into the disgusting beverage and pull it up, creating a trail of slime form my finger to the cup. Yet I take a deep breath and lick it up, and, oh Gosh, it’s even worse than I thought. Salty and vile. And warm! Why is it warm?

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.” I try.

She’s of course not having that. “It’s a requirement. Try not to think about it.”

I sigh, and pick up the cup. I need both hands as it’s surprisingly heavy, and put it to my mouth. The slime coats my lips as I pour the nasty drink down my gullet and try to swallow it faster than my tongue can taste it.

I’m on the verge of tears when I’m only halfway, and my whole body is trembling as I struggle to do as I’m told. I should just tell this woman I won’t do it, but...

Wait, why am I here again?

I just can’t get on her bad side. I have to do what she says... ugh, the headache’s back.

“Good girl. Every last drop.” she instructs. “No cheating.”

I let the cup drip out onto my tongue and I swallow every last bit of it. It’s coated the inside of my mouth and throat, and it’s assaulting my sense of taste with its nasty flavor, and it’s not going away.

Like a large rat died on my tongue a week ago and someone covered it with my own weight in table salt.

“You’ll taste that for a while. You won’t ever enjoy it but... you’ll get used to it, in time.” she explains. “Would you care for another?”

“Please, don’t...” I whine, tears in my eyes. “Please don’t make me drink another.”

She lifts another canister of the vile goop onto her desk. “But if I tell you to, you’ll do it, right?”

Tears trickle down my big puffy cheeks as I nod. If she tells me to... I won’t refuse. Gross.

“Well, for now one will do.” she says, and relief washes over me.

I rub my eyes with my wrists, and wipe away the tears.

She hands me a paper tissue, and I blow my nose. I’ve gotten all emotional, even though I’m so used to keeping everything inside—especially after that humiliating fall off the boat.

For a moment I was worried she’d take the tissue and put it in a little bag for study -it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen today- but thankfully she just tosses it in the bin like a normal person.

“Stand up.” she says, and I come up to my feet, a little wobbly from the rush of peculiar but ineffable emotions coursing through me.

She gives me a hug. A long, soft, warm hug, and I hug her back.

When she lets go, though, she says “Look up and open your mouth as wide as you can.”

I’m confused, but willing, and when I do as I’m told she puts her whole hand in my mouth—aside from her littlest finger and her thumb which just don’t fit, though she tried to make it fit—and presses down on my tongue. I feel her fingertips rub the sides of my throat, even the back, and I wince, trying to retract myself away.

Her other hand is gripping the back of my neck firmly, and I feel like some puppy getting force-fed a yucky pill by an experienced veterinarian, while I struggle limply in her grasp.

She’s not even wearing gloves, and who knows where her hands have been?

When she finally removes her hand I wheeze out for air, and drop back onto my seat. “Wh-What were you doing?”

“I can’t tell you that. No questions answered, remember?” she replies.

I groan. “Well, that was obviously -probably- a gag reflex test.” If that’s the case, I probably passed it. I don’t have a gag reflex, it runs in the family. That’s why my mom’s given me so many step-dads. Sadly I got stuck with the worst one after she passed.

The emotions surging through me have made me more defiant. Sadly, it’s come right at the end of things.

She smiles a sweet smile and her eyes look down on me with compassion. “Aww, honey. The interview is over. You did it.” She seems like a completely different person. “Yay, you!”

“Did I... Did I get in?” I ask almost incredulously, ready to burst out crying.

“Oh, yes! If you still want in, that is.” she says. “In fact, we haven’t had a candidate so susceptible to the device as you, so naturally receptive of its influence... so I’m really excited to see what we can put you to work on.”

She holds up her tablet computer to show me a scan of... my brain? Was that what the device was doing?

“99.62% attunement on your first try! That’s incredible!” she smiles, showing genuine excitement. “You have to join us, we’d be lost without you!”

She then opens a drawer and pills out a huge stack of papers all bound in eight folders. The thickest one is up first.

“Sign at the bottom of the first page, and indicate you have read the contract and you understand it and consent to it in its entirety.” she insists.

“Shouldn’t I...?”

“...read it first? Well, it’s quite dry and boring, and there’s tons of things to be done. We don’t really have time to wait around for doubting Debbies...” she says, casually insulting me, goading me into just signing.

And it fucking works, dammit! Double dammit!

I sign it, my name, the date, and I mention I’ve read it and understand it and agree to it... whatever it is.

“Great! Now sign these!” she says, handing me closed envelopes with little openings cut out just over where I have to write my name and where I have to sign.

“But... don’t I even get a chance to read these?” I wonder out loud, looking a little helpless no doubt.

“Oh, the first contract covers us for you not knowing and fully understanding every last detail of every contract as it’s in the pursuit of experimental science and, as you’ve been made aware, if you know what we’re doing we can’t test you for it anymore, so we’re keeping you in the dark purely out of necessity.” she’s quick to inform me. “Just sign, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You’ve already foregone informed consent, now just sign the important details.”

