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Subject: {ASSM} RP: THE FACTORY {Theodore Spoonbender} F nc machine humor
Date: Sun,  1 Apr 2001 04:10:05 -0400
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*********************************************************************
************************ THE FACTORY
******************************
*********************************************************************
 

	By Theodore Spoonbender@spoonbender.demon.co.uk


 
********************************************************************
Fiction for adults only.(c) Spoonbender. Can be freely copied and 
distributed, but not as part of any  fee paying service. If you 
archive it please let me have access to the archive. Email me if you 
want  more stories or if you have any constructive criticism. Please 
don't flame me, I'm still learning the  craft. My address is 
theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk.  
  I don't know how to classify this story. Maybe some reviewer with a 
firmer grasp on reality than me  can do it for me.  
  "Damned odd sort of tale, young fella!" As usual Colonel Bufton 
Tufton has hit the nail right on the  head.  
  He switched off the computer and went back to his paper.  
 
*********************************************************************


  Have you ever wondered what was behind some of those ads you see on 
the news pages. You know the  ones.....  

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hi I'm Lisa. I'm 19 and really horny. I can send you a pair of my 
used panties and a photo set for only  $25....... 
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
 

This is the story about one of those girls  
  I don't know how long I've been here. There ain't no night and day. 
Just work and sleep, work and  sleep. What's that? Oh, what do I do?  
  I'm a machinist I suppose. Least that's what I spend most of my 
time doing. Sewing, you know  making clothes. Only one type though. 
Panties. I make panties. I do other stuff too, I don't make  anything 
else though, 'cept panties. I'll tell you all about it but I need 
something in return.   
  Ok, ok.  Me first.  
  I'm sixteen. A description? Oh well I'm about 5' 2", 34, 30, 34, 
sort of mousey colored hair. Worn  long, hazel eyes, my boyfriend 
reckons I'm pretty, but then he would say that wouldn't he?  
  I'm not a brain box or anything like that. I'm just sort of 
ordinary. One of a large family. Hardly  noticed. I did well enough 
at school. I didn't flunk anything anyway.  
  Anyhow I had just finished school and gotten my first job. It was 
in a garment factory, way over the  other side of the city. I had to 
get my own apartment. It wasn't much of an apartment but it gave me a 
sort of pride in my adulthood. I was out there making it on my own. I 
had very few friends, the girls at  the factory didn't seem to last 
long enough to become friendly with. Must be a high turnover of 
staff, I  thought. One day they were there the next day they'd just 
gone. Some of them were just working class  girls like me, mostly 
young. Others were students, you know cheerleader types. Brainy and 
stuff. Talking about what they were gonna do when they finished 
college. They were gonna be lawyers,  managers that sort of stuff. I 
wonder if they did? They were just working there, in the holidays, to 
get  some spending cash. I really envied those girls with their 
bright futures, even though they were a bit  stuck up.  
  What were we making?  
  We were making panties. Some of the girls seemed to specialize in 
the sexy lace stuff. Me? I got plain  white standard schoolgirl ones 
to do. All my own size too. Everyone seemed to be making the same 
type of panties every time and all of them the size that would 
perfectly fit the people that made them. I  thought it was a bit 
weird at the time, but if they wanted to pay, what to me, was a 
pretty good wage.  Then who was I to argue?  
  I'll tell you another strange thing. I had to put on this 
schoolgirl outfit once, for a 'company photo'.  Pony tails, white 
socks, pleated skirt the lot. I'd been there a few weeks but I 
thought this was really  strange.   
  Why didn't I leave? The money I suppose. They gave me a pay raise 
and things just carried on as before.  I thought for a while my boss 
was a sort of pervert. But he gave me an extra $50 a week, so I sorta 
shrugged and said "what the heck". It was still kinda odd at the 
time, I can understand why now, of  course. I looked a lot younger in 
the photos. 12, 13 maybe.  
  Have I seen the photos? Oh yeah! I've seen the photos alright, 
plenty of times.  
  Back to my job. I was given sort of cut out shapes of cloth, you 
know bits of panty, and I had to  assemble the things completely, You 
know, making a gusset, turning the seams, joining the sides,  fitting 
