Cuntanamo Bay

 

CUNTANAMO BAY

 

Part 1 of ?

by SensoryOverlord, 2007

 

Time:  September 2012

Place: What was once America.

 

 

 

Timeline

--------

 

2007-2008     110th Congress

 

Jul 3, 2008   911 Truth Riots across USA. President Bush declares National Emergency, invokes

              special powers.

 

Aug 10, 2008  President Bush

              Executive Order: Strengthening Federal Efforts to Defend the Security of America

 

Nov 4, 2008   Rudy Giuliani (GOP) wins presidency; in shock move offers VP to Hillary (DEM),

              American Jesus Party (AJP) takes 15 House seats and 4 Senate seats.

 

Nov 10, 2008  First blood-sugar powered implantable neural interface successful.

 

2009-2010     111th congress

 

Apr 25, 2009  Small nuke attack on Houston. 200,000 dead. Becomes known as the

              '11-11 attack' for numerological reasons. Evidence on prior blogs

              its a false flag, but the public do not hear this and so...

 

Mar 4, 2009   3rd Gulf war begins. USA loses four entire aircraft carrier groups with

              all hands, to Hizbulla truck-launched supersonic anti-ship missiles

              (made in India and China) during first day of hostilities.

 

Mar 5, 2009   USA and Israel launch stealth nuclear bombing raid combined with ICBMs

              against Iran, without any declaration of war, or any evidence Iran involved

              in US losses.

              Virtually all missiles and aircraft are intercepted and destroyed by Russian

              supplied air-defence systems. Two ICBMs and one cruise missile get through.

              12 million die.

 

Mar 6, 2009   UN passes unanimous vote of censure of USA. USA vetos motion.

              Russia and China walk out. China begins dumping US government bonds on

              international markets.

 

Mar 7, 2009   Iran nukes Israel flat using Russian supersonic stealth cruise missiles,

              after declaring war 12 hours before attack and listing planned targets.

              They'd had nukes all along, since 1995.

              Much of the world cheers.

 

Mar-Jul 2009  US dollar value falls 60% against basket of other currencies. Oil imports

              fall dramatically, petrol prices go through roof. Remaining US economy goes

              into severe recession. Much popular anti-govt unrest.

 

Apr 19, 2009  CIA backed pro-USA coup #3 in Venezuela. US marines land, Pentagon declares

              victory 'crucial to national survival' due to US inability to buy oil anywhere.

 

Apr... 2009   War spreads across Sth America, as countries side with or against US oil interests.

 

May 2, 2009   President Giuliani signs military Draft into effect.

 

May 4, 2009   President Giuliani signs Executive Order: Facilitation of Information

              Gathering Regarding Domestic Terrorist Organisations

 

Jul 12, 2009  Internal emails and financial records leaked via a popular Blog, proving

              Guliani and AIPAC/Mossad planned the Houston nuke false flag attack, to

              justify attack on Iran.

 

Jul 18, 2009  US military arrests entire US Executive, House and Senate, as well as all

              Israeli passport holders in USA. Hearings commence. Initial interrogations

              crack the 911 conspiracy as well, resulting in several hundred more arrests

              including many high officers within the military.

              Transitional military rule begins.

 

Jul 27 2009   Pres. Giuliani, VP Hillary and House Speaker Pelosi assasinated shortly

              before due to give evidence. The Mossad hit team responsible is captured

              alive.

 

Oct 5, 2009   International war crimes trials of arrested neocon/Bush Gulf War

              criminals and 793 identified 911 & 11-11 conspirators begin in the Hague.

              Number of co-conspirators expected to reach several thousands.

              Most owners and upper level management of mainstream media under arrest

              on 911 and 11-11 collusion charges.

 

Oct 28, 2009  Huge government database of paid internet forum shills' and spam mailers'

              personal names, addresses and salary payment details leaked via internet.

 

Oct 29, 2009  Night of the SPAM Assassins. Over 12,000 spammers and shills are murdered.

              Courts rule 'justifiable homicide'.

 

Jul-Nov 2009  Public mood in America swings to extreme religious reactionism and

              global isolationism. Revulsion and national self-loathing in response to

              revealed massive scale and depth of infiltration of evil into US politics.

              Desperate wars for energy survival continue in Sth America. USA unable to

              project military power to Middle East after 3 more carrier battle groups

              lost to pip-squeak-militia missiles in Sth African oil-related skirmishes.

              Military analysts finally admit era of naval power is over; ended by cheap

              new anti-ship missiles against which defence is impossible.

 

Nov 8, 2009   All-new-candidates elections for House and Senate. AJP wins slightly

              over one third of seats. Military executive rule continues in co-op with

              House speaker Anderson (AJP)

 

Feb 18, 2010  An Act to Restore Public Morality

              Passes by 3 to 1 in House.

 

May 5,  2010  First successful WiFi-linked processing neural-partner(tm) implant

              human safety trials completed.

 

2011-2012     112th congress

 

Jun 11, 2011  AJP's 'America the Pure' program instituted.

              Over 500,000 patriotic young women sign up in first six months.

 

Sept 2012     ----story point of time----

 

Nov 15, 2012  Feldman (AJP) wins presidency,

              AJP gains huge majority of House and Senate.

              Campaign slogan: A Moral America!

              Groups attempting to document evidence of massive electoral fraud are

              arrested under the Domestic Terrorist laws, and vanish.

 

Nov 25, 2012  An Act for Enforcement of the Laws to Restore Public Morality

              Passes with only two opposed in House. Within 3 weeks, both those

              opponents have 'suicided'.

 

 

              - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Acronyms

--------

AJP    American Jesus Party              Church-State separation fails, spectacularly.

DHS    Department of Homeland Security   Brilliantly effective organisation, to protect America.

DHM    Department of Homeland Morality   Same thing, but about public morals. Brilliantly effective.

MCF    Moral Correctional Facility       Think FEMA camps, but run by DHM - even better.

MOI    Monitored Orgasm Induction        What it says, via an MPD implant.

MPD    Moral Purity Defender             Sexual activity regulation bio-implant.

MPD-M  Male version of MPD               Both versions of MPDs have same code-base, but

MPD-F  Female version of MPD               differing physical forms and neural interface points.

PC     Purity Clinic                     Where MPDs are fitted, and post-op issue assistance.

 

 

              - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Extracts/Reviews of Key Directives and Legislation

 

    --------------

 

Office of the Press Secretary

August 10, 2008

 

President George W. Bush

Executive Order: Strengthening Federal Efforts to Defend the Security of America

 

By the authority vested in me as Acting President by the laws of the United States of America during the present National Emergency, in order to strengthen the security of America, it is hereby ordered as follows:

 

Persons considered by relevant law enforcement authorities (see apdx 1) to be participating in coordinated activities deemed harmful to the national war effort, are Domestic Terrorists, and may be arrested and held incommunicado and without charge or trial in Department of Homeland Security detention facilities, for the duration of the national emergency.

 

    --------------

 

Office of the Press Secretary

May 4, 2009

 

President Rudy Giuliani

Executive Order: Facilitation of Information Gathering Regarding Domestic Terrorist Organisations

 

By the authority vested in me as Acting President by the laws of the United States of America during the present National Emergency, in order to strengthen the security of America, it is hereby ordered as follows:

 

Persons held as Domestic Terrorists are declared to be not subject to any standing articles of United States law, or international treaties on Human Rights. As such, interrogation techniques used may take full advantage of technological advances to facilitate extraction of information, and also to maintain prisoners as potential sources of further information for the duration of the national emergency.

 

     --------------

 

Feb 18, 2010  An Act to Restore Public Morality

 

Review

This act, one of the first workable compromises of the nearly evenly three-way split 'all new' Congress of Nov 2009, aka the '111th Congress Take Two', was an attempt by the AJP party (now a significant force for the first time) to carry through their extensive platform of moral reforms. The Act is complex and voluminous, with sections addressing various aspects of public morality. Such as business ethics, relationship of man to the environment, honesty in reporting, connections between spiritual beliefs and the State, wealth distribution, animal management ethics, sound money, banning of Rap music, establishment of the Department of Homeland Morality, etc.

 

Here we will examine only the sections of the Act related to Sexual Morality.

 

The central assertion of the Sexual Morality title of the Act is the immoral nature and socially harmful effects of 'sexual acts' outside of lawful marriage. However note that the Act attempts to encompass an awareness of biological realities. A preamble to the Sexual Morality title reviews medical understandings of the human reproductive system. It acknowledges that the male reproductive system naturally involves 'emissions', with frequency varying over a wide range among individuals and age, the harmful effects on health of suppressing these, and thus the practical necessity of their inducement at times of convenience. It qualifies by creating an offence of 'excessive, habitual or inappropriate sexual practices'. The definition of which is vague, allowing for judicial flexibility regarding problems such as 'offensive masturbators', etc, grouped under the general charge "Moral Sabotage of the National Purity".

 

It then goes on to assert the absence of evidence for any such absolute requirement for 'release' in female physiology, the positive moral virtues of abstinence from sexual dissipation, and the psychologically addictive and corrupting nature of solitary, unnatural or sexual acts out of wedlock. Particularly among youths and early adulthood.

 

The emphasis of the act is on 'expression of principles' rather than actual regulation of what, after all, are generally private activities and thus an area in which regulations are currently unenforceable. For the few actual offences defined, the main thrust is towards rehabilitation, and penalties consist mostly of commitment to special correctional programs and avoidance of further burdening the penal system. Though with an option for 'public chastisement' under wide judicial discretion in cases of singular excess.

 

 

A subsection buried deep in the act provides for a program of covert domestic surveillance, for purposes of collection of statistical data on the moral health of the nation. This was intended to provide an informed basis for possible future legislative initiatives. Particular focus on RFID'd teen girls (many chipped earlier during 'protect your daughter against kidnapping' campaigns.) Those chips actually transmit not only ID but also physiological data, and this Act provides a budget for collecting and archiving that information in a national database maintained by DHM. For the purposes of scientific study of national sexual mores, the Act also establishes an oversight project within DHM, required to perform statistically random selections from the set of chipped individuals, and perform covert 'fine focus' instrumentation of livingspaces, together with 24/7 lifestyle surveillance.

 

Regrettably, the studies completed over the next few years using the data gathered under this provision, revealed an alarming incidence of amoral behaviour among the nation's single women and teens.

 

Note: There are claims that the selection process used by DHM was insufficiently random, and resulted in bias towards certain demographics - for instance females under 25, in a narrow height/weight/fitness range, and whose chip-data already included frequent 'arousal' flags. Another potentially valid methodology critique rests on the presently unusually high demographic of young single women, due to numbers of young men away fighting or lost in the wars. Vis. estimate from office of statistics that up to 30% of women presently in 18 to 25 age range may never find husbands. Counter arguments point to these figures as further evidence that in present challenging times there is exceptional need for national moral vigilance.

 

 

     --------------

 

 

Nov 25, 2012  An Act for Enforcement of the Laws to Restore Public Morality

 

Review

Studies carried out under the Act to Restore Public Morality had alarmed the strategists of the AJP. At the time of that Act, it was considered that matters addressed by the studies (private sexual practices) were effectively beyond the reach of legislators, due to impossibility of enforcement.

However in recent years technology had made surprising advances, and the new WiFi-linked processing neural-partner(tm) implants were proving exceptionally versatile and effective in trials, both animal and as aids for disabled humans. The American Jesus Party had privately funded experimental development of human implantable augmentations to the human reproductive system, culminating in the remarkably capable Moral Purity Defender (MPD), a sexual activity regulation bio-implant. This passed human-safety trials in May 2010. In Jun 2011  AJP kicked off its voluntary 'America the Pure' program with a massive advertising campaign emphasising issues of patriotism, moral purity and feminine virtue. In the public's mood of rejection of the amorality that had led to the Disasters of 2007 through 2009, this theme was very successful. The program enjoyed massive sign-on rates, thus solidly establishing use of MPDs (and also returning the AJP's development costs ten-fold.)

 

In this atmosphere, plus AJP's massive electoral mandate of the Nov 2011 elections, President Feldman (AJP) and the absolute AJP majority in both House and Senate felt that legislative action in support of Public Morality was both warranted and workable. Hence the Nov 2012 Act for Enforcement of the Laws to Restore Public Morality.

 

This mandates the compulsory fitting of 'Moral Purity Defenders' (MPD) to all individuals at risk of moral temptation or subversion by enemy propagandists. This includes males and females above the age of 12, and all single adults up to the age of 30. The devices are miniature implants, invisible and undetectable in normal life. Advanced biotech, they interface to nerve nodes involved with the sexual process, able to both monitor and 'modulate' nervous and hormonal activity. They also have remote RF interface capability, and are powered via blood sugar electrochemistry. They are highly programmable, but in the majority of wearers they are fitted in the simple factory default operation mode. The full capabilities are not widely advertised, and some aspects are state secrets. Only DHM Purity Clinics and correctional institutions possess the equipment and codes to access full MPD functionality.

