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From: Wayne Mitchel <thetechnician1001@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Metamorphosis     Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Machine / Lesbian / Female Masturbation / Spanking / Flogging
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Date: Thu, 12 Nov 2015 07:10:39 -0500
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Metamorphosisby The Technician Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Machine /Lesbian / Female Masturbation / Spanking / Flogging  = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = AI Metal changes a woman'sbody and life - a Kafkaesque story. Franz Kafka had a greatinfluence on writing and literature in the 20th century. Even today, strangeand/or creepy stories are called Kafkaesque. In his novella "DieVerwandlung" (usually translated into English as"Metamorphosis") a man slowly turns into a cockroach. In my version ofMetamorphosis, I go one up on Kafka. Not only does a woman totally change, herentire world changes around her. More than that, she becomes something much,much more interesting than a cockroach. The story is told in the formof "Autolog" entries. In the future, Autolog entries have replacedblogging, tweeting, and other forms of posting as a person's thoughts areautomatically recorded for all to see. I don't really like thisstory, but it is a writer's equivalent of an "ear worm" that keepsplaying in my head. The only way to get rid of an "ear worm" is tosing the stupid song. The only way to get rid of a "writer's worm" isto finish the story and post it... so I did.  In one of my English coursesin college most of the class became almost orgasmic about"Metamorphosis". I didn't like it. The professor asked each of us tosay why we thought Kafka wrote it. I was one of the last to answer and I said,"He needed the money." According to the professor, Iwas right. Kafka always said that he hated "Metamorphosis" butwouldn't say why. He was asked in a newspaper interview shortly before hisdeath in 1924 if he had ever written anything just for the money. His answer,"Die Verwandlung." Many think that it is his greatest work.  = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = WARNING! All of my writing isintended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or evenextreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and anyresemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions,situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted inreal life. If you are under the age or18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if youreside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits thereading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately andmove to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.Archiving and reposting ofthis story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statementof limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c)2015 by The Technician ( Technician666@Gmail.Com. ) Individual readers mayarchive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercialuse. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixedformat is expressly forbidden.  = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =Published eBooks by WayneMitchell (The Technician}Senior Projecthttp://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=7753Handcuff Islandhttp://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8160I, Masochisthttp://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8263  = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = * * * * * * * * * * * *  Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619-107-09- 27 I did it! I smuggled AIM outof the facility. No one is supposed to be able to get their hands on ArtificialIntelligence Metal, but I did it! I have been planning this for a long, longtime. And my plan worked!!! My first plan was going to bemisdirecting an emergency repair kit to a fictitious damaged space craft toreplace one used on a mission. It was a good plan, but there are too manycross-checks meant to guarantee that every gram of AIM is accounted for.Misdirecting a kit would have been no problem. I send out replacement kits allthe time, and as long as a shipment receipt was included to close the casefile, no one would notice. But I knew that any kit issued is automaticallycross-referenced against damage reports and vice versa. I would have also hadto create a false battle or accidental damage report in the system. That wouldhave involved getting into military planning records that I can't access withmy current clearances. Besides, there aren't thatmany battles or accidents. I would be able to get by with something like thatonly once, and one kit wouldn't have enough Artificial Intelligence Metal forwhat I wanted to do. There isn't all that much AIM in a repair kit because youdon't need a lot of AIM to repair a damaged spacecraft, regardless of how bigit is or how badly it is damaged. That's the beauty of AIM.Once you put it in place and activate it, AIM merges itself with the metalsalready present in the craft and it changes the characteristics of that metal.For a short while, almost all metal in the whole ship can become quasi-sentientand self- repairing. So, all you really need is a little bit to start theprocess. I need more because I am notgoing to use AIM on a space craft. I am going to use it on a human body--eventually. For now, I need to run a series of tests on lower life forms toprove that AIM can be used to repair or modify a living organism. Once I provemy theories, I can get investors and then legally obtain and market AIM formedical uses. A short while after that I will be rich beyond even my wildestdreams. But first I have to provethat AIM will work for medical purposes, and the tests needed to prove thatwill take at least three times more AIM than is in just one kit. What Ismuggled out of the facility today was the equivalent of four kits. I wouldnever have been able to misdirect four kits.  