“What do you mean, ‘every detail’? But I’m not getting -any- details now!”

She sighs aggressively. “Just sign, little girl.”

“I’m not that much younger than you are.”

“Well, act your age then.” she bites.

I’m taken aback by how rude this genius doctor can be. Still, like the doormat I am, after a moment of pause I’m quick to crumble and sign the seven thick packs of paper leaving each neatly sealed as I probably just sold my soul to the devil.

“Wonderful, we can move forward!” the good doctor exclaims. “Your control phrase is ‘I am a brainless whore’.”

“My -what—?” I blink. “W-Why would I ever say that?”

“Because it’s a phrase you’d never say otherwise. We can’t give you a line you might say in daily life.”

“Well... I guess it’s okay as long as it’s clear I don’t mean it.”

“It’s important you only say it when our staff orders you to. You shouldn’t say it at any other time and you certainly must never tell anyone what your control phrase is—even other participants.”

“I understand.”

“Let’s give it a try. Tell me your control phrase.”

“I...” I start, and groan.

“Come now. Don’t be difficult, this is all in the name of science.”

“I am a brainless whore.” I say, feeling ridiculous.

“Try saying it five times in a row. So you get used to saying it.” she says. Because she’s so serious yet casual about it, it makes me feel like it’s an okay thing to say.

“I am... I am a brainless whore. I am a brainless whore.” I start. “I am a brainless whore. I am a brainless whore... I am a brainless whore.”

“That’s good! I can tell we’re going to love working with you.” she smiles. “Now let’s get you in the Chair and fix you up!”

“Uh, fix me?”

“No questions answered, sweet pea.” she winks, and gets up to head out the door, holding it for me. “Come along, let’s go! Put a little pep in that step!”

It’s with slight terror and some trepidation that I rise from the padded seat and follow the doctor to the door.

“Uh, leave your clothes here. All your clothes.” she instructs, biting her lip and looking me over.

“You mean... I gotta go nude?”

She shoots me a rather stern glare. “I’m not telling you twice. You signed the contract, you gotta fall in line.”

I sigh, if only so I don’t burst out in yammering cries. “... F-Fine...”

The feel of that cold processed air on my fully naked body, covering my flawless skin in tiny little goosebumps. I’m so on edge, my blood is pumping, I get a little light headed and my nipples are rock hard.

I leave my clothes, even my panties, in a pile on the chair by the door.

“That’s a good girl...” she teases and smacks my ass, gripping a buttock.

I blush and moan, biting my lip. I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or from arousal. Ugh, I feel so low.

Just when I think it can’t get any worse, she grabs one of my breasts in her free hand and squeezes it firmly, her fingertips vanishing deep into my plush tit.

“Tell me your control phrase, girl.” she grins, leaning in to me.

I pout and beg “Please don’t make me say it.”

She grips my tit tightly, squeezing and turning it, and I wince in pain.

“I am a brainless whore!” I call out, whimpering.

She lets go of my sore breast only to smack it rather sharply.

“I guess you need a little more practice.” she says, and pulls me into the corridor. “Get on your knees and tell me your control phrase five times again.”

I slowly drop to my knees, one at a time, and feel my heels -cold from the floor- rub against my round, plump butt. It takes every last ounce of strength I have left not to burst out crying.

“I am a brainless whore... I am a brainless whore... I am a brainless whore... I am a brainless whore... I am a brainless whore...”

Oh Gosh, she’s petting my head... I look up at her and she’s smiling.

Did I... do well?

A rush of powerful emotions courses through me, and I smile back. I giggle. Oh man, I’m so glad she likes me after all.

I was so worried she didn’t like me...

... oh dammit, I’m such a doormat.

I rise to my feet and follow her down the corridor to the room where I watched the gorgeous girl from before vanish into.

There’s a strange dentist’s chair in the middle of the room, with plenty of leather straps to bind someone into place, and a whole bunch of cages against the far wall. There’s also a scary looking electrical contraption right behind the chair, and it looks like it’s meant to lean back towards that machine.

I’m basically shoved onto the chair and immediately the good doctor snaps her fingers.

“Start strapping up your legs, and then strap up what you can.” she instructs. “Make sure it’s snug, the less you can move, the better!”

I don’t even bother asking why anymore, I’m not going to get an answer. Instead, I just do as I’m told and start binding myself to the chair, starting at my ankles and moving my way up.

Doctor Leonard is working on a large computer station next to the machine, tapping away. At least she looks like she’s having fun... I guess that’s something.

Once I’m done with the four big straps, two on my ankles and two around my plush thighs, I put on the biggest one around my waist, and then one that goes under my arms and over my breasts. Finally, the last one I strap up is around my neck, leaving my fully snug against the chair—not counting my arms of course.

The doctor comes by and checks the straps, and tightens the ones around my waist and neck. “Your comfort doesn’t matter here. It’s important there’s no wiggle room.” she explains, as she straps up my arms to the padded supports on the sides.