 

The publicity campaign emphasises links between 'foreign terrorists who hate us for our purity' who have infiltrated the print and media with the purpose of spreading corrupting and immoral filth among the nation's future hope - the youth. Advertising campaign includes many brief clips from 'examples' (with the offensive bits blacked out), and shots of Arabic looking 'pornographers' being arrested, beautiful teen 'targets of pornography' in bedroom shots suggestive of the girl struggling against shockingly arousing images in her mind, and giving in to amoral urges. Media stories of SWAT team raids on 'pornography safe houses.' Campaign goes on to declare that the only sensible way to combat and repair such dire psychological damage is via modern technology. Used to assist victims in resisting such perversions. Clips of happy shiny people in clean and perfect lives. America triumphs! America will never allow terrorists to destroy her God-fearing righteous purity! (Notifications of group appointments at neighbourhood Purity Clinics will be issued via schools and in the mail.)

 

 

              - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Chapter 1

 

The demonstration

------------------

 

Sept 2012

 

The scene: A public demonstration against the ongoing South American Wars, the military draft, austerity measures, and the DHSDs - the Dept. of Homeland Security Disappeared. It began peacefully; the organisers had a valid permit for demonstration in a public place, several thousand peaceful demonstrators from all walks of life turned up to hold placards while standing quietly in the designated fenced-off area. Then a small group of protestors dressed rather scruffily, with berets and Karl Marx buttons and other such affectations had arrived, screaming abuse at passers by and police, thrown rocks, smashed windows of a draft office, and set fire to a parked car. At that point a very large contingent of DHS Blackjacks had suddenly shown up and baton charged the main crowd. People ran in all directions, mostly into back streets where they were cut off into smaller groups, teargassed, then herded via razorwire barriers to ramps into armoured DHS 'white trucks' - large semitrailers with windowless but ventilated white rear containers.

 

Mary had lost sight of her new boyfriend Russel in the panicked running. She found herself coughing and weeping from the gas, packed with perhaps 30 others in a white trucking container. Its sole concession to 'human cargo' was the rows of grab straps hanging from the ceiling, that allowed the standing room only crush to avoid injuries as the truck moved. After some hours of alternate driving and long motionless pauses, the truck disgorged them into a large holding area with many hundreds of others, most of them from today's demonstration. Their cell phones didn't work - though they seemed to have signal. Few toilets, very little food (amazingly tiny Big Macs) shortage of water to drink. Wire-walled pens in huge warehouse building. Gradual movement through the series of pens. After two days, very worn down, Mary reaches a DHS evaluator.

He records her details, Real-ID number and address, marital status (single, renting a small student flat alone), occupation (arts-philosophy student at university), takes her picture, then his computer systems match her face to police & DHS video recordings from the demo. He reviews the sequences showing her, reads some other files the system provides, looks her up and down, then has her step in front of a large machine who's controls or screen are inside a curtained booth she can't see into. He calls for her to rotate around, slowly, and she does. Emerging with a smirk, he has her empty all her pockets, runs a detector wand over her, bags her possessions and writes her name and address on the satchel, drops it into a chute. Tells her not to worry, she'll be released soon and her possessions returned after examination. Has her step through door H ahead and follow directions. As she's walking to the door he calls the next person in line.

 

On the other side, there is a DHS blackjack seated at a desk with his boots up, reading the newspaper's front page comics. He disinterestedly directs her to continue on down the corridor and through the door at the end. She does. Lift music playing, fairly loud.

Quite a long passage, with no side doors. The end door is a solid, heavy affair, that clicks as she approaches, and slides open with a soft hiss. It shuts immediately behind her, with another hiss and click. There is no handle on either side. The room she is in is small, with three people present. Including two fully armed DHS blackjacks, who stand at alert on either side of the door she came through, eyeing her silently through their thick plastic face shields.

 

Directly in front of her there is a plain desk. A round-spectacled, balding official in DHS clerical uniform seated behind it, looking at an iPortal gestures impatiently at the thin screen briefly with his iGloved hand, then rises and comes around the desk to her side. She notices the tiny silver crucifix pinned to his shirt collar, and sighs. Another one of those...   "Mary Attwood, is it? Yes? We have a lot of people to get through today, so please don't delay us. We are required to fully search you before your release. A formality, but it is mandatory. Please step behind this curtain and remove all your clothing, shoes and any jewellery or body ornaments. Place your garments in the tray provided. Hurry please, and this will be very brief."

 

She hesitates. "You're really letting me go?"

He gestures towards a curtained space to her right. "Yes, yes, of course. We are only after the troublemakers who destroyed public property. Hurry up please."

 

After two days of little sleep, no washing, minimal food and water, living in her clothes, and nagging fear of what might become of her in this hell of mass arrest and isolation, especially given the whispered rumours she's heard of people who 'just vanish', the prospect of getting out of here overrides her fear of undressing for this functionary.

She walks behind the curtain. It's a small space like a shop's changing cubicle. A low bench on one side bears a battered plastic tray. Sighing, she begins removing her clothes, starting with her shoes. For the demo she'd worn practical joggers, with ankle socks. Her jeans were also from the 'practical' side of her wardrobe, as was her cotton hoodie. Unfortunately she'd been anticipating a very special romantic evening with Russel after the morning demo and afternoon classes, and she'd worn panties and bra of the most 'impractical' kind. As she slipped off her hoodie and then jeans, she hoped that she could get through this without anyone seeing those, let alone her in them. They looked... well, as sensual as she could manage. Which on her figure, was very. The bra was a lacy, mostly transparent gauze affair in a deep burgundy, providing more visual embellishment than coverage or support to her firm Cs. Fortunately the fairly thick material of the fleece lined hoodie had provided cover for her nipples, which for most of her time in the holding warehouse had been distractingly erect.

 

As they were now, and with the hoodie removed, the lightweight bra was doing nothing to hide the twin protrusions. For about the hundredth time since she'd arrived in this place, she cursed the awful timing. Russel had turned out to be a wonderful man, and months ago she had decided that he should be the one. Her first. But she was such a reserved girl, inexperienced in matters of love and intimacy, that she'd found it very difficult to actually proceed. Not that he didn't try, and very gallantly, but she just couldn't bring herself to stop sidestepping. While spending many sleep-deprived nights in her bed alone, fantasising about saying yes, and the things he'd do with her. What it might feel like, to have someone else doing what her fingers were. A habit she'd always felt uncomfortable with, and which since she'd met Russel was really becoming something of an unhealthy obsession. Her once or twice a week in her teens had been bad enough, but two or three times a night had to be abnormal! It was affecting her studies even.

 

Finally, nearly three weeks ago, she'd realised the situation was ridiculous - she had to get over her shyness with Russel, and also prove to herself that she wasn't hopelessly addicted to masturbation. He wanted it, she wanted it, and surely the masturbation problem would go away once she had the real thing. The thought occurred to her that she could combine both projects - if she forced herself to simply stop touching herself, and swore the next touches there would be his, she had a pretty good idea of how long her shyness would stand in the way.

 

It took her about a week of that before she was able to make herself invite Russel to her place for dinner that night, two weeks in the future. He'd seen her place a few times, but they'd never spent an evening there before. They had both been quite busy in that interval, and hadn't seen much of each other. But each time, she'd reminded him of the date. She thought probably she'd even been fairly obvious about looking forward to it very much, since her 'no touch' vow to herself was turning out to be extremely difficult to follow, and getting more difficult every day. By the time her special date was one week off, she was beginning to find her body's responses to abstinence quite alarming. She'd expected to become more horny, but what she got was something else entirely; something far more intense and distracting than anything in her past experience. It was as if her sex had set up camp right in the centre of her frontal lobes, and started practicing on the jungle drums 24 hours a day. If someone had told her in the past that it was possible for female genitals to become virtually permanently engorged, and that an erect clitoris could actually _ache_ with a constant throbbing, strained-feeling desire, she'd never have believed them. But there it was... her own private proof.

 

Could it be true, what the American Jesus Party tracts claimed, that masturbation was an addictive and damaging sickness? Were they serious about the rest of it? She'd stewed in a peculiar mix of fear that she'd permanently corrupted herself, determination to stick to her resolution to avoid touching herself again, anticipation of the approaching date and certainty that she'd throw herself at him, worry about what he'd think of her when he discovered her condition, and.... she had to admit, some dark part of her was somehow enjoying these feelings - the throbbing need, the constant wetness, the sheer animal sluttyness of it all. She'd accidentally caught part of an AJP televangelist sermon the day before the demonstration, and as the man preached to the ecstatic audience about today's epidemic of abominable habits, the debasement of the principles of feminine purity and the dependence of the nation's salvation on a God-loving return to the purity of abstinence before marriage and motherhood, before God, she'd found her heartbeat racing, the pulse strong between her legs. Was she part of America's problem? Had she really corrupted herself before God with her dirty habits, so much so that she was lost to sinfulness? All those tearful teenager girls and young women from the audience, who had come forward at the end to commit themselves to the AJP's 'America the Pure' program - what was that about? How did the program 'guarantee to save sinners from themselves'? She'd made a mental note to herself to enquire, but the approaching evening with Russel had somehow pushed it out of her mind.

 

Or rather her desires had. She'd thought about it a lot in the holding centre. Even this frightening and uncomfortable experience didn't seem to subdue the new tenant of her mind. She'd had a constant losing battle to try and ignore the demanding state of her body. It just wouldn't leave her alone.  At least there hadn't been any opportunity to break her vow - there was never any privacy, not even doors on the toilet cubicles. The first thing she'd do once she was out of here was find Russel and have that date. Immediately.

 

 

 

She unhooked the bra, and laid it on the tray. Nothing to be done about her nipples except hope no one commented on their very obvious protrusion. Then her panties - the same deep burgundy, and also mostly gauze, except for the curve of elastic waist band high over her full hips, and the narrow strip, almost a string, plunging down between her rounded rear cheeks. The front was very low cut, barely covering her small patch of dark fur. Which was clearly visible behind the embroidered gauze front panel anyway. She noticed as she pulled them off, that most of the gusset was visibly dampened with her secretions. She shuddered - two days without a wash or change of clothes; luckily Russel wasn't seeing (or smelling) this.

 

She slipped the bra and stained panties into her folded hoodie, then sighed. Better get this over with. How bad can it be? She called out "Er... excuse me, now what?"

 

There's a sound of a chair pulling back, then footsteps. 'Spectacles man' steps into the cubicle with an empty plastic tray, picks up the one with her clothes, replaces it with the empty one, then as he keeps walking briskly forward, he grabs the curtain end and abruptly draws the entire curtain back along its overhead track. Leaving her suddenly completely exposed to the room. The two blackjacks are looking directly at her. She shrieks, and tries to cover herself, looking frantically around for something to hide behind. There isn't anything. She is so shocked she is barely aware of what he does with her clothes, but in a moment it sinks in that he took a few steps more to a hinged panel on the wall, swung the panel down by its handle, then emptied the tray of her clothes into the chute behind it. Wait... her clothes...

 

She is just starting to protest, raising a hand forward in a shocked gesture, when she finds her wrists grabbed, and pulled around behind her. A quick 'snick' sound, and her wrists are suddenly fastened together behind her back. She tries to twist around, and finds its the two DHS guards who have hold of her, their heavy thigh-length black riot jackets and helmets as menacing as always. One is still holding onto her wrists, pulling them up past the small of her back. The other quickly reaches around her waist with some kind of strap, which he connects with a sharp 'click', then tightens firmly against her body with a sharp tug and a ratcheting 'zzzzt!' sound.

Now she is really starting to panic; fear rising in her mind and her heart racing. She feels like running, screaming, and is just opening her mouth and taking a deep breath, when two more things happen. The goon behind her, holding her wrists, moves them downwards again, and there's a movement of her waist band, then another light 'snick' sound. Suddenly her wrists are not only bound together, but also fastened closely to the middle of the belt behind her. Simultaneously, the other blackjack moves very quickly, and pops some rounded object into her wide open mouth, just as she is starting to shout "Hey!..." Before she gets half way into the shout, he's pulled something around behind her head and done that same 'click-zzzt!' thing again. The sides of her mouth are pulled back, and the object settles deeper into her mouth and seems to expand, so her shout comes out as "Hemmmmfff!" trailing off into a muffled hum.

