Karen tried to wiggle, to move as much as she could to have that stranger look at her, at her eyes, she hoped were still somewhat visible through the fogged up lenses.
Yes, she’s looking. She’s getting closer. Karen opened her eyes wide and looked lower, at the console, at the abort button, then at the woman again, then the button, the woman, the button.
Valerie was getting closer, the creaking of debris under her heels was echoing in the room. The woman who was inside that thing was moving, like struggling, trying to get free, fighting her situation.
But… who was that woman, if it was in fact a woman. Was it some kind of failed experiment, kept prisoner there to make sure it would not destroy the planet? Was it an alien, in an alien prison? Would she free an unwilling prisoner, or unleash a pandemic… oh, right. Already done.
For a moment, she simply looked at her, realizing the situation she was in, held up from the ground, chained, arms in her back, and those hoses, those tubes, going to the gasmask, to her breasts, to her crotch.
Her brain immediately saw what she read once, some kind of weird true story, where a woman was encased into some sort of pleasure suit, being stimulated, breasts pumped and stuff, the whole body suspended by heavy springs. She recalled that the device was called “The Creature” or something like that, her orgasms controlled by the operator of the machine.
She became hot. Was it it? Was this The Creature?
She tried to look at her, at her eyes, to see the pleasure, but she could barely see them. The lenses were dirty or… fogged up? Yes, that was probably it. And her eyes were wide, like surprised, and going up and down, looking at her, then at the console.
Was she trying to send her a message?
She took a closer look at the consoles: dials for years, month, day and hours. Then conditioning and stimulation controls. There was nothing labeled as torture, or punishment time. Could it be simply a pleasure box? The Creature? If so, she still had… oh gosh… three more years? Or was it the original target without any way to tell how long it still has to go. How… how long has she been in this machine? She was so confused. She didn’t know what to think.
She looked at that… thing again. She could see her eyes through the fogged lenses of her mask. Barely, but she could make up that she was looking down at the console, like directing toward a control, toward the buttons.
She reached, slowly, over the controls, looking at her eyes, at her head barely moving. She noticed a small negative nod as she went over the dials, then over the buttons. Yes, that was a yes, over the red one: Stop/Abort. Was that it? She hovered her hand over the green button, and she deciphered a negative nod. Red button: yes nod.
She hesitated, putting her finger on it, then pulling back. Was it the right choice? She looked at her eyes. They were pleading. And deep down, she wanted to try The Creature herself.
She had another long look at whoever was inside, tightly wrapped in shiny rubber, heavily cuffed, suspended by chains, unable to move, hands in her back.
She remembers feeling similar things the first time she saw a woman tied up in latex on some internet feed. Was she liking it? Did she really want to try it?
Suddenly, she felt her feet encased in high heels, her legs wrapped in three sized too small faux-leather leggings, her upper body squished by a shirt and jacket too small. She was wearing all this more than to make a fashion statement. She was… Was she?
Finger shaking, she pressed on the red button. All the displays reverted to zero. The humming that was coming from the device slowly subsided. She heard mechanical devices, like motors, move. She saw her being lowered, the chains holding her in place were getting loose. The woman inside closed her eyes, hard, as if it was painful. She wondered if she did the right thing.
Karen screamed of joy. Yes, that woman understood what she was asking for. She had pressed the stop button. But her joy was quickly overwhelmed by the tubes getting pulled out of her mouth and nose. It was a relief, but a painful one, but it was nothing compared to her constricted waist being suddenly released.
The pain was almost unbearable. Every breath was extremely painful as her rib cage expanded for the first time in years.
Even though her muscles have been stimulated and kept alive, having to support her whole weight on her ballet boots was almost too much.
The door opened as she was still struggling with her almost numb arms to remove the different chains linked to the straps of the suit.
And she collapsed on the ground, panting, moaning. For the first time in eons, her limbs moved, bent, twisted. She felt the tight rubber fight the movements. She couldn’t believe she was still getting pleasure from it, from the feeling. Half laying on her side on the floor, she tried to say something, to say thank you, but only a faint grumble came out.
She moved slowly, looking more than a squirm, under the stunned look of that woman who was now wearing some kind of surgical mask.
But she was out. And looking at that woman with the mask, she felt lucky that a nurse got her out. She would be able to check on her health. She smiled then lost consciousness.
December 19, 2020
… To Be Continued. Part 3 Here
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