Then, with the press of a pedal, the chair starts to lean back, and I’m laid stretched down.

Without warning, she shows me a large, thick vibrator shaped like an alien bowling pin with two little stubby hooks near the base, and inserts it into my vagina without hesitation or lubrication.

“Ow!” I cry out, and suck my teeth. I can’t lie, this really hurts. Not to mention it’s uncomfortable being stretched around this bizarre shape.

Then she turns it on, and immediately my whole body starts to spasm by its mighty influence. Not so much because it vibrates, but because of powerful energy coursing into my body through the stubby hooks pressing on the outside of my lips, and the fat base stretching my walls.

I climax, painfully and severely, within two seconds, and the device isn’t letting up.

My mouth is wide open, my toes are curled and my eyes are crossed more than ever before. None of my toys in my dorm room ever came close to this kind of pleasure.

Yes, pleasure, even though it’s one of the most painful experiences of my life.

Oh, Gosh, what are they doing to me?!

Thankfully, after what feels like an hour -though probably only a few seconds have passed- she lets up, and I can catch my breath, wheezing loud and fast in complete panic.

“Your number is 14.” she instructs. “When you’re in the high security zone, there is no Alex. Only 14. You’re not to speak with anyone about the project, not even other participants. You’ll do whatever staff tells you to, no matter how strange or humiliating.”

“Please...” I try, but I get assaulted by the vibrator again.

If I wasn’t this restrained, I’d be flopping like a beached salmon.

I feel so helpless. And I strapped myself in! Why am I this stupid?

My body cries out in helpless agony and forced pleasure. When the device lets up again, she snaps her fingers in front of my face.

“Control phrase.”

“I... am... a brain- brainless... whore...” I say, barely able to breathe.

To make it even more difficult, she puts a red rubber ball gag in my mouth and straps it snugly in place around my head.

“Again.”

I repeat my control phrase, but it’s muffled by that big ball awkwardly stretching open my mouth and hurting my jaws.

“Good, 14.” she grins, and leans in to lick my fat, captive breasts, dragging the back of her tongue slowly across from one tit to the next, pressing into those pillowy mounds if just for fun.

The bench moves towards the scary machine behind it, and my head is suddenly stuck in a sort of dome. Things are spinning and whirring and I’m terrified. I break out crying, whining and sobbing.

I struggle as hard as I can, but the vibrator has left me exhausted.

Bright blue pinlights surround me, and give me the mother of all headaches, as ice-cold metal probes extend and press against my scalp, and it sounds like it’s charging up to shock me.

Am I going to die? Oh Gosh, she’s going to kill me!

“Control phrase, 14.” she commands again.

In between sobbing, I repeat that I’m a brainless whore into the ball gag, and she flicks the switch, sending however many kajillions of volts through my brain.

I’m done for.

 

Chapter Three — Winding Down
I don’t know what happened to me right after she flicked that switch. I mean, I’m fairly confident she zapped me, or my brain at least, and those lights... those lights did -something—...

For now, I’m being ignored, still strapped naked and helpless to the chair as several men have joined the good doctor to look at whatever it is they’re looking at on that computer display, muttering to themselves and only occasionally glancing over at me as I’m trying not to have a massive anxiety attack.

At least they’ve taken that huge vibrator out of me. I feel a little stretched.

They’re talking, but I don’t know what about, as my senses are strung out and the room is spinning. Voices echo so much in my mind that they become unintelligible.

One of them, an older Asian man, comes over and says something. It’s directed at me, because the only part I can make out is the first bit, where he calls me ‘14’.

14... that’s who I am. Just a number...

I can’t reply because I have no idea what’s going on, and beyond being weak and limp, I’m strapped down to a dentist’s chair from hell, folded back.

He reaches with his large hands for my breasts and squeezes them firmly, kneading them.

Ow, you jerk, those are attached!

I barely react, completely exhausted, unable to move more than just squirming impotently in place. I can’t say anything at all, instead just groaning almost silently.

The last thing I see is a cute female member of staff coming in with a syringe and injecting me in the neck right before I pass out.

After a deep, dreamless sleep I wake up, just after two in the afternoon, in a hospital bed in what looks like a nurses’ office.

“Oh, you’re awake, 14?” a woman asks.

Every part of me feels heavy and weak. I groan as the bright light of the room is blinding.

“How do you feel, 14?”

My throat is sore, but I don’t notice until I try to speak. “I’m... exhausted.”

“You should take it easy for a while.” she says, leaning over me, her head blocking out the light overhead, which I’m grateful for. “What’s your control phrase?”

“I am a brainless whore.” I say without hesitation, and surprise myself doing so.

Only now do I get a good look at the nurse. She’s fair-looking, and has long grey hair up in a bun. It strikes me as odd because she looks like she’s in just her thirties. “Get used to saying that, you’ll be made to say it a lot.” she says, and puts her hands on me. Unlike what I’ve gotten used to around here, she’s actually performing a check-up. “Any trouble breathing?”