 

Then the goons switch their grip to her upper arms, and stand to either side of her, holding her in place as she ineffectually tries to throw her body free of them. They don't let her put much weight on the ground, so she achieves very little.

Mr Spectacles stands in front of her, openly eyeing her body up and down, a superior smirk on his lips. "Now, Miss er.. Attwood, as I said, we have a lot of people to process today. So to dispel any ideas you may have of holding us up here, I will demonstrate this just once." He gestures at her with his iGlove, making a specific finger formation. Its as if he'd punched her in the stomach - she doubles over, gasping in pain. The belt, the belt... it shocked her, ohhh it hurts...

 

"That was a small, brief sample. Please don't require me to provide further demonstrations, I find it distasteful. Just relax, cooperate, and this routine will be over with very shortly."

She straightens up again, mostly because the goons force her upright despite her zapped belly muscles still knotting spastically. Spectacles has already turned away, and moved to the other curtain, which he draws back with a flick of his wrist. Revealing... Her knees go weak, and her stomach adds a flip-flop to its subsiding spasms. The scene's purpose is very clear, and it tells her that this 'search' _can_ be bad after all.

 

The revealed space is tiled, walls and a sunken floor all in clinical white. In the centre of the space is a very utilitarian construction of stainless steel tubing and minimal moulded plastic surfaces. There's a flat sloping top, about waist height, and big enough to lay a person's body on. Not long enough for their legs, but thats because their legs are obviously intended to be placed into the twin moulded cavities below the higher end of the bench. As the goons begin to march her towards the thing, she understands exactly how she will be arranged. In a brief moment, her idea is confirmed as they lift her and place her front down on the barely padded cold top, then grip her legs, spreading them apart and dropping her knees and calves down into the moulded fittings. Her legs from mid thigh down feel the press of cold plastic, as brief adjustments are made. She feels straps flipped up behind her legs and torso, then jerked tight. In just a few seconds she is immovably fixed in place.

 

Her head is about a foot lower than her bottom, with her body secured along the sloping surface. Her forehead rests on pads, lifted up a little so she can look forward into the room. More pads under her shoulders and body from lower ribcage to hips. Her breasts hang free through a wide gap in the benchtop. Her arse is thrust up into the air, with her thighs vertical and widespread. Her calves are held horizontally, continuing the spread line of her thighs. Her wrists are still fastened to her belt behind her back, and everything is strapped down - she can hardly move a muscle. Though after that shock to the stomach, she's scared to even try. Besides, her mind is fully occupied with thoughts of the sight she must be presenting Spectacles and the two DHS goons standing behind her. Her slit... she can feel it has pulled open, the cool air against her dampness. How damp, how swollen, she doesn't like to think.

 

As her eyes wander about the sparse room, she happens to look at the iPortal's screen, only a couple of meters away. One more shock - on the screen is a ceiling-cam's view of the interior of the 'change room' in which she'd just undressed. Its a very high resolution, color image - of herself in her underwear. There's also another window open behind that view, with partially visible an odd, lo-res grey-monochrome image of a human female figure, bald and naked, with strange blank spaces instead of eyes, and assorted objects visible where the person would have pockets, were they wearing clothes. The objects look odd, like they are x-ray images, but the person... a little blurry, yet only skin is visible, not bones. What? Then she does a double take. Wait... that would be a mobile phone, and keys, and pocketbook with coins... all where she normally keeps hers. And the figure, that's hers. But bald? Eyeless?

 

She hears the sound of rubber gloves being pulled on, several short 'twkk!'s as glove fingertips are stretched and let go. A cool hand is placed on her arse, and Spectacle's voice interrupts her brain-whirl. "You look much more human in visible light, than in the millimetre wave imager. So does almost everyone. Rather exhibitionist taste in undergarments by the way. Such a shame to dispose of them, I'd have liked to send you on with your nature so clearly advertised." He sighs, as if at great tragedy. "But regulations... regulations... where would we be if people just ignored them? Chaos and anarchy, like you lot tried to create the other day. Hmpf! Now, lets see if you've got something hidden away in..." His voice trails to a halt.

 

The silence continues, as she feels a single fingertip trace down the curve of her rear, and in towards her sex. She is dying inside - she knows what he is seeing. Her achingly swollen, puffy sex, with her pubic hairs damp and matted around and over it, and even now a fresh trickle of her juices leaking from her vagina and down the front of her splayed slit. Tickling as it goes, teasing most of all her hardened clit as it strains uncomfortably with each throbbing pulse of her heart against its enveloping fleshy cover.

 

"Tsk tsk tsk. In here.... Miss Attwood, you appear to have something on your mind."

The finger traces around her labia, stroking aside the damp hairs still attempting futilely to hide her secrets. She feels him spread them back against her inner thighs, her stomach, laying them radially away from her open sex, sticking to her skin with her own fluids. Then without any niceties, that finger slides easily and deeply into her wet centre, is withdrawn, and then two slide in again. She cannot help herself - its the first time she has ever felt anything but her own middle finger or thin tampons, and the feeling is... very powerful. Her body strains against the straps, shuddering. She realises through the haze and shock that her hips are trying to thrust onto his fingers, not trying to draw away. Her pussy, invaded, seems to be pulsing, contracting spasmodically, as if welcoming the intrusion. She huffs, panting through her nose and through the small gaps around the thing in her mouth. Who is she kidding, that feels... ohhhh... oh god, soooo... She gives up even trying to stop her body thrusting, and lets herself be carried away by the feelings. She hunches, and hunches. Her hips can barely move an inch, but he holds his fingers stiff and still, pressing down firmly on the inside of her pubic bone. A strange feeling where the tips of his fingers rest - she's read about the 'G spot'; is that it? She hunches, straining... and suddenly is appalled to find that she lets loose an unexpected fart. It resonates loudly in the small room.

 

Instantly, the fingers withdraw, leaving her gasping, empty. The Blackjack goons guffaw and snicker between themselves, voices on their radio coms link muffled by their helmets. Spectacles is silent, but walks away from her to his desk. She glimpses his face - he is livid, red with rage, lips pressed in a thin line. He opens a drawer, reaches in and withdraws a folder, then returns to behind her, out of sight.

 

When he speaks again his voice is low with barely controlled anger. "I was considering removing your gag to allow you to offer an explanation for your libidinous condition. Perhaps some unusual medical condition? Missed medication? Regulations allow me to take such claims into consideration, and waive further indignities if it seems appropriate. However if that's your attitude, I feel no sympathy for you. You're just like all the other ungodly anarchists - a menace to civilised, law abiding, moral society. A perfect example of the anti-social tendencies resulting from the sexually obsessions of today's youth. Thank the Lord the AJP's programs will put an end to this rot! Now, as I was saying before your 'comment', we shall see what you are hiding here, that so focuses your guilty mind on areas below your waist."

 

He stops talking, and she can feel him doing something among the apparatus of the bench. A sliding sound, then suddenly a blunt, cold object is pressing against her sex. Into her, abruptly and deeply. She gasps as her hips shudder against the restraints, but with a 'snap' sound the object becomes immovable, locked in place. Then there is another sliding sound, and a the same cold pressure is applied to her anus. It seems to be slippery with lubricant of some kind, since as he pushes it firmly it pops painfully past her automatic resistance, and proceeds to slide in even further than the other. Then it too locks solid with a loud click.

 

Before she can even begin to adjust to the feeling of penetration in both her holes, the entire bench begins to move with a hiss of pneumatics. It rotates around an axis near her hips, raising her head, lowering her legs, without altering her posture. Rapidly, like some kind of production line robot, ending with a 'clunk' and judder with her now 'sitting upright' only strapped to a 'chair' that is in front and above her, instead of behind and underneath her. The penetrating rods have moved together with the rest of it, leaving her in the fearsome situation of being held up off impaling herself on them by only the straps that secure her. Her head is still held back by pads, preventing her from looking anywhere but virtually straight up. Before she can even finish taking a panicked deep breath there is another 'hissss' and with no other warning the rods within her swell up painfully, just inside her openings. Her throat locks in shock, then she tries to take that breath again, only deeper. She has to scream! Just as she begins to yell faintly around the muffling gag, she is hit inside with twin blasts of fluid. A little above body temperature, but powerful. Her vagina is instantly filled to an uncomfortable stretch, but her bowel... the liquid just keeps on pouring into her. She can feel her stomach bloating up even as she screams out the last of that lung full of air, and draws another.

 

Bloating. More! She struggles desperately, panicked, screaming behind the gag, bit it makes no difference. The water keeps flowing in, she can feel it ballooning deeper into her bowels, her abdomen swelling against the straps. Then as abruptly as it started, it halts.

 

There's a pause, with only her faint screaming, fading. She stops, panting through her nose. Ugh! So FULL!

 

Spectacles reminds her of his presence standing next to her by running his hand under her hanging arse, stroking her tensed muscles, then fingering her taut flesh stretched around the inflated probes in her openings. "Now, we wait a little while to let that work its way in. You know, some of you radical sluts seem to get a perverted thrill from this. Probably the novelty of having their filthy fuck hole rinsed out for the first time, if you ask me. Or so hungry for it that anything will do, so long as it fills them up. How about you, are you getting off on it?" His fingers move up, to stroke her clitoris. Which to her surprise, now he touches it, turns out to be hard as a rock and super sensitive. She bucks violently again, as far as she can given the straps and the rods fixed rigidly inside her. He isn't gentle at all, just roughly saws his fingertips against the bulge of her clit. In the corner of her vision she can see him leering at her, as she gives him the humiliating sight of herself gasping and squirming out of control. Oh god! The sensations are overpowering - so full, so congested, so intense, so... helpless. She can feel it building in her, the tension of an impending orgasm flooding through her nervous system, into her mind. She can't... can't stop it...

 

He does. "Ha ha. Yeah, I thought so. Loving it." He removes his hands from her sex, then cups her breasts for a moment. "Good thing God gave you sluts clits and nips, so you can't lie about that too." He rolls her nipples between his fingers, roughly. "Look at these little pebbles. Don't tell me you aren't loving it. Well, sorry babe, we've got chores to do here." He holds up a kind of large colander bowl to her view, the bends down, clipping it into place below her. He steps back out of her view, and there is that 'hiss' again. At which both the probes in her abruptly shrink and pull out of her. There's a whoosh, as water sluices out, together with the contents of her bowels. The room becomes pungent.

 

He steps back beside her, stoops down a little, reaching under her. "Well well... Bingo boys. Look what the floods washed ashore. What is this?" He holds up a small brown-streaked white capsule, pill shaped but larger. "Drugs? Weapon? Suicide pill? I guess thats for the lab guys to find out. And you, terrorist, are not going home after all. Ain't that a shame?"

 

In shock, all she can do is yell vainly through the gag. "Rooo uuut aaaaaat eeere! uuuu aaarrrarwww! arrraarrww! aoooaarffff!"

 

He isn't listening anyway. "Shhh! Now we'll just have to do that a few more times, make sure we didn't miss anything. Have you any idea how much this is screwing our schedule? Stupid slut terrorist! Now I gotta write up a report." He leaves her view, and almost immediately there's another 'hisss' and the probes again press against her openings, slipping in against her resistance. Then inflate, and then the water jets into her again. She gasps "ooommmfff!" Oh... that tension inside her, it hadn't really gone away, and now her vagina... Oh god they are going to take her away, and she's terrified, but somehow... somehow that tension in her vagina, the growing pressure inside her abdomen... there's an orgasm lurking not far off, she knows it. Her hips are bucking again. She just knows it, knows... she can't help wanting it. Ohhh.... oh so fulll... ohhh....

There's a hiss, and the probes deflate, withdraw. She groans, the fullness draining out of her. A moment later the probes drive back into her, and the cycle repeats.

 

Back at his desk he's sealing the 'evidence' up in a ziplock bag, tapping away at the keyboard, labelling the bag with a computer generated sequence number, selecting the highlights from the room video recordings of her examination and recovery of her object, then attaching all the details to her detention file. He tags the file 'provisional status, domestic terrorist, known association with violent agitators, detain and interrogate pending analysis of object recovered from anal cavity. Recommend Facility 38.' Sends the file. The bag with the 'capsule', he drops into his briefcase, humming to himself. Its his job to deliver such evidence to the right office at the end of the shift. If he doesn't forget. He'd better be careful not to forget, he jokes to himself, seeing as how the paperwork system is such a mess. If the item dropped out of the system, she'd simply vanish into the Gulag... heh, detention system. He makes a note to himself, to find a few different looking 'objects', just in case the same guards happen to be assigned next time some filthy protester pisses him off.  He'll drop by in a couple of months, pay his buddies at #38 a visit, see how this one is liking it by then. Do her a world of good, it will. Dear Lord, just look at her! Disgusting! She'd probably orgasm right there on the machine if he left it going much longer. Don't these sluts have any shame or self-control? Look at her! She's actually trying to hump the probes! Perhaps a short burst of Alt mode, before he finishes the test. Just a short taste; get her in the right frame of mind for the transport guys.