the elastic. It was pretty tedious stuff, but I didn't mind, as I 
said it was good money and I had  my walkman. I sort of lived in a 
fantasy dreamworld. My fingers seemed to work automatically after a  
while.  
  The boss had promised me an amazing increase in salary and a 
transfer to a more interesting job, if I  could reach a certain 
number of finished, non defective, goods per shift. His words, not 
mine. I worked really hard, thinking I'd soon be out of here, and I 
became pretty good. None of my products  had defects. Then I reached 
the magic number and sustained it.  
  My boss was really pleased. One night he told me to stay on after 
the other girls went home and he'd  show me my new job. I remember 
sitting in the factory, it was really quiet, normally I couldn't 
hardly  hear myself  think over the clatter of the sewing machines. I 
heard a footstep behind me. I half turned  expecting to see my boss. 
I don't remember anything else.  
  'Till I woke up here. I don't know where I am, though I feel for 
some reason I'm still in Chicago. I  can't hear it but I think I can 
feel a sort of rumble every now and then. I think it's a train. It 
'feels' like  the El. If you've lived in Chicago you'll know what I 
mean.   
  Anyhow I'm here. Wherever. I'm in a sort of box. Its got all sorts 
of racks and tubes and stuff all  around. In front of me is a sewing 
machine, it was mounted on a sort of slide, so I could push it to one 
side if I needed a flat surface. The box is probably 6 feet long and 
about 4 feet wide and, maybe, five  feet tall. I'm sitting close to 
one wall, about half way along one of the longest sides. In front of 
me  there are bins which contain panty parts. It appears that I'm 
just gonna continue making the same sort  of panties.   
  The strange this is that I'm naked. Least I think I am, I can't 
feel any clothes down there. You see my  body has been fitted into a 
sort of hole, so the bottom half of my body can't be touched, at 
least by me.  I can't even see it, as the work top goes all round 
with some sort of inflated belt around my waist which  made it so I 
couldn't even get a finger between my waist and the work top. My 
bottom half seems  kinda remote after all this time, like it ain't 
mine.  
  Which I suppose it ain't, not any more. Now its just part of the 
machine. I'm sitting on some sort of  chair. 'Cept this is different. 
It kinda swivels in the middle, you know, splits open. The seat is 
kinda U  shaped I guess. I haven't seen it, just felt it, that's what 
it feels like anyhow. It means that my vagina is sorta poking down, 
hanging free, easy to get at. My ass hole too, when it ain't got that 
horrible,  slippery, metal probe thing in it.   
  They've tied some sorta strap around my thighs, tied to a pole like 
thing, best as I can tell, one for  each leg. They can move these, 
with some sorta motor, so they can open and close my legs just as 
they want. It's a kinda weird feeling, having no control. The machine 
just says "Yeah lets open her legs"  and hey presto they're open, as 
wide as it likes. Nothing I do will stop it. I've quit fighting it 
now. They could take the straps off now and I'd open and close my 
legs automatically. You see I know the  noises the machine makes now. 
I can sense when it wants something. So I just give in. Do it. You  
know take part. It ain't that I've got any choice. It even decides 
that I sleep with my legs wide open.  I've got a tall pillow thing. I 
lean against it. Turn down the light and I sleep. Under the bench I 
am wide. I  spend about half my time like that, wide.  
  What? Do I get fucked?  
  By a man? No. I've never been fucked by a man. I was a virgin when 
I came here, strict Catholic  father you see. So I've never been 
fucked properly. Of course the machine fucks me. It just can't leave  
me alone. It always wants something and I've just got to give in. 
Anytime.  
  I'm even fucked awake. You know that?  Its like an alarm clock, a 
fucking alarm clock. That's right a  FUCKING alarm clock! One minute 
you're sleeping, the next you've got something inside you.  Pumping! 
It's the most humiliating experience you can imagine. You wake up 
completely out of it.  You don't know where you are, what you're 
doing. Nothing. Except you're being fucked. Hard. Not the  gentle 
sort of early morning lovemaking that married couples do everyday. 
Least I think they do.  
  This is fast - hammering.  
  Look! Imagine me. I'm sitting here my legs are wide open and 
something is fucking me. I can't see it,  I don't know what it looks 
like. And I have to go to orgasm. The little book told me. You know 
the  one they left me so I could read it when I woke up, that first 
day. It told me that the only way I had of  stopping the machine was 