“No. Can I have a glass of water, please?”

In stark contrast to my expectations, she walks off to get me a little cup of water from a dispenser in the corner, and comes back. “Sit up.” she says, and I move as much as I can, but I’m still quite weak, so I don’t make it up far.

I sip the water and at least it makes my throat feel a little better.

Then she sticks me with a hypodermic injector, right in the shoulder. Its three syringes are short but it still bites, as the staple gun-looking device empties a small ampule into my bloodstream.

“Ow.” I complain. I’ve never liked needles of any kind.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little pick-me-up.” she reassures me. “Just take things easy and you’ll be fine. Can you stand?”

I slowly roll onto my side and push myself up, my bare legs reaching down towards the floor. Cautiously I set down one foot at a time, and try to support myself. I’m a bit wobbly, a bit dizzy, but I can manage.

“Okay, 14. Get dressed, and go back to your room. Take the day off, get some rest. You’re going to need it for your big day tomorrow.” the sweet nurse instructs.

“Thank you... I never caught your name.”

“Alyssa Holden.” she smiles. “I’m the head nurse for the project. I patch the subjects up and send them back to work.”

“I’m Alex.” I say, smiling back.

She tuts. “No, honey, you’re not. You’re 14. Just 14. Nothing more.”

Right. Dammit. I forgot for a moment.

“Oh. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

She smiles a little awkwardly. “Don’t forget, sweetie, it... it won’t be pleasant if you call yourself Alex around here again. They’ll punish you quite strictly...”

Well, that’s worrying to say the least.

My clothes are on a little shelf by the bed, and I slowly dress myself as I try not to stumble over. Luckily, my dazed state is only temporary, and by the time I’ve slipped into my sneakers I’m doing pretty well.

I’m feeling much better, in fact. That pick-me-up really picked me up.

My breasts are still quite sore, though, and I think I can see that Asian man’s big fat fingerprints in bruises on them. My Gosh, how hard did he grab me?

And, ooh, when can he grab me again...? The thought makes me blush.

There’s an itch on the back of my neck just above the hairline, and as I scratch it I notice there’s something there.

“Don’t scratch that.” nurse Alyssa warns. “Just let it heal, it won’t take long. A couple days at best.”

“What happened?” I ask her.

“You’ve been tagged, 14. Now that you’re part of our project it’s important we can find you at any time.” she informs me. “You signed yourself over to us, you’re property now.”

Ugh, I feel so worthless. But at least it pays really well.

As I make my way to the door, I find it’s locked.

“Hang on.” she says, and comes over with a little cylindrical gym bag. “This is your uniform. Three tops, three bottoms, three loafers, three panties, three pairs of socks. Take good care of them.”

I blink. “No bras?”

“You’re not to wear bras of any kind for any reason without written authorization from our project lead and... well, let’s just say that’s not gonna happen.”

That’s a bit weird. Well, more than a bit.

Then she hands me an envelope. “Your temporary ID, and a list of rules to follow. A big one would be that you’re not to engage in penetrative sex of any kind outside of the project, not even oral sex, and no masturbation of any kind. You can get intimate with staff members and other subjects, though, it’s the only loophole. Also, of course, you’re restrained to strict secrecy about what we do here.”

I sigh and shrug. “That’ll be easy. I don’t even have a clue what you do here.”

Alyssa smiles. “We’ll do our best to keep it that way, peach.”

I put the envelope into the bag and carry it by the strap over my shoulder.

“Before you go... tell me your control phrase three times fast.”

Without hesitation, I blurt out “I am a brainless whore. I am a brainless whore. I am a brainless whore.”

She smiles. “Are you really?”

Ugh, I feel so dirty. “Well, I’ve signed who-knows-what kind of contract to get humiliated for money so... I can’t say I’m not a whore...” I admit in embarrassment.

She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. Suddenly everything feels a lot better... Not just my body, but my entire mood.

“Honey, everyone’s going to love having you around. They’re just not going to show it, in fact, you’re going to think they hate you. If only you knew how important you are...”

I smile sheepishly, and she pats me on the butt and sends me on my way.

On my way out, the security guard by the elevator stops me again. “Where do you think you’re going?” He steps in between me and the elevator.

“I... I have to go to my room and rest, sir.” I say in a squeaky, quiet voice. Did I do something wrong?

“What’s your control phrase?”

I answer instinctively. “I am a brainless whore.” Ugh, every time I say it, it makes me feel worthless. Like a slap in the face.

He glares me down for a moment, then says “Wait here.” He steps into a little booth across from the elevator, and checks something on his computer.

Finally, he steps out and puts a key card against the reader next to the elevator door.

“You’re expected back here tomorrow at eight. Don’t be late, 14.” he says in a way like I’ve already messed up, like I’m already in trouble.

“R-Right!” I nod, and jump into the cabin.