 

 

"Well Miss Attwood, how are you going? Any more little presents?" He stoops down, peering into the stainer beneath her rear. "Nope. Just a one-trick girl, eh? So thats that. We'll have you on your way to your new home in just a moment. But..." He turns off the machine and the probes retract away. Water is still draining from her, as she pants and squirms. "But first, that can be stressful, I know. So a moment to relax." He activates a control and the machine rotates back to its original position with her lying on her front, knees half bent and spread wide. He puts his hand to her sex again, slipping two fingers into her pussy and feeling her clit with his thumb. "My, you are extremely worked up, aren't you? Shameful, but I suppose you sluts can't help it. So here, this might help." Another control, and the vaginal probe hisses back into place, slides into her. But this time only an inch or two, and it doesn't inflate.

 

"We've got a few minutes till Transport come for you. Just time for Cleansing. Enjoy. Heh heh." He nods to the Blackjacks standing by the entrance door. "Clean up the mess. Take her gag out now for a little while, rest her jaw. It goes back in as she leaves."

 

The machine whines, then a jet of water bursts into her pussy. But this time, it comes in a series of short, hard pulses, close together. Pounding... Water streams from her, as it also churns around inside, the rapid pulses driving against her insides. The Blackjacks are as efficient as usual, and have the gag out of her mouth almost before Spectacles finishes his sentence.

 

"ooouurrrmmmOOOHHHHFUUUUUCK! OOOOOHHHHHH FUUUUCK! OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH SHIIIT NOOOOOoooo oooHHHHh please oh please ohhhhhh ouuhhh! ouuuhhh! uhhh! Uhhh! Oh god I can't I can't oh god oh oh ohhhh ..."

 

The sensations are simply too intense for her to think of anything else at all. The tension, the tension... it grows, fast. Yet every time her sex clamps down in anticipation, it locks the water flow within her, and almost instantly her vagina balloons past the point of comfort, into pain. She has to relax... the tension builds, she has to clamp... pain, she is forced to relax. The alternating sudden stretching expansion in her belly feels like small explosions of pleasure, and her will is demolished by the bombardment. She wants to clamp, to come. She tries, it hurts. The tension builds, unbearably, she must come. She clamps, and the pain pushes back the tension, ever so little. Desperate, she tries to simply hump herself on the probe, letting the water blasts hammer into her relaxed pussy. Ahhhh! The feeling is unbelievable, she has to come, must come... The contractions start, and instantly her pussy is painfully expanded. The orgasm hovers, just beyond reach, her belly a maddening scream of aching desire and overstimulation. Unbearable. Inescapable. Her vagina tries to clamp, the same thing happens. She has to come, she can't come...  her clit and nipples feel like they are going to explode, her brain feels like it will melt, her body... just keeps shuddering against the straps. So close, so close, she must come... Her consciousness dissolves into a churn of overwhelming conflict, pleasure and frustration.

 

 

 

After some time, gradually she becomes aware that the pulsing has stopped. The water is still flowing into her desperately wanting vagina, only steadily, gushing out past her swollen labia in a constant stream. She still can't contract, or it hurts, But the pounding has stopped, and her on-the-brink-of-orgasm has pulled back a little. She can think again. She groans, more in the grip of frustration than actual pain.

 

"Ah, you are back with us. I expect you liked that, slut? No no, no need to thank me! Now, the men are here to transport you, so enough pampering. But we have a little problem here, don't we Miss Attwood? I do believe you've worked yourself into such a licentious state, that you would probably embarrass yourself in front of these good fellows. What to do, what to do...? Oh I know... Sorry about this, just a little one this time."

He makes a quick gesture with his iGloved hand, and again she gets an electric shock kick to the stomach. Smaller, as he said, but still painful. Gasping and shuddering, she suddenly isn't hovering on the edge of orgasm any more. He makes another gesture, and the probe pops out of her abruptly, then its water flow cuts off. There's a pause as she lies there, gasping, eyes closed, her belly muscles rippling with spasms from the shock. There are some clanking noises and footsteps, but she is still grappling with her body. The muscle spasms fade quickly, leaving... the most intense, empty, aching swollen feeling of need she has ever felt in her vagina. It lies relaxed, unmoving, yet so massively tense it feels like a muscle about to cramp painfully. Not in orgasm, just in urgent need to tighten as it had been unable to, like a leg unable to stretch for far too long... Everything so intense... her clit is actually _painful_, feeling like its about to tear or explode somehow... Everything just hanging there, frozen in time, the clamp reflex slapped down so many times, its just not quite...

 

"BOO!" His voice, simultaneous with the thrust of a single rigid finger deep into her sex. The effect is like hitting the trigger plate of a mousetrap - her vagina *SNAPS* down tightly on his motionless finger. ""HaaaaAAAAHHHHYYYIIIIEEEeeee!" She screams in shock, or pleasure, or pain, she isn't sure. Its all of them at once. Relief, hurting... her muscles have a death grip on his finger, making up for their recent inaction. A cramp beyond her control, intense, it hurts, but her body wants more. Her hips thrust back, shifting his finger in her grip. "OOhhhhh... uh uh uh..." She hunches. More... more...! Orgasm seems to promise again, a growing force in her mind. She grunts, thrusting, the drag of that single finger within her tightness an ecstasy.

 

"Har har..  You are obsessed with it aren't you? We get some real slut terrorist agitators through here, but you take the cake. And shove it up your pussy, no doubt. Looks like we have one of those habitual masturbators here guys. You ever seen a snatch puffed up like this one before? Take a good look, this is the sort of sinfulness corrupting America. Probably been doing it to herself her whole no-good life, seducing and corrupting everyone she can with her perversions. Feeargh! Look at her fuck herself on a finger. No shame at all, nothing in her head except her filthy pleasure. Even if I barely touch her...."

 

He pulls his finger back till only the tip presses lightly against her entrance, and only if she strains hard to push back. She does, desperately, begging incoherently. So close... "Ohhhhh naaayaaahhh oohhhh  pleeeee pleeesssseeee uuuuuuuhhhhh..." With nothing inside her, her still clamped down vagina pains her with emptiness.

 

Removing his finger from there, he bends down between her legs to look more closely at her sex. "Hmmm, sure is puffy all right. And looks like you are hiding something from us still, eh masturbator?" Fingertips against the aching rigidness that is her sheathed clit, tracing its solid outline under the enveloping flesh. A feeling she had only imagined - another's touch, there. She shivers, its so intense, so sorely tensioned. He laughs. "Yeah, that figures, you've a big one here. Big, but shy, likes to stay hidden under its hood. Lets see, can it come out to play? You pop it out when you do yourself, huh?"

 

There's a sudden harsh tugging at the apex of her vulva, a hurtful pinching, a burst of weird, unfamiliar sensations, like rolling, slipping squeeze. Then... she doesn't understand what she's feeling. Her clit suddenly doesn't feel so painfully tight, but instead there's a kind of intense coolness, right at the centre of her pleasure zone, as if it was... exposed. As well, there's a new kind of stretched feeling in the skin around it, as if things have been rearranged somehow. It all still throbs, demanding pulses with every heartbeat. What...? She shudders and twists helplessly, confused into silence, wanting to look there, but unable to.

 

"Ha ha, yeah, like I thought. A real big one. Supposed to be they grow that way from years of masturbation. You thought you'd keep it hidden, but not from the Department of Homeland Security. There it is, sticking out for all to see. Little Miss Masturbator Mary Attwood."

 

A massive explosion of painfully, too-intense sensation driven into her innermost core impacts with her mind, and she shrieks. "Aaiiiieeeee! Arrrghhhhh! Buuuuu.... Nnnnnooooooo! Ohhhhhhnnnooooo!...."

Then it stops just as suddenly, leaving her clitoris ringing with sensory afterimage.

"Sensitive, isn't it? Ha ha. Thats why women so often go astray, so they say. Not enough willpower to stop, not enough smarts to know its bad for them. Well, the American Jesus Party knows what to do about that. About time too. Get her out of here."

 

There's a pause, then the feel of straps being undone. She's lifted up by several hands, her limbs still limp from shock. As soon as she can see around, it turns out there are now four DHS Blackjacks, with a new pair manhandling her into... a sort of metal clothes rack on wheels. There's a square base with castors at the corners, and a tall rectangular frame standing up from the centre of the base. Various rubberised hooks and rings around the frame. They lift her upright, and set her down in the frame standing, with padded bars curving under her armpits. With her wrists still locked to the belt in the small of her back, there's nothing she can do about that. Her ankles are grasped, and pulled outwards to the frame, then fitted with padded anklets that lock to rings on the frame. Then the same is done to her knees, pulling her thighs widely apart. Two more wide padded straps are wrapped around the tops of her thighs, just below her sex. They are pulled fairly tight on her thighs, locked, then  rings on their outsides are strung and tensioned via solid cords to frame rings at about stomach level. The result is that these take much of her weight, pulling her feet almost free of the base, and greatly increasing the opening between her thighs just below her crotch. The stretch also has the effect of pulling her labia open, so the feel of cold air reaches further into her sex. There's still that weird feeling around her clit, and she is too distracted by events to look down. A little afraid to look too, in the back of her mind. What have they done to her?

 

As this is going on Spectacles is back at his computer, typing. He gestures with the iglove, and a printer whines out a few pages. One of the Blackjacks securing her spins the stand around on the spot for a few turns, as if seeing if she'll topple over. He stops the spin, then unexpectedly gives her a sharp gloved slap across her breast. As she opens her mouth in shock, the other Blackjack pops something rubbery into it, then rapidly pumps the part that projects outside her lips. The part inside her mouth expands, widening her jaws, till there is no chance of her expelling it. Once again she is silenced.

 

Spectacles hands the other guard the papers. A door in the opposite wall of the room opens, and the two new Blackjacks wheel her out. One holds the frame on his side, and the papers, the other walks a bit behind and has one hand on the frame, the other moving around on her arse, pushing there more than he needs to. The castor wheels oscillate from side to side as they roll, giving the ride a juddering vibration. Behind them the door hisses shut as they judder her down another long passageway of bare concrete walls, floor and ceiling.

 

No words are spoken. She looks at the face behind the thick faceshield to one side. He looks straight ahead, not acknowledging her glance. The trolley shudders over a rough patch, and vibrations tickle her intensely sensitive sex. Those... odd... feelings. She looks down her front, to her sex. With her pelvis pushed forward by the Blackjack's hand pressed against her rear, and her thighs splayed so wide, her sex is very much visible. She gasps, a small muffled squeak. Thinks 'Ahhh! Oh what! What has...? what did he...? Oh! Oh!....'

 

Her sex looks radically different from how she's always seen it before. There's something... sticking out from her. At the top of her slit, a tapered reddened 'finger' projects out, where always before there was just her cleft, or when excited, the bump of her clitoral stiffness inside its covering. She stares, horrified. The trolley's shaking kind of blurs her vision for fine detail intermittently. But there it is... She thinks wonderingly that somehow he has made her clit come out from inside her. But there's no blood... How...?  It must be as long and thick as the end joint on her ring finger. And now she looks closer, she can see what must be the... the 'hood'? Stretched around the top of the little projection's base. She can feel that... so thats what it... And the... her clit, she can feel cool air against it. A totally new feeling. That crash of sensations, he must have pinched it or something. Oh god, its so blatant!

 

Just then another pair of Blackjacks enter this passage from another just ahead of them. They are wheeling another trolley just like hers, with a terrified looking young naked Asian woman fastened the same as her - armpits resting on the padded cups, arms behind her back with wrists locked to a waistband, thighs and ankles buckled to the side frames. Like hers, the trolley is balky to steer, and after the turn the Blackjacks are pushing the girl along backwards. For an initial instant the eyes in her flushed face meet Mary's, but then glance downwards. With an inflated gag distorting the girl's mouth its hard to tell her expression, and Mary's first thought is that the girl feels too ashamed of her nudity to meet Mary's gaze. Till she realises with a shock that the girl is actually staring at Mary's crotch.  At her... that... Mary's own gaze lowers, and in confusion she finds herself looking at the other girl's sex. Where her attention is held, trying to comprehend what she sees.  The girl has shapely, full hips below a narrow waist, and her inner thighs are pulled wide apart by the straps to the frame. Between her thighs, the lips of her sex are entirely hairless. They are also spread strainingly tight around a shockingly thick polished chrome shaft that projects downwards from her body about a foot. From its base, two tight thin cords extend up to clips in front of the girl's waist strap. Mary is just noticing that a black ridged section of the shaft near its exposed middle seems to be varying in length, when the guards spin the girl around so her rear faces Mary. Mary's trolley has nearly caught up with the other, but that shaft is still visible between the girl's rounded buttocks. Now Mary can see that the black part is a concertina, which is pistoning the upper part of the shaft in and out of the girl's vagina. At the back there is one thin rigid strut that emerges from the girl's anus, and down to the base of the object in her vagina. A short cross piece presses against the outside of the girl's anus, and from that cross piece another tight cord extends up between her arse cheeks to her waist strap.