to cum. The book also said that the machine automatically sensed when 
I  was having a real one. So there was no good faking. So what do I 
do? First thing in the morning. Well  my morning at least. I'm being 
fucked. What do I do? I orgasm. 'Course I do. Ain't got any choice 
have I? Not unless I want to be fucked for hours. I just play with my 
tits and try to get off as soon as  possible. I've been sorta 
calculating it. I reckon I can do it in about three minutes. Maybe I 
could go  for an Olympic record. I can go from asleep to cum in three 
minutes. That must be a record. Maybe I'll  get in that book. You 
know the one. What's it called? Yeah that's it, the Guinness record 
book. I could  get in there. If they have sex stuff. Probably don't, 
my little brother had a copy and I don't think my  mum would be too 
pleased if he read about sex stuff. So maybe I can't. I couldn't 
anyway. 'S cause I'm  stuck here. That's what I want you to do for 
me. You know, find me. Search out the clues. I know. I  know. I can't 
help much. I'll think about it. Talking it through with you helps. 
Helps me think.   
  So my day starts. Fucking. After I've cum the cock goes away and 
then some cloth is pressed up  against my pussy. I couldn't work out 
what it was at first. I soon realized. It was the panties. A pair of 
panties was pressed up against my gash. Gusset up. I've seen the damp 
patches, always in the same  place. The dildo comes back and pushes 
the panties hard against my cunt. Then it starts vibrating.  Fast!  
  I've worked it all out. I think the dildo has a sorta sensor on it, 
cause it seems to know when the  panties are wet enough. Cause it 
suddenly just stops. Usually just as I'm about to cum. The panties 
are removed, a new pair are placed up against me and it all starts 
again. All day that goes on.  
  A hiss of air and the soiled panties are shot up a tube. I have to 
get them and seal them into a bag,  with a photo of me in the school 
uniform, one of my face, smiling, and one that I reckon is my pussy 
with the dildo pushing into it. Leastways its somebody's pussy. Its 
probably mine 'cept I've never seen  it like that before. With 
something in it and all. Anyhow in with this lot goes a piece of 
paper. It is  some shit about how I've got off for you, love you, man 
of my dreams stuff. I seal it and post it  through a flap onto a 
conveyor. I know there's a conveyor 'cause I opened the flap and saw 
it once, I  saw other packages too so maybe I'm not alone. I got an 
electric shock up my ass for that. I haven't  done it again. What I 
want to know is how do they know?  
  So all day I'm doing this. My cunt gets numb from the vibration 
sometimes. They shoot something  into my ass. Aftershave  I think, 
hurts like hell whatever it is. I soon get my feeling back. I get wet 
again. On command.  
  All the time I'm working. Its like I'm in two parts. The top part 
is a machinist, working away making  panties. Panties which get fed 
into a machine that includes my bottom half. I think about it  
sometimes. You know about making panties that will never get worn. 
What do these people do with  them? I make the panties then stretch 
them on a frame, which is dropped into a slot thing. I have to  make 
sure I keep ahead of the machine. Make sure that I don't get so wet 
that my stock of panties runs  out before I can make more. I must 
keep ahead. If I don't the machine hurts me. Its got lots of ways of 
hurting me. I just work hard. Try not to notice what's going on below 
me. As I said I'm now two  different halves. One half belongs to me 
the other to the machine.  
  I get to orgasm 8 times a day. Always 8 times. Always the same. The 
fake cock fucks me. 7 times if  you don't count my wake up fuck. I 
can request an orgasm. I press a button and when the machine  feels 
like it, it fucks me. Other times it just does it. Legs open, bang, 
bang, bang, cum, legs closed,  back to work. That's it. My total 
sexual experience in a sentence.   
  I kinda like cuming. It feels nice. Makes me forget for a bit where 
I am and what I'm doing. The  prick seems to vibrate as it pumps. Do 
real men's thingies do that? I don't know, I've never done it  with a 
man. Oh I guess I told you that already, haven't I? I'd like to try 
it. You know, doing it with a  man. I reckon it would be nice. Maybe 
I'd get to, maybe, have some say in it. Have a little control. I  
hope I can do it with you when you find me. If you're a man. Are you 
a man?  
  I bet you wouldn't wipe your Penis. Penis is a funny word isn't it. 
I can't say it without giggling. I  heard it in the school Biology 
class. All the girls giggling and going red. The schoolteacher 
shouting  for order. Pee - nis! he-he. Penis. Peeeeeeenis!   