He uses the key card to let me go back to the ground floor. It’s cramped in the tiny elevator, barely enough for one or two people, and it takes -come to think of it- surprisingly long to ride up to ground level... just how deep is basement two located?

Once I’m out of the elevator, I try exiting the building but I’m stopped by the doors to the waiting room. A staff member has to come by with a key card to get me through, into the waiting room, and out the doors.

Then, there’s the guard station I gotta pass through. Am I going to get felt up again?

What’s all this security for? What are they doing down there?

I know what they’d say; nothing. Because they don’t answer questions.

Then they’d make me say my control phrase to humiliate me.

On my way back to the guard post, two men in their thirties wearing lab coats come the other way. They’re carrying a massive amount of groceries in large, sturdy shopping bags.

“So I hear they found a new girl. One that’s could be perfect for Adachi’s new interface.”

“She’d have to be a complete pushover. I don’t think a girl that pathetic exists.” the other says. “But I hope it’s true, we can’t break the seven-seven-seven barrier.”

“What’s that?”

“Subject 7 can only stay in operating tolerances for seven minutes... then she drops seven points every minute because the control implant overheats.” the first one explains. “The boys in lab three named it the seven-seven-seven barrier. It’s the best we got... hang on.”

They’ve spotted me, and stop, putting their bags down on the path to surround me.

“Who’re you?” the second one demands to know in a firm tone. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’m A—...” I start, but remember what that sweet nurse told me. “I’m 14! I started today.”

They eye me up. “What’s your control phrase?”

Immediately I blurt out “I am a brainless whore.”

Suddenly they back off, but they do so looking at me and laughing, chuckling, right in my face. They’re not even trying to be subtle about it.

Fuck, I feel so worthless. And let’s face it, if they’re talking about a pathetic girl, they’re talking about me...

Thankfully they just pick up their bags and ignore me, walking away as I shuffle on towards the guard post. Humiliated.

I’ve never felt this low before, but if I drop out I’ll end up even lower. My back is against the wall, there’s no use in complaining about it. I just gotta get through it.

The guard in the guard post looks at me grinning, and bursts out laughing when I tell him my control phrase. I feel worthless, and I’m sure that’s not going to change anytime soon, but at least I can get through without getting molested again... or getting all frisky.

I try and find an upside. At least it’s no longer freezing cold. That doesn’t stop my nipples from getting rock hard as the chilled breeze hits my face, though.

No, gotta think positive. At least I won’t get kicked out for missing rent on my student housing. I’ll have plenty of money to buy real food rather than those instant meal packs and the occasional microwave dinner. I won’t have to thin out my soda bottles with tap water to make the flavor last longer...

Upsides.

It’s lively outside of the high security zone. Thank goodness I’m no longer being singled out for attention. They just walk by me, unaware of what’s going on in my head, what happened to me just today...

The bliss of ignorance.

I try not to meet anyone’s eyes, looking down at the path ahead of me as I return to my student housing. Building eight literally could not be further from the high security zone without exiting campus...

I just want to get home as soon as I can and shower. A nice, hot shower. And grab something to eat. I’m starving... my stomach is growling and my tummy is twitching.

I get to my dorm room and the first thing I do is check my phone. There’s a message from the school system in my student mailbox. 400 big ones deposited onto my student account, my paycheck for the week... Oh, I can go get food! Oh man, -I can go get food—!

Suddenly I’m all excited, and grateful. I wasn’t just wasting my time!

Oh, shit... I’m going to have to keep going, won’t I?

Fuck.

The dread sets in as it finally sinks in that I’m going to have to go back, and it’s got a sharp, painful bite.. I mean, I knew I had to go back, but I didn’t realize it as a real thing. It was just something that was said, and I paid it no mind.

Fuck. I’m gonna have to go back there... Who knows what they’ll do to me?

Ugh, let’s try to think of the good things. I can get food. I can start going to the on-campus gym. I can go out to the night club and have fun with all the other people... okay, no. I’m too shy for that.

Suddenly I feel overwhelmed, and my wrists reach for my eyes as I start bawling like a little kid. I just... I don’t have a handle on myself anymore. It just all has to come out.

I sold my soul, didn’t I?

The tears won’t stop coming as I ball up on the worn-out fifth-hand carpet I got to bring some color to my dorm room, and I drop to my knees, and I flop over onto my side. Knees pressing against my breasts, hands against my face.

It’s an ugly-cry. And I’m sure everyone can hear me, but nobody cares. I’m sure nobody cares about me, why would they?

I’m worthless.

The room spins, my body feels like it weighs a million tonnes. I’m weak and frail, and even the brush of the breeze coming in through the crack in the window—it hasn’t closed fully since I moved in—feels like my skin is being rubbed down with sandpaper.

I lie there for goodness knows how long... and then I pass out.

A dark, dreamless sleep. Just completely conked out. Useless. Worthless. Senseless.

I don’t come to for another hour and a half, and by then it’s just past four in the afternoon.