 

Mary next realises in one rush of comprehension that the girl's body is sheened with sweat, and contorting in its bonds with a slow undulating pelvic thrusting. She can hear the girl moaning desperately through the muffling gag, and see her buttocks and thighs tensing and relaxing. Her hands fastened in the small of her back alternately stretch open and close in tight fists.

 

Having quite caught up with the other group, one of Mary's Blackjacks speaks to the others. "Hey, looks like you guys bagged yourselves some lezo! One of the new retrainers too! Cool!"

A Blackjack in front half turns, while still trundling the Asian girl along. "Yep! Would you believe that pair of deviants were holding hands in the pens? Checked em out on the demo tapes, and sure nuf. Corrupters, kissing right in front of kids and all. She got passed over to DHM, and the DHM eval officer threw a fit, and then another one when she found out China-doll here has a shaved puss. Permanently, she said. Imagine that! No hair, ever!" They swing her round again, to display her shaved 'puss' to Mary's Blackjacks. This time the girl's eyes are shut tight, her head thrown back as her hips thrust rapidly, matching her fast paced nasal grunting. "She ran a Morrelson Libido Restraint Test, and lezzie fails badly. Can't help herself at all, total slut, woulda come every single time if it was possible, you know?. Officer not happy at all, puts her down for immediate orgasm lock *plus* jumbo size gender retraining. Looks kinda cool huh? She's a slow learner too; keeps trying to get it on. Gonna do it again in a moment, by the looks. Watch."

 

They stop rolling her trolley, and the four Blackjacks all watch. The two wheeling Mary are standing right next to her, and carry on their own conversation in lowered tones she can barely hear. Another man in the severely plain black DHM officer uniform has just stepped out of a side door back down the passage a way, and he too stops and watches. Mary is left hanging in her trolley frame behind them, but can still see the Asian girl. It looks like they are right. Now she is tossing her head back and forth, her long jet black hair flying, where it isn't plastered to the sweat on her neck and shoulders. Her hips jerk in short bursts, then lock for long moments thrust as far forward as she can in the constraints. The cylinder in her vagina pistons with the same slow deliberate stroke, about 4 inches travel, in and out cycling about once per four seconds, pulling and pushing the flesh stretched so tightly around it's entry point. Her sex and the shaft are shiny with her secretions. A note of desperate urgency is clear in her shuddered breaths despite the gag.

 

"Looks like she'd like a bit more speed there!"

"Yeah, she would. Thats the point, its slow enough she could control herself if she wanted, the sci-boys say. Now she's gonna learn why self control is a good thing. Right about... "

 

Just then she has been straining her hips forward, locked, as her face screws up intensely, head thrown far back. Her breath catches... and then she jerks forward as if trying to curl up, managing a loud "NNNNNNNNNnnnaaaaannnnnnn!" even through her nose. Her body jerks several times more, spastically, then she falls limp, supported by the armpit loops. Her head rolls forward, and her shoulders shake in what look like sobs. The piston in her vagina keeps right on going.

 

"Wow, that hurts, huh?"

"Nah, its supposed to just kinda numb the pussy nerves for a minute or two. Not just a shock, but some kinda special nerve-jamming pulses. Not fun, but then why should it be? No permanent damage at all. If anything, it rests the nerves a while, then they wake up working even better. My sister knows a chick who's husband is a DHM AJP bigwig, and he makes her wear an org-lock unit while he's away on trips. She said its amazing, when he takes it off her she'd pop if a fly landed on her puss. Like that sensitive!"

The other of the two new Blackjacks chimes in. "Course, ching chong lez here don't get to pop no matter how many flies land on it, hur hur hur!"

The other drops his voice even further, to virtually a whisper, with a faint head tilt back towards the DHM officer down the passage.

"They gonna sell those things sometime? My Stella... well, you know."

"Can't just yet, some stupid laws. Gonna change that after the next elections, its all sorted I hear."

"About time too. I heard... when the AJP wins majority this year, they're gonna go the whole way."

"You mean.. that policy...? Wow."

"Yeah, that one. They got the mandate already, just gotta dot the t's and cross the i's, you know what I mean? Deal with those arsehole civil liberties holdouts and feminist gays, do a bit more opinion leading."

"So those things really work?"

"Whaddya mean 'do they work'? You've seen where these crims are going, right? You think thats 'not working'? Now they got them all ironed out, and been stockpiling consumer grade models for months already. Got nearly half a million girls signed up on that America the Pure campaign, just waiting for the implants to pass health regs."

"When are they gonna go mandatory?"

"Legal guardian and adult signup opens right after the elections. Then six months later for full, I guess."

"Your daughters are 16 and 17, right Jake? You gonna sign em up?"

"Oh Shit yeah! Soon as. I already caught Jane twice, and Alice... she's a sneaky one, but if anything she's worse than Jane. Be a real worry off my mind when she's Logged and Pure. Since mum died, and I'm not home much, you know."

"You gonna be real strict with them, huh?" No exceptions?"

"None. Well... maybe if they are real good with their schoolwork. I'll have the remote, but I'm a firm believer in vigilant parental supervision, if you know what I mean."

"Heh. Yeah. I can imagine, Jake. Are those commercial ones gonna be like the PUSSY units? All the features?"

"Yeah, they really miniaturised them good. Even better than the PUSSYs, you'd never even know they were fitted. Not even the chick can tell they are there. Unless they are being impure, of course! Or you got one of them full-feature remotes, ha ha ha!"

"You can get one of those?"

"Oh yeah, I got connections. I can get one. Or two..."

"Can you now. Thats... interesting. How much for friends?"

"Mmmmm... you were saying about Stella? Fine looking woman. Real shame she can't have kids. I expect she'd love to have a daughter. She gets on fine with Jane and Alice when y'all visit. You ever thought about that?"

"Uh... man, your daughters are... pretty hot. I... uh, sure, a man can't help thinkin, you know?"

"Well Brad, your wife is pretty hot too. A man can't help thinkin, you know? But thinkin _creatively_, now thats the trick."

"Creatively?"

"Oh like I dunno, we take the ladies hiking up to the cabin for a week, and it snows, and everyone's just sitting around in that one room. You get the idea?"

"Snow huh?"

"Snow. Lookout. He's coming over."

 

Mary has been standing still, only peripherally listening in confusion while staring in shock at the girl. She doesn't understand most of what they say, but she gets parts of it. Why are goons like these so happy about the AJP program? From what she's heard over recent weeks she'd understood it, it sounded reasonable, but somehow these crude thugs make it sound evil. As evil as... the way she and the Asian girl are being treated. How can this be? Some kind of horrible mistake...

 

She notices that the Asian girl is coming round- she has taken her weight on her feet again, and lifted her head. Takes a long, shaky breath, and meets Mary's eyes for long moments this time. A sad helpless trapped look. Mary can see the girl's nipples are erect. The girl's eyes flutter closed, and her hips give a small shudder. The piston just keeps on sliding in and out of her sex, and somehow Mary can't tear her eyes away from the sight.

 

A hand clasps Mary's breast from behind, shocking her. She turns her head and finds the DHM officer who had appeared before has moved up to her. One hand toys with her breast, cupping the flesh then teasing her hard nipple between two fingers. He steps to beside her, and looks down at her sex, casually. Snorts derisively, as he comes further around and leans forward to closer inspect her clitoris, still protruding so oddly. There is an AJP crucifix pinned on his round collar. A gold one this time. She's never seen a gold one before, only silver. He straightens again, looking her up and down, expressionless. His voice is cold and authoritative.

 

"I believe you men have tasks assigned. Perhaps you should carry on, before your tales further confuse these two sinners. On the off chance that they can pay attention despite the libidinous fixations of their minds. This one appears to like what she sees here... she is on her way to a detention centre? What is her charge?"

 

"Sir! Possession of terrorist materials, association with agitators, destruction of state property! Sir!"

 

"Well well well, quite a celebrity. She is highly aroused by your other charge, it seems... did someone get carried away with her terrorist crimes, and forget to investigate her potential sexual amorality? Hand me her papers."

 

"Sir!" A guard hands him the sheets. He flips through them rapidly, pausing here and there to read. Them he taps the paper with a finger a few times, thinking. Pulls out a pen, and resting the papers on her upper chest, makes some additions. She can't see what. He hands the papers back to the guard. "Carry on." Strolls off.

 

The Blackjack guards silently resume wheeling the trolleys with their captive girls. A few moments later, one sighs. "Phew. That could have been bad. I didn't realise it was him. Did you?"

"No."

"I was a bit distracted too. Oh well, no harm done hopefully. What did he change?"

The guard with the papers lets go of her trolley, and the other takes over the pushing. Leafing through them the first guard bursts into chuckles. He doesn't say anything, just shows the papers to the others as they walk, pointing something out with his finger. They all seem to find it very funny.

 

At this point they round a corner and emerge into a large underground truck loading dock. There are several hard-wall white semitrailers with DHS seals painted prominently on the sides. One is backed up to the dock, with its rear doors open. The girls are wheeled towards it, and as they approach can see the white, brightly lit interior. Down each side there is a row of naked women, standing fastened in frames just like theirs. The floor has slot rails for each row, and the guards manoeuvre their trolleys till the wheels slip into the ends of these rails. Then they slide them along till the sides of the trolley base mate with a click against the trolleys already in place. Mary keeps her eyes downcast, but can see the Asian girl is directly opposite her, facing her, just feet away. The truck is nearly full, with only a handful more spaces free once Mary and the Asian girl are locked in place.

All the girls are facing inwards, backs to the walls. An open isle down the centre allows the guards to walk up and down, inspecting the prisoners. Which they do, chatting about the women, the shitty pay, when their shift ends, and so on. Eventually they leave, and the truck is left with two rows of naked, gagged women stuck on racks. Each rack has a clear plastic pouch on the left side, just below the armpit supports. The guards make a few annotations on their paperwork for the each girl, then slip the sheets into these pouches.

 

The moment Mary realised she is being wheeled in among these other prisoners, she found herself totally overcome with embarrassment at the state of her sex, and for many minutes can't bring herself to look up from the floor. The trouble with looking down though, is that she can't help seeing the state of her clitoris and nipples. Still rigidly proclaiming to all that she is sexually aroused... despite all this. And her clitoris... sticking out like she's never seen it before. She's finally understood what happened, and it shames her intensely. All these years, and she never knew that the shaft was covered by a hood of skin that could be pulled back, releasing the shaft to stand out like this. It feels so different! Under that hood it always felt tightly, almost painfully constrained when excited. Now... it has a throbbing, stretched feeling, that aches... differently. As if it wants to be touched, to feel... she doesn't know what.

 

But why is it erect now? She should be terrified, enraged... Instead almost the only thing she feels are the demands of her sex... it *demands*, and she cannot do anything. She wants to, and is deeply ashamed for wanting. Deeply humiliated at being seen like this by all these other people. She wants so badly to come... to masturbate, to be masturbated, or fucked, or anything, just to come. She knows its obvious to anyone who looks that she is aroused. They must think she... she is aroused by this, by seeing them, by... what is happening. What will happen... She has a good idea that as a result of her so-clever ploy of depriving herself for weeks, topped off by the near-orgasm teasing she was just subjected to, her body is just going to keep wanting. And there's nothing she can do about it. It will stay like that, so obvious, and everyone who sees it will think she... she *likes* this.

 

Worse, somehow being on display among all these other naked, bound girls seems to feed her excitement. She doesn't understand that, but can tell it is so. She wants to look at them... She dares not... That woman with the shaft thing in her vagina... her own treatment back there... keeping them naked and bound so vulnerably... dark thoughts of what this implies for their future, for her future. It enrages her, but rage is not the only feeling making her heart pound so fast. Will they do that to her too? She can imagine what it will feel like, so huge, thrusting... her sex aches at the thought. The Asian girl is directly across from her. She knows if she looks up, she won't be able to avoid staring at that thick shiny thing in the naked sex. She wants to look, she fears to look...