  I'm sorry about giggling. I'll be serious from now on. I've got a 
straight face now. Anyhow, as I was  saying, I bet you wouldn't wipe 
your penis on my panties after I've cum. Nor would you make me put 
them into a special bag with an O printed in red on it. I bet you'd 
be more romantic wouldn't you? I  wouldn't have to put my panties in 
a bag at all if I'm with you would I? We'd be kinda romantic  
together. Are you romantic? My boyfriend was. He always said nice 
things to me as he put his hand  up my skirt. Saying how beautiful I 
was an all. I was going to do it with him. Go all the way. He was 
going to buy some condoms. I won't now of course. Well, I've got you 
for a start, I can picture you in  my mind. Strong and handsome. You 
are strong and handsome aren't you? My boyfriend probably has someone 
else now anyway. Oh well. He was handsome too.  
  What? Oh is it vibrating? Now do you mean? Sure! Yes. But I can 
mostly ignore it if I want. Don't tell  the machine will you. Keep 
your voice down. I don't want it to know. I can't ignore it 
completely though. Well you can't can you? Its buzzing. I can't hear 
it, I can feel it. I know. Female intuition, plus  a numb sort of 
buzzy feeling round my crotch. Oops its finished. Must have been 
wetter than I thought, must have been 'cause I was thinking of you. 
Wait a minute, don't go away.  
  There! done. Another package goes who knows where. Do you know? 
Where do they go? Are you still  there?  
  Good! Thanks for staying with me. I get really lonely. Aaaaah, 
sorry about that the thing banged up to  me pretty hard that time. 
Nearly pushed them inside. I'd never get them out then. Its Ok, its 
buzzing again. Back to normal.  
  Where was I? Oh yeah. Talking about me.   
  Clothing? No I'm not wearing anything. Leastways up top. Can't feel 
anything below, so I guess I'm  naked. Got these little sucker things 
on my titties though. I'm looking at 'em now. Like little rubber 
suckers. I can't get 'em off. Must be attached in some way. If I pull 
'em. Ouch. They hurt. They suck  too. Sucking suckers you could say. 
Got these little tubes and wires and shit running from 'em. They  
suck when I'm being fucked. Its kinda nice. The feeling sorta rushes 
down from my tits and meets the  feeling from my cunt coming the 
other way. That's the best way I can describe it. When they meet. 
 Sockeee. Pow! I cum. Cum like a train. Bet you're shocked now aren't 
you?  
  I get shocked as well. Not a sort of 'Oh my gosh I wasn't expecting 
that' sort of shocked. Shocked with  electricity. If the machine 
thinks I've been bad I get shocked. In my tits. It really hurts. I 
don't like it.  Up my bum too. I try not to make him angry.  
  He takes care of me. He feeds me. He cleans me. He washes me. He 
fucks me and he puts me to sleep.  
  What do I eat?  Oh I get fed on scraps. You know good food all 
mixed up. Lots of different things,  like lasagne, spaghetti and ice 
cream. I must be near an Italian restaurant. Hey that's another clue 
isn't it? You'll soon be able to work out where I am. Get help, come 
and rescue me. Oh god maybe I can  get out of this place. Be free 
again.....  
 
********************************************************************* 
 
  "Unit 162 is having imaginary conversations again." 

  The control supervisor rolled his chair towards operator 2's 
console. He scrutinized the video and  listened in on the headphones 
to the chatter.  
  "Ok. We'd better take her mind off it. Give her a double dose 
fucking, say for an hour. Before that  increase the size of the dildo 
to, let me think, yes! A 9 incher, that'll be her size from now on. 
Put the  tit and ass shocks on too. Give her the works. I think its 
about time she learned that she was here to  work, not to indulge in 
idle chatter."  
  The operator switched to her lower view on the video then initiated 
the sequence suggested by the  supervisor. A few seconds later a new 
dildo swung out of its storage bin, then clicked into place facing 
her cunt. Her legs sprang open and moments later, buzzing busily, the 
dildo started to hammer into  action.  
  Her talking was replaced by grunting moans. Her moment of sanity 
had gone.  
 
******************************************************************** 
 
  FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and 
who is prepared to collaborate  with me on future stories. You will 
naturally share the credit, such as it is. If you are her. Then 
please email me at theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk  
  Theodore Spoonbender 




__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Get email at your own domain with Yahoo! Mail. 
http://personal.mail.yahoo.com/?.refer=text

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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