It takes a few seconds for the confusion to wear off. Then I remember why I’m on the floor, and the dread returns. It’s nowhere near as gripping as before, as the crying has made me feel more numb to it.

It’s still there, though, looming overhead. Like a large foot about to drop on my head and squash me like a bug.

As I get up slowly, I notice a white square by the door, on the floor. A note!

I crawl over on all fours to pick it up, and my hanging breasts rubbing together remind me I’m not wearing a bra. Ouch! Gotta be more careful when I move around.

It’s a simple piece of paper folded in three.

There’s a sticker of a sparkly butterfly with a bright pink border on the bottom, as if a child wrote this.

‘Hiya!’ it starts. I can’t make this up.

‘I saw you come in and then I heard you cry. Hope you’re feeling better when you read this. I think I know what you’re going through, and if that’s the case, I really, really, really wanna be friends and hang out.’

I doubt she can know what I’m going through. Unless, of course, if she’s also in the program.

‘I’m also in building eight, room 826. I am a W. S., if you know what I mean! ;)’

Hang on, I think to myself, is that... Is that a control phrase?

It’s signed ‘Jinx’, right next to the butterfly.

Ugh, my stomach hates me, growling so bad and hurting. I haven’t eaten since last night, not counting whatever gross stuff they made me swallow back at the Butler-Noble building... What even was that?

But before I go, I take a quick peek at the list of rules I got. They’re important, because I don’t want to mess up early on by accident and have all this humiliation be for nothing...

I open the little sports bag I got and go over the rules. One of them is a quite elaborate one about secrecy. The no-bra clause is in there. And, surprisingly -though not very surprisingly as I think about it- I’m forbidden from leaving campus grounds. Not only would I need advance permission... but I’d need an escort, too!

At least I’m set for not needing to face my step-dad anytime soon.

And campus is basically a town dedicated to students. I can still go out and have fun... there’s lots of stuff for me to do. Just can’t leave.

On the one hand, it gives me the freedom of being able to afford things. On the other, it takes away a more basic freedom.

Not a freedom I was using much, though.

I’m also not allowed to date without permission... or have sex without permission. No chance of that, I’m an absolute disaster around guys...

Of course there’s the exception about sleeping with staff members that work on the project, and other participants. I can guess what that means... they’re probably going to make me do all kinds of stuff to them... can’t be helped. At least it’s all done in secret.

I’m reminded of Alyssa’s question. And I have to conclude that I -am—, in fact, a whore.

Fuck. Fuuuck. Ugh, I could smack myself. But it’s too late for that now. I’ll just read the rest of the rules. It’s just one page... one boring, laminated page.

Nothing too crazy in here... I guess, considering. Right. Food time!

I trade the track suit for some black, comfy thigh high socks and a blue knee skirt, and throw on my comfy black faux-leather jacket, and slip into my worn, trusty canvas sneakers. Some water in my face, to wash away the tear stains, as I stare into my own eyes in the mirror for encouragement.

“Just go get food. You got this.”

My knees tremble on the way out of the door.

And then I bump into Tabitha.

She looks nervous, and she’s walking a little funny.

“Tabitha?” I ask, as she’s about to just walk right past me. She looks like her mind’s lost in the next week.

She blinks and realizes I’m there. “Alex. Hi.” she says, before taking a good look at me. “Did you... uh, wow.”

“Did I -what—?” I wonder.

“Did you get your tits done?” she asks, looking at me a bit strange. “They’re so... swollen.”

I look down and... yeah! I hadn’t noticed, but they are looking swollen. Was it something they did to me back there?

“Oh! Um, shit. That might be an allergic reaction to something. I dunno, I’ll have it checked out.” I don’t like lying to my friend, but I can’t tell her about the project I joined. It’s probably nothing, anyway.

Fuck... if I was wearing a bra I’d have noticed. I have to mind they don’t spill out of my top when I’m outside...

“Right. So, uh... yeah.” Tabitha says, blinking a bit. She’s looking a bit out of it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just... I got someone over and I really should be getting back to him...”

“Oh, a boyfriend?” I smile. “I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Well... I’m not really dating him.” she tries awkwardly to explain. “I’m like, -his—? And... it’s complicated.”

“You’re -his—?” I blink. “Wait. That’s... what are you saying?”

“You know...?” she shrugs. “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

I want to try and get more out of her, but suddenly she just grabs me and kisses me square on the lips.

It’s certainly by no means unpleasant but it’s completely unexpected. As far as I know, both of us are straight... but I’d kiss her again if I got the chance.

Ugh, what’s gotten into me?

“I’ll ask him if we can hang out sometime.” she smiles, and walks off towards her room.

It’s strange, but I have no time to get into it. I have to get to the campus convenience store before it closes.

She looks fine, anyway. And I have another mystery all my own to worry about. How did my breasts get so big?

I try to covertly feel them without anyone noticing and I find two sore spots in mirrored locations on each tit. They must have injected me with something... They’re two sizes bigger, perhaps three!

Fuck! They’re so sensitive...