 

Eventually, it is a noise that makes her look around. All the girls are gagged in the same way - inflatable gags with a short stubby pump/valve affair protruding between their stretched lips. Yet the truck is full of soft noises - breathing, sighs and gasps, now and then a futile attempt at conversation. Then one more rapid pattern emerges from the background. A regular huffing gasp, with overtones of desperation, pleading. Its off to her left, and as the tempo seems to be rising rapidly, she instinctively glances that way. Finds her eyes held, in heart-pounding horrified fascination. Midway down the opposite row of naked bound women, there is one who isn't quite as naked as the others. She is a tall, stunningly formed blond, her clear flawless skin flushed pink over her face, and down her neck to her chest. She is young, early twenties, her shapely curves rippling as well defined muscles tense and strain under the skin with her exertions. Like the rest she is naked, strapped in the frame in the same manner, the blond curls at her sex declaring no bleach was involved in the woman's long blond hair, now whipping around as she tosses her head rapidly. There is some covering on her body though. Several small round white pads are stuck to her skin in various places, with thin wires trailing from them to a boxy device mounted to a bracket on the frame near her right shoulder. The pads... there are two on each ample breast, close by either side of the woman's erect nipples. Another tight grouping of four in an arc around the top of her sex, where patches of her pubic hair appear to have been casually shaved. Two more on her inner thighs, in the narrow space between the top of the thigh straps and her sex. A sex that is swollen and slickly shiny with dampness, and through which a hard clitoris peeps near the top.

 

Still staring, Mary gradually takes in other details. There are other wires hanging from the box. Three appear to go around behind the desperately struggling woman, to what she can't see. Somewhere below the woman's waistline.

One more wire hangs down her front, and loops up between her legs, also to somehere out of sight to Mary's angled view. Till with one twisting thrust of her hips, the woman swings them towards Mary, revealing that the wire disappears into her vagina. The muffled gasping sounds from the woman are reaching a crescendo of desperation; her body hunching in violent coital thrusts as if making desperate love to some unseen partner.

Mary feels as if her eyes are chained to the sight. She cannot look away. Her own body seems to feel an erotic connection with the woman, as her sex clenches in need, and hips push forward in urgent sympathy. She doesn't understand, and yet she does. The woman is going to come, violently and massively, driven to it by the wires, but driven not quite hard enough to make it come easily, just to make it inevitable. Eventually, though in the meantime her frantic desperation is written loudly in her gasps and contortions. Mary knows she cannot look away, knows she will watch the woman come.

 

Now she is looking, she also sees that all the other prisoners are also entrapped by the sight. Every one of them is watching, and the Germanic looking woman, when she opens her eyes now and then, clearly sees that. Whether her vivid blush is due to humiliation, or her own excitement, isn't clear. While Mary is staring, eyeing the woman's attachments and the frame, she notices that the papers visible in their clear pouch on the frame have a prominent blue six-pointed star either stamped or stuck on the outside. Of the other papers she can see, none do. However, in briefly glancing around to try and see, she notices something else that makes her shiver. All the restraint frames have the same bracket as the blond German-looking girl's electrical device is fixed to. She doesn't even want to think about that. Doesn't want to... but the thought won't go away. Her vagina clenches suddenly, hard, as an image of herself wired and tormented like that tramps through her mind. Staring at the woman's continued shuddering doesn't help clear the thought either.

 

Nor does the sight of her finally coming. Its very obvious when she does. Her head throws back, her whole face clamps down in a grimace of orgasmic oblivion, the muscles of her neck standing out as she wails a long, high scream through her gag. The blush turns a near crimson shade, extending down past her breasts as her whole body locks in straining rigour, hips thrust out so the thigh straps pull deeply into her flesh. Its a long one. The woman's wail trails out, lungs empty, then she takes another deep fill and continues.... "nyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! uuuuuhhh...NNYYYYYYyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! uhhhhHHh! NNNNNNNNNNNyyyyyaaahhhhhhh! uhhhh! "Nnnnnnn......." Like a stuck record, she stands there, bound and thrust, rigid, making the same wailing cry repeatedly. Four times... five... a trace of a sob as she ends her exhale, then another shaky intake, and a sixth wail.... Mary can tell the orgasm is not trailing off as one would expect, but just keeping on going. Something to do with the pads, electrical stimulation... Nine, ten times... twelve... or was it thirteen? She loses count. Now there is more of a sobbing incredulity to the woman's cries; a note of exhaustion. She is quieter now, but still straining her hips out in long motionless thrusts, with small, short flicks back every few moans. It seems to go on for minutes. All other sounds inside the truck have ceased, and in the brief glances Mary makes around at the other girls, all are transfixed, watching with various mixes of horror, disbelief and arousal on their faces. Even the Asian girl, who seems to be getting distracted with her own device again, is watching with a heavy lidded, dazed expression, head twisted sideways and craned forward to see the other girl in her own row.

 

Finally, the woman is in the middle of another drawn-out moan of orgasm when she suddenly cuts off with a gasp, and a convulsive jerk of her whole body. As if someone or something had slapped, or stung her. It sounds like "nnnnnyyyyyaaaaaaaaaOUNMF!" and leaves the woman shivering and breathing in shaky rapid shallow gusts. She drops her weight onto the armpit brackets, and hangs there limply, sobbing, her head fallen forward. Several minutes pass, the truck still silent, everyone still staring at her. Eventually, she takes a long, deep breath then exhales rapidly, and shakes herself. Takes her weight on her feet again, and looks up. Her blush is fading, but now there is intelligence in her eyes. The gag distorts her mouth, but as she looks up and glances around at the other women, there is a mix of shame, defiance, and satisfaction in her eyes. She doesn't like what was done to her, or that they watched, but damned if she will cower. And besides, that was amazing! She gives her hair a shake, unsticking the strands plastered to her damp neck, flicking it to fall straight down her back. Looking a the others, she shrugs. Sighs. Mumbles something through the gag, but Mary can't make it out. She shakes her head again, a brief gesture of annoyance with the gag. Then she boldly glances at each girl around her in turn, summing them up. There are girls tearful, girls afraid, angry girls, girls staring stony-faced, girls in states of confusion and panic. Some of them are also girls perhaps a little turned on. Eventually, leaning forward and looking to her left, she spots the Asian girl, and sees the device still pistoning between her legs. Eyebrows raised, she looks around again. No other 'devices', just hers and the Asian girl's. Her glance again comes to Mary, this time first looking Mary in the eyes, then unselfconsciously shifting down Mary's body. Lingering long on her erect nipples, then the sight of Mary's protruding clit. The blonde's eyes return to Mary's and then she gives a dismissive 'hmpf!' shrug and flick of her head, once again staring pointedly at Mary's crotch. She might as well have spoken "You liked watching that huh? Pervert!"

 

Mary is just shaking her head in dismayed denial, trying her hardest to express with her eyes that it isn't true, when the blond is suddenly distracted. First there is a crisp 'Beep!', that must have come from the wired box on the blonde's carrier frame. With a look of dismay, she turns to look at the box, apparently examining a display of some sort on its top that Mary can't see. She utters a plaintive "Ooo nnnnnnn aaaannnnn!" through the gag, then is just turning back to the others when a shiver runs through her body. She closes her eyes, tightly, and stands motionless for a long moment. Another shudder, and a resigned sigh. A short grunt, and a shudder mainly centred on her hips. She tosses her head, in a 'no no no' gesture, then takes a long, shaky deep intake of air as her head tilts back, eyes closed.

 

At that point, another group of Blackjacks arrive, wheeling four more naked girls in frames. Mary looks down again, but watches from the corner of her eye as the new frames are slotted into the rails and slid into place. Now there are no empty slots. These guards seem in a hurry, and none enter the container. They just swing the doors closed, and she can hear the locks being engaged. A fan in a grille at the other end starts up, and then the truck shudders as the big truck engine turns over, and begins a steady throbbing vibration.

 

Nothing more happens for a few minutes, though they can hear faint noises outside. The blond woman is starting to make more noise again now, and her gasps plus the beat of the engine ensure its impossible to hear much from outside. Mary has dared a few more looks around, realises there is something else very odd about this situation besides the nakedness, straps and sexual torment devices. She has realised that this is no random group of women picked off the street. Every single one seems to be somewhere between eighteen and thirty, and every single one is at least pretty. Some, like the Asian and the Germanic blond, are stunning. She is thinking about this when the engine revs up, and with a jerk the truck is in motion.

 

   ----

 

Without any clock, or even idea what time of day it is, Mary can't tell how long the journey takes. She'd begun with an empty bladder at her 'interview', and during the later stages of the journey the girls one by one find themselves unable to hold it any longer, and have no alternative but to pee standing up, naked before the others. She too eventually has to do this, and the water doesn't all fall clear - some runs down her legs. The interior of the truck smells like a farmyard, but at least there seem to be drain holes in the floor. Late on into the trip one girl is unable to hold her bowels, and finishes with a pile of shit sitting between her spread feet. The smells take on a new dimension.

 

Some roads are smooth, and its hardly noticeable that the truck is rolling along. At those times she (and the other girls) deal with the boredom by looking at each other, trying to communicate in shrugs and grunts. Nothing much is achieved but a sense of shared hardship, and that doesn't help her much since a good few of the bound women seem to be offended by the persistently aroused state of her organs. She supposes she can't blame them, since they must think she is excited by seeing them. Or at least by the continuing spectacle of the repeatedly orgasming blond woman, and the repeatedly NOT-orgasming Asian girl. Both are regularly worked up to threshing, panting frenzies of excitement, but while the blond is then drawn by her electrical device through an excruciatingly long orgasm each time, the Asian girl clearly suffers repeats of the same arousal abortment just before she can peak. Both spend about equal times sobbing in despair after each episode completes, and struggle equally in resistance as each new cycle initiates, and their bodies begin to respond.

 

For some portions of the journey the road is quite rough, and as the truck lurches they are jerked around by the frames. Her armpits are feeling quite bruised by slamming against the hoops, despite the soft padding. For these intervals each girl tends to be preoccupied with trying to minimise the discomfort, and some with motion sickness. Fortunately no one throws up and chokes on their gag.

 

She thinks perhaps it might have been three or four hours, before the truck rolls to a stop, then backs up to something with a grating 'beeep...beeep...beeep..' as if someone would fail to notice a semitrailer backing up over them. There's a final lurch, the engine shuts down, and then a brief moment of silence. Thumps at the doors, then they swing open. Another bare concrete space. Two Blackjacks, both rather overweight, stand outside with hoses. Their uniforms are a variant in some slick looking black plastic that Mary has never seen before. Just at this moment the blond is oblivious in the middle of another of her long drawn out orgasms, and they pause, staring at her. Mary can't hear what they are saying to each other, as their face shields are down and they seem to be using their helmet radios. But she can see their shoulders shake with laughter after one of them says something. They point their hoses, and let loose with tight hard jets - one zeroed in on the blond woman's breasts, the other her pussy. The effect is dramatic, and Mary is very glad it wasn't her. The woman shrieks, and threshes wildly, eyes flying open in shock. The water jets play on her sex, her breasts despite her most violent struggles, since she can't really move very far. Mary can't tell if the blonde's forced orgasm continues or not - the woman's wild gyrations and cries are unreadable.

 

Then suddenly the men get tired of their joke, and resume their jobs - to hose out the truck interior and the women. They switch from the tight jets, to wider sprays and work down the walls, floor, and line of women from the waist down. The shit and piss washes away, and the smells abate. The water is warm, smells of disinfectant, and together with the mild air temperature it isn't unpleasant. Mary is hosed down efficiently just like the others, and relieved to be free of her own pee. But the next stage isn't so promising.

 

Hoses off, the two men walk into the central isle of the truck, and pull the hoses after them down to the front of the container. The hoses have pistol grip-like handles, and now she gets a close look as the men walk past her, she doesn't like the look of those nozzles. They are very... phallic. Sure enough, when they come to the end girls they squat down and efficiently, as if they have done this hundreds of times before, press the ends of the nozzles to the girls' slits and pressing the triggers. Water gushes out, and although the girls gasp and try to pull away, the guards matter of factly thrust the nozzles deep into their vaginas, then work them around in a circular motion for several seconds as water spurts from the girl's sexes. One girl seems to briefly clamp down, for the water running out of her stops for a moment. Her stomach visibly bulges for an instant, as she gasps, then the gushing resumes with an extra surge. Still acting as if choreographed, the guards simultaneously pull their sprays out of the girls, then move them slightly back. They repeat the same action, this time pressing the nozzle tips against the girl's anuses, pressing the trigger, then thrusting the phallic metal sprayers into the girl's bodies. This time there's hardly any water lost for several moments, as the girls have clearly gripped the nozzles. Their stomachs swell... and swell. For perhaps five seconds the guards are motionless, then they pull the nozzles from the girls. Who apparently are still in shock, still clenching their rear openings.