Can’t stand around worrying about my massive breasts. I have to get to the store before it closes.

The trip is rather uneventful. I keep my jacket zipped up and even though it tightly binds my chest I make it to the store okay.

But when I get back to my dorm room I look down at my chest as I unzip my jacket and... must have swollen another size!

I get myself in front of the mirror and look at my chest, holding them, feeling and squeezing. I jump in place to make them jiggle and, yes sir, they’re bigger alright.

Fuck. They were big at the start of the week... now they’re just colossal!

Well, not as big as that 7’s twins, But still, huge for me.

Oh, Gosh, I just can’t stop groping myself. They’re so sensitive and sore... but I can’t help myself. What’s gotten into me?

I pull down my top and let my large, swollen udders weigh down into my palms. They’re so heavy and soft, they bulge between my splayed fingers.

Thank goodness they’re still round and plump and shapely. If they started to sag I’d look like a cow... and I don’t even want to think about how much I’d be bullied then!

Then a thought goes through my mind. Are my breasts the only swollen parts?

I raise up my skirt and... oh, shit! I’m lucky I didn’t put on jeans, I wouldn’t be able to take them off again! My butt’s ballooned!

Round and shapely, yes, but oh so massive! And my thighs too! Fuck! What did they inject me with?

I feel two injection bumps on the sides of my cheeks, and on the inner thighs. They must have done so after I was conked out.

Groaning, I look at myself in the mirror, pouting... and realize my lips are puffier too. Nothing major, but definitely bigger!

Dammit... they’re turning me into a living blow-up sex doll!

I... look really hot though.

Fuck... what did I get myself into?

I can’t go to the gym looking like this... I hope it’s temporary and wears off... I hope, I hope.

Ugh! Perverts!

Wait! That Jinx girl... I’d almost forgotten.

Maybe she knows more about what’s going on with me. The note said she’s also in my building, room 826. That’s the top floor, room 26... couldn’t be further from the elevator. I leave my jacket in my room and switch my sneakers for my slippers.

I peek my head out the door. Corridor’s empty. Right.

I’m on the second floor, just like my friend Tabitha, but I’m reasonably close to the elevator. So I lock up and dart for the end of the hall, hiding between the vending machines across from the elevators.

Push the button. The light’s on.

I figure out which one’s moving and get ready to jump in. I really don’t want anyone to see me like this.

Maybe I should have put the track suit back on...

The light flashes, the chime sounds, and the doors start to open, so I just jump inside and...

... ah, fuck! there’s a guy inside! A guy, in the girls’ dorm!

Eww, it’s that creepy dealer that hangs out behind the McKay building where all the sluts go to whore themselves out to pay their tuition. He’s probably here to deliver some party supplies, or whatever other ridiculous euphemism he’s using lately.

He eyes me up and grins. “Don’t I know you?”

I crawl into the corner and weakly shake my head ‘no’.

He steps closer. Jerk! Fuck, I’m boxed in!

Eww, I can smell him... it’s so gross! Take a shower! That scent’s going to haunt my nose for days...

Wait, did the elevator just stop? Ah, shit! He pushed the ‘hold’ button! What’s he planning?

I’m getting cornered by him as he breathes all over me.

“I’m K-Dog...” he says. His name’s Kevin Kyle Smallwood, and he’s white middle class, but he’s also a delusional asshole who’s seen one too many shitty rap videos. “What’s your name?”

“A-Alex...” I say quietly. Fuck, why am I even talking to him?

“Ain’t you that bitch that fell off that boat?” he grins. “That shit was hysterical.”

Of course he has to bring that up. I’m not feeling low enough for his tastes, probably.

And I doubt he can even spell ‘hysterical’.

I don’t reply, but then he gets closer. Eww, his bulge -what little he has- is rubbing against my thigh. And he’s smelling my hair! Gross!

He puts his sticky hands on my stomach and lower back, sliding one hand up to my chest and the other down to my ass. I squirm and struggle though weakly, but the message is clear.

“Damn, girl, don’t be playing hard to get. I know what girls like you want.”

You don’t know jack shit about girls, asshole. Of course I’d never say that.

Doctor Leonard’s right about me. I’m such a fucking doormat.

He firmly grabs one tit and one cheek, feeling and squeezing. His bony fingers are like daggers, digging into my soft skin.

I groan in obvious discomfort.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he grins as he’s rubbing his crotch against me.

I gotta do something... before he admits to liking that one mob movie -the popular one that’s actually pretty shit if you’re being honest- and makes me ‘say hello to his little friend’... emphasis on the ‘little’ part.

So I try pushing him off. At least he lets go of me, but he steps closer again.

“Bitches like you are all the same. Don’t know a good thing if it stepped up and grabbed you by the ass.” he huffs, and smacks my ass hard.

Ow! Fucker!

“I’m expanding my business and I could use a girl like you... you wanna make some quick money? Fifty bucks a guy, and I’ll take forty percent as your manager...”

I nervously shake my head no.