The guards simply ignore them, and shift to the next two girls in the line. Here they repeat the process - several seconds of thrusting and twisting the jetting nozzles in two vaginas, then several more seconds of pumping water into arseholes automatically clamped tight. They shift again, and work down the line. No one is saying anything, not the guards, and apart from muffled shrieks of shock and outrage as each is efficiently flushed and filled, not the gagged girls.

 

The blond girl is dealt with exactly the same as the others, though the guard first pulls an object out of her vagina by its wire. When he lets it drop Mary can see that its a large pear-shaped thing, black with some shiny metallic spots around its surface. As soon as he finishes her vaginal flush, he shoves the thing back into her. It seems to be a fairly tight fit at her opening, but then suddenly pops up inside. The other guard pauses, then does his girl's arse-fill in sync with his partner. Mary is in shock, but can't help watching helplessly. They are going to do that to her... It seems the other girls feel the same way - all staring in frozen fascination at the men working their way down the line. The girls they have already done, are also shocked... plus, looking extremely uncomfortable. None of them has released the water in their bowels yet, though it can't be easy to hold it.

 

Then too suddenly the guards reach her and the Asian girl. The thought had crossed her mind that with the... thing in the girl's sex, and rear, they wouldn't be able to 'do' her. But no. They break their routine as they both turn to the Asian girl, and one pulls they girl's papers from the frame pouch. They read them, discussing something in a low mutter over their helmet radios. Then replace the papers. One guard goes behind the girl, and apparently unclips the cord from her waist belt. The other does the two in front. Then they stoop down and together grip the device still pistoning mechanically inside her sex. They pull, against which the only resistance seems to come from the strut entering her anus. That gradually pulls out, revealing that there is a fat cylindrical object buried inside her. It emerges slowly, curved like a cross between a banana and large salami. The girl moans, her hips shaking. Mary hears a radio-sounding laugh and indistinct comment as one hangs the contraption up on the frame. Something like "don't worry, ... lover back." They do the Asian girl together, one working a nozzle in her vagina, the other jetting water into her backside. In her case, the water in her rear leaks a bit, and so he leaves the nozzle in her for longer than with the others. He gives her a sharp slap on her arse, and the leaking stops.

 

Then they both stand up and turn to Mary. A pause. They stare at her body for a moment, then glance back at each other. Now, this close, she realises that their voices are so faint because their helmets are completely sealed, with some kind of air-filtering system built in. However now she can make out their words, but disconcertingly with their dark faceplates and the radio sounding from them both, she can't tell which is speaking.

"Shit, look at this one. Is she implanted already?"

"I don't think so. Check it."

One of them pulls the papers from her frame's pouch and flicks through them. There's a surprised whistle.

"Wheet! Look at this, a real case. Terrorist, and then here, Randsmeir himself... look at that... his signature!"

They study the papers a moment more, as if in awe, then turn to her again. Through the dark faceplates she can tell they are looking her up and down... and down again, focussing on her sex. They stare for long moments. She is acutely conscious of the still persisting, steadily throbbing rigidity of her clitoris. With every heartbeat, it throbs, so intensely. She tries to hold very still, like a mouse. Unfortunately her vagina chooses that moment to contact strongly, and her hips quiver, thrusting slightly before she can suppress the movement.

"Yeah, well. Apparently so. No implant yet, but well overdue by the looks."

"You think its safe to do this? She might..."

"Perhaps. Bit risky. But still, there's nothing here about any work done yet. I'd say she's clear still, and no one would know. If you know, in the course of our duties... Kinda tempting to stick one up Ra.."

"RADIO! Up the RADIO, you dimwit. Careful what you say. You wanna go for a tour of the male camps?"

"Umm... oh. Right. Of course, we must follow the directives fully, to the best of our abilities! Thats what I meant... we'll stick one up randy here, just the routine. Conscientiously and in the service of our nation!"

"Of course. She is a special case, and we must be extra diligent!"

"OK. Do the last four first."

 

They turn away from her, and very quickly repeat the flush and fill routine on the last four girls.

Then on of them faces down the truck isle, touching the side of his helmet. An amplified voice booms out harshly.

"LISTEN UP! You will all stand eyes-front and hold your contents until permitted to release. Any disobedience will be dealt with severely!" The other one pulls a stun stick from his belt and displays it back and forth like an airline hostess displaying a life jacket. He presses a button and a nasty sounding electric arc frizzes between electrodes at the tip. The voice blares again "Thank you, ladies, for flying DHS Airways. Debarkment will be delayed a few minutes." The amplified voice cuts off, but Mary can hear radio-toned laughter. They walk the few paces back to her, hoses still in hand. Pointed at her as if they were holding guns and she was about to attack them. The image of the blond girl shuddering under the jets is strong in her mind.

 

Standing in front of her one of them gestures at her sex with the nozzle.

"Not frightened at all, is she?"

"Nope. Positively perky."

"So, you first."

"Why no, _you_ first."

"No no no, I won't hear of it. Please do."

"Oh, no really, be my guest. Don't let me stop you."

"But of course my friend, I'd rather see you ... oh fuck it. On the count of three. One, two.."

They both bend down, and aim their nozzles directly at her sex from a few inches away.

"Three!"

 

The blast of sensation is so intense she tries to double over. Unsuccessfully of course. It turns out the water got quite a bit hotter since the group hose-down, and both jets are pounding directly on her rigid clit. She desperately tries to pull herself away from the jets, but since she can really only move her hips forward and back, not side to side or up and down, and the jets are horizontal from the front, all she does is change the angle of impact on her sensitive bud. She has the vague idea they are still chattering to each other, but she can't tell for sure over her own yelling into her gag. Its agony, its unbelievable, its beautiful, its overpowering, its making her body feel things she never imagined. She wants it to stop, to continue... A tightness builds fast in her belly, like a tornado bearing down on a chicken coop. Something's going to give, and it will be spectacular... it will... so intense... her hips plunge back and forth, futilely. Building....

 

It stops.

"Hmmm. Still perky. You don't suppose she likes this?"

"Wouldn't be surprised." A gloved finger probes at her vagina, and slides in slickly. It pulls out, and the man holds his middle glove-finger up in front of her, inches from her face. His thumb tip slides circles in her juice.

"Aaaaand... no surprise. Slick as a soaped up slug."

"Glad I'm not trying to stand up in there."

"Should be a warning sign, 'danger, slippery pussy'."

"Needs a good spring cleaning, I'd say."

"Well, we got the tools! Watch her, let me know..."

"K"

 

One stands up, and faces her, eye to dark plastic curve.

She's looking into that blankness, when something long, thick and hard is thrust suddenly into her pussy. Its warmer than body temperature. She looks down, and sees the kneeling one working the hose nozzle in her sex. Pulling it out, and thrusting in again. He builds up quite a rhythm, and of course her treacherous body has to match it thrust for push. Feelings... that tension; how can rape feel so satisfying, she wonders. He switches to holding it deep within her, and stiring it round and round as if her insides are a cake mix he's getting all the lumps out of. 'OOOOOoooooooo stiring.... stir me up.... oooooooooo' She finds herself thrusting her sex onto that rod, the sensation filling her mind to exclusion of all else. Stirring... inside... ohhhh.... mmmmmm... throbbing tension building, close, close...

 

'BLOOOSH!' He has pressed the hose trigger, and that delicious feeling of her insides being stired vigorously transforms into a hot, churning bloating feel, with sprays down the insides of her legs. Its intense, powerful, erotic, but *different*. The tension is broken, and ebbs away. Receeding. Then like a tide, it turns and begins to creep back. The warm water churning inside her, pounding at her cervix like a stiff finger, swelling and massaging her sheath with turbulent fingers, fluttering the lips of her sex as it sprays out past the thick nozzle... She gasps, sighing, her hips straining forwards. 'Oooohhhh yes, yesssss.... ahhh... ahhhhhhhh.....' Oh, if he does that much longer, she'll... an image of the blond woman, convulsing in orgasm rises before her. Yes, she'll have one of those, yes, please... 'oohhhhhh ummmmmmm... ahhhhhhhhhh... oooooooohhhhh yesss.... more....'

 

'CRASH!' There is no actual sound that she can hear, but the effect is the same. Again a jet spears into her clitoris, pinning the super sensitive flesh under a finger of driving hot water, blasting through the building wave of pleasure from her vagina. Shattering it, casting it back to the sea. This time it keeps on, like a merciless finger twirling hard on her nerve endings. Hard, oh... hard... the tension forms again, a dark and jagged form of powerful uncontrollable forces, promising to rip her mind loose from consciousness. It is coming for her, she can almost taste its flavour in her pounding heartbeat... it steps closer... her head is thrown back, grimacing in the glorious agony of too-strong stimulation, tensing as the roaring force approaches...

 

It stops. Her vagina is empty too. The tension hovers, thrumming through her belly and mind, waiting, unfinished. She doesn't even think to open her eyes, mind simply captive, lying tied across the railroad tracks of that coming train, the scene frozen in stop-time.

 

A touch. Her arse, a sensation from off her mind's screen. A pressure, and then a blast of hot liquid force driving into her there, like a violent scene change. Empty in front, unfinished, while in her arse the water pours in deep, the thick nozzle boring into her, shouldering aside her tightness. Worms of fluid heat sliding deeper into her centre, filling, rising upwards inside her body. The tension in her sex, disconnected and sidelined, retreats again, fading. Her bowels fill, as she feels herself bloat up like a balloon. Intense, but differently, strangely... as if that fullness beckons to her excitement, that begins to turn, to build again. Her body wants, needs, to be filled in its emptiness between her legs. This filling of her arse isn't the same thing, but somehow it connects. Not to mention that he is now thrusting the nozzle back and forth in her arse, and it feels somewhat like... like the same thing in her vagina. Except that just as she is getting a feel for that thrusting, he also starts triggering the water on and off in short blasts, which completely changes the sensation. On, off, on, off, pulses of pressure driving into her. Pulse, pulse, pulse, each time swelling her belly a bit more tightly.

 

Its all so intense, all so nastily stimulating, and she needs so badly to come... she could if he's just stick with one thing for a while, but it keeps changing, keeps throwing her off. Now that swollen feeling in her belly is so strong, its building up the cum-tension again. Maybe... he pulses the water, again and again, and she can feel herself getting closer....

 

Then he stops. Pulls the nozzle from her arse. She's clamped down hard there, both from the feel of need to contract, and fear of letting go the water. Even if she was washed out just a few hours ago. Ohhh... what other things are they going to do to us all? Her need is so strong, she can't help imagining what they may do to her... ohhhhh sooo full, so close, so intensely, tightly full, yet so empty where it counts... Her clit is so hard...

 

There's a sudden blaze of intensity from her breasts - first one then the other. She opens her eyes, round in shock. They are each holding a nozzle right against her nipples, and pulsing quick jets onto her nips. Owww! OOOOWW! Ohhhhww! Ohhh! She becomes aware of them talking again, a low background static of radio.

"Chick is certainly persistently perky, thats for sure."

"Yeah, wouldn't take much."

"Sure you don't wanna?"

"Nah man, not as if there's nothing else around, ha ha!"

"True, true. Guess best leave this fish for the bigger fish."

"Speaking of which, better get this train hooked up. I'll get the mover, you pull the plug."

"OK, fine, leave me the stinky job. Get outa here."

One of them turns and walks away, dragging his hose. He disappears out of sight past the truck doorway.

The other steps back to the doorway and touching his helmet again, loudspeaks to the vanload of women.

"Ladies, ladies, if I may have your attention please. Thank you all for your patience and retention, and now if you would, you may release. Yes, let it all out ladies. I'll be your shit washer today. Oh, and I guess you've all experienced your belt's features. Anyone who doesn't dump right now, gets another taste. Thank you, don't come again. Ha ha h...!" The amplified voice cuts off in mid laughter.

 

There's some muffled sobbing and indecipherable grumbling in the truck, then a torrent of wet splattering sounds. Followed by some very sudden changes in air quality. Mary doesn't want to look, and imagines not many of them would have their eyes open right now. Her belly is so full, and her stomach rumbling already, so she's glad to let go, even if it is horrible. At least she probably won't be too dirty. Smells like some were. She keeps her eyes closed tight, and in a moment hears the hose swooshing around in the room. For a while the water sprays over her again on its way past. It goes back and forth several times, and gradually the smell diminishes. The hose is still playing over them all when a new sound presents itself. A small motor engine, and she can smell diesel exhaust. She looks around, to see the same room full of naked, dripping girls, as clean as before. There is a small tractor backing up to the open doorway, with one of the plastic-suited blackjacks driving. The other reappears around the door edge, and lowers a sort of hook bar from the back of the tractor. He does something with the end of it at the base of the trolley of the girl closest to the door in Mary's row. Then he walks past the first two girls, to the Asian woman. He picks up the penetrator device, still pistoning, from her frame and stoops down behind her. Takes a tube of something from his pocket, smears some of it onto the anal salami, then presses its end against the girl's anus. Mary glances up, and finds the girl's dark eyes are staring directly at hers, pleadingly. Mary tries to give her a 'what can I do?' expression, just as the man applies some real pressure and the girl's eyes become wide and round. Mary can see the fat thing sliding into the girl, even though she can't see the actual entrance. When half is inside he stops, and with his other hand orients the pistoning tip of the shiny dildo against her vagina. On an up-stroke it slides in easily. He pushes the whole thing upwards, and very soon the sausage is entirely gone up inside, leaving just the strut to the base of the dildo. He takes the three cords one by one, and reattaches them to rings on the girl's waistband. Last is the rear cord, after which he gives her bottom a brisk slap, and raises his arm in the air. She faintly hears a radio voice "Giddyyup!"

 

A moment later there is a jerk, and the whole row of trolleys starts rolling out of the truck onto the pavement outside, which is level with the floor of the truck. Their trolleys make a kind of train, drawn by the tractor. After the last trolley in her row exits it stops, and the other blackjack manhandles the last few trolleys over to line up with the other row still in the truck. Another coupling clacks closed, and now that row follows the other when the tractor starts again. The blackjack hops onto the last trolley in the train as it slides past him, and they are away.

 

The moment Mary's own trolley passes out of the truck rear, she is horrified to find that they are actually outside. In the open. The truck bay has a roof overhead, and one wall. Apart from that, looking around she sees large open paved areas, lots of chain-wire fences in the medium distance and some nearer to one side. Its a bright, sunny day, early afternoon, without a cloud in the sky. Beyond the wire fences low mountains circle around three sides, while to the other there is a glimpse of distant ocean.

 

 

There are also a series of long, windowless white corrugated metal buildings, or barns, some distance away oceanwards, where the tractor is drawing them. They look newish, or at least recently painted. As the train of trolleys trundles along, bumping over joints in the concrete and making her breasts bounce, her perspective changes so she can see down gaps between the white buildings. She realises there are _many_ of them - a rectangular grid of white barns. Two more semitrailers like the one she was in enter via a guarded gate in one of the fences, and head off towards the unloading dock she's just left. Those fences... as they draw closer it becomes clear they are serious about security here. The fence is actually two rows of high cyclone wire fencing, separated by about twelve feet, and topped with rolled razor wire. There is some kind of thick black wire running along the meshing at chest height, and also some strands of bare wire, mounted on insulators at each fencepost. Their train is headed towards a cluster of prefab huts around a gate in the fence. There are people walking about, cars parked, some people in the gatehouse... and she is about to be among them, bound naked and spread-legged, hands locked behind her back, just one of a 'train' of twenty naked, gagged women, all strapped into these glorified shopping trolleys. She had already dried out from the hosing down, but now she can feel a trickle of moisture running down the inside of her thigh. She looks back down the 'train' to her left, at the other girls. They too are mostly staring ahead at the clustered structures. On the caboose trolley, the blackjack guard is standing pressed up against the woman's back, his arms around her, one hand cupping a breast, the other shaking up and down in her crotch. Tall and willowy, with light brown hair, the girl could easily be still in her teens. Her breasts are quite large for her figure, and still have that newly formed perfection of shape some girls hold for a few years, before gravity does its work. She is shaking her head from side to side, probably begging the guard to stop. He pays no attention.

 

Mary's mind in a whirl, the moments till they arrive at the gate seem to flick by instantaneously. Now they are stopped, the blackjack on the tractor chatting with the gatehouse guards. The other one steps down from the last trolley, wiping his gloved hand on the girl's bottom. He strolls casually up to the front and joins the conversation at the gatehouse. Someone gets around to opening the gate, and its long expanse begins to slide sideways slowly. As they drove here the trolleys had done their best immitation of supermarket trolleys, trying to run in all directions except forward across the wide expanse of concrete. Now they have stopped, the 'train' is a haphazard zigzag of a thing, that doesn't look likely to run through even this wide gate without clipping the posts. Three more men in blackjack uniforms emerge from the building, and walk towards the girls, together with their own guard. As the tractor pulls off, the men grab the more reluctant trolleys in the 'train' and haul them into a semblance of a straight line. The procession slowly draws past the gate, and into the gap between two rows of prefabs. There are people sitting inside, people standing at doorways talking, people getting into their cars, a woman in a dark business suit talking with a man wearing greasy overalls, and others. But Mary finds the whole thing bizarre - these people seem to almost ignore the precession. As if it was perfectly normal. Even when they do glance at the girls, they rarely look for long. Looking back, Mary notices that the blond woman is just starting another of her marathon and very spectacular orgasms. They pass several men in civilian cloths standing next to a ute, apparently discussing some drawings spread on the ute's back cover. These ones do look up, and follow the procession with their eyes, clearly watching the blond's display. Then they too return to their discussion. So far as Mary could tell, not one single person on the street had even noticed her among the other girls, let alone stared at her in particular. Somehow... she feels disappointed. She is so ashamed of her still erect clitoris, and... no one noticed.

 

Just then, she passes by a gap between huts, and glances down the narrow laneway. Gasps. There are... she stares, trying to be certain her eyes are not deceived. No. There is an open space past the lane. There, all in a line are five females, naked like her group. But these women are not on 'trolleys'. They are closely spaced, all facing the same way, each facing the back of one in front, an arm's length apart. They are standing upright, all with their arms raised, wrists fastened to the back of wide collars around their necks. Their legs are spread wide, at least forty five degrees from vertical, and their ankles strapped to short pegs set in the ground. Between their legs, a shiny pole rises from the ground, and seems to meet their crotch. They are not gagged. There are reddened streaks here and there on their skin. Her view lasts only a moment, then they pass out of sight. Were they... surely not? She is replaying the image in her mind, incredulous. Not one of those girls had looked over eighteen. It was hard to tell, with their expressions all red faced and dazed with sexual excitement, but possibly none of them were even sixteen. They were all very young, in any case. How did _they_ come to be here?  She decides she wants to pay careful attention to the goings on around her.

 

Only a moment later, two huts down the road, she looks in through a window. There inside, not five feet from the glass, is a nude female, hanging by her ankles from some ceiling support, her legs spread wide in what seems to be the standard position for nude females around here. Except this girl is upside down, and has some kind of complex metallic object fixed over her crotch, with tubes and wires looping from it up to the ceiling. Mary can't see below the girl's waist, which is level with the windowsill. Judging from the flexing and twisting of those legs and crotch she can see, the girl is very much alive. That scene too, passes by, but not before Mary catches a glimpse of another person off to the side of the room. It is a grey-haired woman in a white lab coat, spectacled, stooping slightly to look at something with lots of lights and a colored screen.

 

The 'road' (really just a space on the same ubiquitous concrete paving, where no prefab huts have been set down) makes a turn to the left ahead. This presents the train with a problem, because it doesn't follow corners well. The other three men had stayed at the gate, leaving only guard number two for 'steering' work. Mary can't help thinking this whole system is very slapdash and inefficient. But still, this whole place looks brand new, partially completed. There have been many piles of building material around. Perhaps the distance from truck unloading station to their destination is only a temporary thing. She laughs, the first time since being arrested. What is she thinking - how to run this operation more efficiently? She should be thinking about how to have this place exposed and shut down. Or... anything, except that perhaps she might end up like that upside down girl. Helpless and exposed, while some ancient dried-up crone conducted perverted sexual 'experiments' on her nubile young, excitable, sensitive, highly responsive and orgasm-craving sexual organs. Ohhhh imagine... if the old woman, wise in the ways of the female body, chose to torment her, constantly exciting her, rarely giving her relief, and then only as rewards for obeying the jealous old woman's every order exactly, and performing the most obscene acts to her precise instructions... she could...  huh. Mary shakes her head. 'Where did that come from?' she wonders. 'The hot sun must be getting to me.'

 

By now enough of the trolley procession has got around the corner, for Mary to see down the next 'road'.

Again she gasps. There, lined up along the side of this road, is another chain of people-trolleys. This one is shorter - only eight modules, with eight naked bodies strapped to the frames. But these are not women, not even underage girls. These are men. Young men, perhaps early twenties. Its hard to tell for sure, due to their all wearing eyeless masks over their upper faces as well as the same ball gags as the girls. They are in the same posture- wrists fixed behind the small of their backs to a waist belt. Ankles strapped to the wide base of the frame. Upper thighs encircled by broad straps, that are fixed to the frames by tight cords, pulling the thighs wider. Armpits placed on padded hoop hooks, that require a lift of at least a foot to escape.

But none of that drags her eye to it like one other difference from the girl's bindings. The men's trolleys are lined up by the building wall, with them all facing out into the street. Every single one of them is sporting a huge, rigid, upstanding erection. Each man is panting, straining, their hips thrusting forward, then back, then forward, as if in desperate need to sink those rigid, reddened organs into the tight wetness of a vagina. Each penis is dripping a viscous, clear liquid from its end, in such amounts that their legs are streaked with the shiny stuff, and the trolley bases carry damp stains between the men's feet. Clearly lubrication would not be a problem. Most shockingly to her, what *would* be a problem should these organs ever find a vagina, is the metalwork pierced through the tip of each swollen glans. Her trolley is passing by the men only a few feet distant, and she can see the constructions clearly. Each penis has a silvery metal tube projecting about an inch from the urethra eye, about the diameter of a pencil. Piercing the glans, just back from the tip, are four rods in the form of a cross, The lower one extends about five inches, while the upper and sideways ones extend about three, forming a crucifix. They are shiny stainless steel, with pointy tips. They clearly join to the urethral tube inside the glans. From the tip of that tube, several smaller spike rods radiate like petals of a flower - some pointing forwards, some curving back around the glans to form a sparse but spiky cage. Four of those rods straighten and proceed on four sides of the penis shafts, about an inch out, right to the base. Here they converge and join again in a thicker metal ring, tight around the base of the straining penis, pressing against the pubic mound. These are caged, untouchable penises. Vagina-proof penises, and even hand-proof. If the men's hands were ever free.

 

Mary's breath is stopped. She'd expected the first hard penis she ever saw would be Russel's. Now here are eight all at once. All... so big! She isn't quite sure... they look at least eight or nine inches long, no less. Isn't 'average' supposed to be six? Would those...without their cages... fit? She can't help imagining having an organ like that thrusting into her. Like those... Imagine if she was tied to this frame, and those men... all... one after another, and then again and again, relieving all their obvious pent-up needs... Her vagina aches, clenching spastically at the thought. 'Silly fantasy' she tells herself, and then suddenly in a blinding rush, the reality of her situation hits her. Somehow it hadn't before. She's been 'disappeared'. The people Homeland Security arrests secretly as terrorists, and imprisons without trial - she's one of them now. No one knows that the disappeared get treated like this, and they never, ever come back. She'd heard whispered rumours of camps, and people caged like animals, tortured during interrogation. But never anything like this! The things she's seen already, the casual toying with her body, her sex, the perverted mechanisms used on others she's seen... she's in here now. Its going to happen to her too. A lot. Years and years... She'll have no say in it at all. That blond, who's latest extended electric orgasm has just been terminated as abruptly as always - that will be her. The Asian girl, now contorting in near but never permitted orgasm from the shaft reaming her sex, that will be her. The upside down girl, subject to the kinky research whims of a bitter old woman who probably never got any, mad scientist or not... that will be her too. She is in the hands of Nazis, perverts and religious maniacs. Anything could happen, and probably will. And... she looks down at herself, her rigid and oversized clit sticking out like a tiny penis... I stand out. My clit stands out.

 

She considers for a moment, letting herself feel the heat throbbing in her loins, and the way these thoughts make that throb beat deeper and stronger. 'And, God help me, thinking about it standing out makes it stand out more. Oh, my brilliant plan, oh Russel! I was saving it for you, and teasing myself for you. Now... here I am, exceedingly teased, frustrated and horny. Now its going to blow back on me. Here, 'frustrated and horny' is a ticket to special treatment. Oh dear God, and the Jesus Morality folks have already noticed me and think I get off from seeing other girls get messed around with.

 

As the wonky train of rack mounted naked women trundles down the uneven concrete surface towards those distant white barns with the ocean glinting blue past them, she thinks she could cry. If she wasn't feeling so damnably horny.

 

 --- end part 1 ---