“You really should think about it. Make you a nice bit of money”

“I’m... busy... with... my job.” I squeak. Ugh, I could cry! Why’s this happening to me? Why him? Why now?

“You can still make a little on the side you stupid bitch.” he groans. “What’s your fucking problem? You need a man telling you what to do, that’s what. Cuz you blind.”

Impudent child! I’d love to kick his ass... if I wasn’t such a pushover.

I have to do -something—! He’s liable to push me down and just fuck me... oh Gosh, what if this asshole gets me pregnant? My life would be over!

Thankfully, I manage to slip out of my corner towards the button panel and disengage the hold button. The elevator continues rising, and he tuts me.

He spits at me, though “Whatever, you’re such a slut. Don’t nobody like a cock tease anyway.”

We arrive on the fifth floor and the elevator stops, and the doors open.

“Later, ya fat whore.” he complains as he bumps into me on his way out the elevator, knocking me up against the cabin wall.

Fucking dick.

Aw, geez, I feel so gross and sticky and dirty because of him... I’m going to need a thousand baths and a million showers!

At least I’m rid of him.

The doors close and I could sink to my knees, and have another cry. What has my life become?

Am I the world’s punching bag?

The chime sounds again, and the doors open. Top floor.

Be brave now, Alex, and find this Jinx girl.

But the second I step out of the elevator and round the corner towards 826 there’s a naked guy in the way. Fully naked and... so big... and... so muscular... and... oh, wow, he’s so dreamy...

Fuck. Get it together, girl!

It’s Chett. Strong, masculine jaw line. Big doe eyes, silky blonde hair. Built like a brick shithouse, this one, and wearing nothing but a condom around his huge erection and a smile on his face.

“Oh, hey!” he smiles at me, midst dropping a trash bag down the garbage chute. “Alex, right?”

I freeze, going pale but blushing profusely. I’m so intimidated by him, only because I’ve got a huge crush on him. I first met him on that boat and... me panicking when I saw him is how I fell off in the first place.

Awkwardly and nervously I nod.

His smile is melting my brain. “So nice to see you again. I never got your number.”

Oh Gosh, I could explode.

I open my mouth to speak but only weak, stuttered syllables come out.

“Wait here. I’m going to write down my number for you.” he says.

I don’t reply because... well, I can’t do much of anything right now.

Oh, wow, he’s just so big and manly. And when I say big I mean -monstrously huge—! Trying to blow him would put you at risk of dislocating your jaw on both hinges! If that ramrod goes inside you, you won’t walk straight for a month!

I almost feel sorry for whichever girl he’s here to mount... at least, I would, if I wasn’t so insanely jealous.

Ugh, he’s such a great guy. He’s here on a football scholarship, but he’s training to be a veterinarian and he also took second place at a bodybuilding contest back East.

When he returns, he hands me a piece of paper torn from a spiral notebook, with his full name and telephone number on it.

“I know you’re shy but you seem really cool and I’d love to get to know you better so... if you don’t wanna call, we can just text. Or maybe we can just grab lunch sometime if you don’t feel like talking, but you do wanna hang out.”

Am I dreaming? Did I die and go to heaven?

He smiles and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “Bye, Alex. Hope to hear from you really soon!”

I do the unthinkable. Rather than say ‘goodbye’ back I shuffle over and hug him, his powerful erection throbbing up against my waist and the tip stuck between my huge, fat tits as they press flat against his rock hard body made of muscles and raw sex.

Ugh, kill me now!

But then he does the unthinkable as well! He chuckles, and kisses me on the top of my head.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! I gotta say something -anything- or he’s going to think I’m a complete idiot!

“I...” I start, looking up at him, his cock throbbing against my needy body. “I... have a huge crush on you...”

Ah, shit! Why the fuck did I say that?!

I go all pale and freeze up. That’s it. My life is over!

He just smiles and leans in to whisper in my ear. “I have a little crush on you, too...”

Holy shit! I didn’t know I could orgasm with just words...

I... I... I...

I’m suddenly in the hallway, in front of a closed door. I can hear some girl getting railed deep and hard on the other side, while they’re really torturing those bed springs. I can’t tell if her screams are those of pleasure or pain. Probably both.

Though the more I listen, the more it sounds like the latter over the former.

I’d say ‘poor girl’ but I’d give anything to take her place...

Wait, did I just... I mean, he was here and I was... And then he...

Shit! I blacked out in his arms. He must think I’m such a weirdo!

Quickly I grab the piece of paper clamped between my breasts and open it... He really did give me his number!

It’s like I’m on a cloud... I feel like dancing. I spin and I turn and I giggle and I... I...

Wait. Shit. Why am I in a corridor again?

Right! I was trying to find this Jinx girl!

It’s at the end of this corridor. I can see it from here.

Ugh, I’m nervous to meet someone else in the program... they’re in the program, right? Maybe they can shed some light on things.

I shuffle over and collect my courage to raise my hand towards the door.

And I knock.