Actually, getting the AIM outof the facility once I had acquired it was the easiest part. AIM isn'texplosive or poisonous, it won't trigger the automatic vapor sensors. Thescanners we have to pass through each day can't penetrate the thick metal ofour security briefcases, so we have to open them each morning and evening forvisual inspection by the guards. The guards are so used to quickly shufflingthrough layers and layers of papers checking for contraband, that they didn'tnotice that the inside of my briefcase, itself, was slightly brighter thanusual. That's because taped to the inside was a thin slab of AIM protected byan unmarked transport stability pack. Transport stability packs arenormally used to safely contain bulk blocks of AIM before they are broken upinto the 4.5 gram nuggets used in the repair kits. The stability packs alsohelp prevent the AIM from being accidentally activated. Proper activation isessential to AIM. The amount needed to "seed" a repair is only 4grams, but to allow for the possibility that a portion of the nugget might notproperly activate, all repair kits are stocked with exactly 4.5 grams of AIM. The exactness of thatmeasurement is what gave me the opening I needed to accumulate my needed amountof AIM. Getting it was tedious, but very easy. We have to sign out any AIM fromCentral Stores when we do experiments or tests in the lab. It is signed back inagain when we return it to Central Stores. I took advantage of the fact thatthe scales at Central Stores measure to one one-hundredth of a gram, but theproperty ticket that it prints rounds to the nearest tenth. We have been dividing andcertifying AIM nuggets for repair kits for the past three months. Each time Istarted on a new kit, I would go to Central Stores and carve off a nugget thatwas exactly 4.54 grams. With an electronic scalpel, that isn't as hard to do asit sounds. The property ticket would read 4.5 grams. When I got it down to mylab, I would carefully shave .09 grams off the nugget before I began my tests.The nugget, which now weighed 4.45 grams would be within spec for the repairkits, and the property ticket when I turned it back in would read 4.5 grams. After I had tested 200nuggets, I had 18 grams of AIM hidden in my work area. Just to be sure that Iwas not discovered in a random log audit, I instructed my Autolog ThoughtRecorder to erase any entries which dealt with shaving the nuggets or smugglingmaterials out of the labs or using AIM for medical purposes. I then set up thisspecial log on a private portion of my storage area and gave detailed andexplicit instructions to my Autolog profile to log everything that had to dowith my special experiments to this log file... and ONLY this log file. The Autolog doesn't recordeverything, so this record will be somewhat incomplete. But it does summarizeor make notes of anything which I consider be important. I very rarely have toedit my Autologs. They are almost as if I had dictated them later for therecord. In case something goes wrong, I have set this log to become public if Ino longer make entries to it for a period of 100 days. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619- 109-13-51 Today is a rest day and Ihave taken the next two weeks as vacation so I will have time to conduct myexperiments. If everything goes as planned, I may never have to return to workat the facility. I am starting with a smallrodent. I have intentionally broken one of its forearms-- I used anesthetic--and am taping a very small amount of AIM to his now- useless paw. When I pulsethe activator, the AIM should become active and merge with his flesh and bone.It will learn of the break and repair it. Then, if it follows design criteria,it should shut itself down so that it is once again safe to handle. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619- 110-01-03 Something is wrong! AIM almost instantly repairedthe rat's broken bone, but it didn't deactivate as programmed. It continued tomodify the rat's body. It's teeth began to grow at a tremendous rate and itbegan attacking the plastic sides of the observation cage. Luckily I hadplanned for all contingencies and had conducted the experiment in a military-grade biological test station. I immediately triggered theprimary containment protocol. Gas filled the test station-- and the observationcage. This should have quickly euthanized the rodent, but it had no effect andthe super rat continued to grow larger and gnaw at the plastic of the cage.When it chewed through the small observation cage I was forced to resort totriggering the emergency biological hazard containment response. The rat, itscage, and everything within the test station was instantly incinerated. When the smoke cleared, therewas nothing in the test area except ash and a very small nugget of ArtificialIntelligence Metal. I brushed the ash into the waste opening and sealed thereceptacle. The AIM nugget I put into a small containment case so I couldtransfer it back to the main block later today. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619-110-12-42 Something went terribly,terribly wrong when I picked up the block of AIM from which I had carved thesmall nugget to test on the rodent. It was still partially wrapped in thetransport stability film which kept it stable and concealed it while I smuggledit out of the lab. But as I lifted the block, I felt it quiver. It was active! My homemade activation devicewas evidently more powerful than what we use at the lab. Or, perhaps, my designallowed for a lot more radiation leakage into the surrounding area. Perhaps ithas something to do with my changing the frequency of the pulse so it wouldactivate the AIM for living tissue rather than standard space metals. In anycase, when I pulsed the small nugget, the pulse must have activated the entireblock. Maybe it would have made a difference if the stability pack had beenresealed, but even open, the bulk block was farther away from the test benchthan it would have been at the facility. None of that makes any difference,though. The reality was that, however and whyever it occurred, the main blockwas active. I had safely handledaccidentally activated AIM before, but the slight movement startled me, causingme to almost drop the block. When I grabbed at it to keep it from falling, myhand came in contact with the unshielded AIM-- all 18 grams of it. TheArtificial Intelligence Metal immediately attached to my hand and merged into mybody. I tried to reach for the activator to send a deactivation pulse, but myarms refused to move. The sensations arephenomenal. I can feel my body changing... no healing. My left ankle, which I brokemany years ago and has bothered me ever sense, is suddenly like new. Something is wrong with myvision. My vision is blurry. I took out my contact lensesand my vision is perfectly clear. I've worn glasses since I was nine, but myvision is now perfect. Every place in my body that Ihave ever injured is restoring itself to like new. Even the little scar on myknee is gone. Oh my God! My breasts arestarting to grow. I have always wanted larger tits, but have always thoughtthat even the best implants look artificial. I have to take off my bra.It's too tight. My jeans are also getting tight. The waistband is cutting me inhalf because my flat butt is no longer flat. My body now curves rather thangoing straight down from my shoulders to my toes.  I had to take everything off.I am now staring at the changes in my body in my reflection on the front of thetest chamber. I was a 34B. Now I am a 36C plus. They're not udders, but theylook really good on me. My waist is smaller, but my hips are slightly larger.My thighs have a slight curve to them on the outside, as do my calves. I looklike what I always envisioned as a perfect me. As I turn, I can see that myass is nicely rounded out also. I was always teased about my slightly flatbutt, but now it, too, is perfect. One surprise is that all hairfrom the neck down seems to be disappearing. That isn't really healing, but Ihave always hated the hairy thatch between my legs that was way too dark, waytoo thick, and way too bushy. If I didn't keep it trimmed, it grew out of mypanties within a month or two. If I tried to shave it, I got razor burns andingrown nubs. My one attempt at waxing was a painful disaster. Now my pussy isbeautifully smooth, and so are my legs and arms and underarms.My teeth are repairingthemselves. All of my fillings are gone. The chipped tooth from where I fell ineighth grade has even filled itself back in. I turn slowly in front of themirror-like front of the test station. My body is PERFECT! But it isn't stopping. I canfeel it talking to my brain. I know that sounds weird, but the AIM is gatheringup my thoughts. I know it is! I often wished that I was ablonde with blue eyes. It has somehow recognized that wish and my hair islightening. My skin is getting paler. The eyes looking back at me from thereflection are now linen flower blue. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh,my God! What if it picks up on my fantasies? Will it think that those fantasiesare actually what I want?  I need to shut it off! Butthe de-activation pulses are not working! Maybe if I inject myself with apowerful sedative, it will stop AIM's mind reading until it cycles down on itsown and deactivates in twenty hours or so. Injecting now. This willknock me out for at least 72 hours. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619-112-22-74 It's dark. I woke up here afew minutes ago, naked and lying on the soft floor. It took me several momentsto remember what had happened. I had accidentally infected myself withArtificial Intelligence Metal. I took off all my clothes because of how it hadchanged my body. Then I injected myself with a powerful sedative so I would beunconscious until the AIM deactivated itself. I know where I am. I know whyI am naked. I'm in the lab. I'm lying on the carpet naked in my homelaboratory.  Wait a minute! The lab hasconcrete floors. Why am I lying on a carpet? The room has changed. It isstill my home lab... but it isn't. I can see the test station in thebackground, but the lighting is different, and I'm definitely lying on acarpet. I know this carpet! I'mtrying to remember from where. It has a strange pattern on it. It looks like...Tinkerbell Wings! This is the carpet from my bedroom growing up. I don't knowwhat the pattern was supposed to be-- maybe butterflies-- but I always calledit Tinkerbell Wings. Walls are forming around me,shutting off the rest of the lab. There are large images on the walls. Afour-poster bed-- my bed-- is rising from the floor, building itself as itgrows higher. I know where I am! This is myroom as it was when I was a senior in high school. Something is moving me... ormy muscles are rippling in an odd, snake-like way and slithering me up into thebed. In any case, I am literally flowing across the floor and up into the bed.  I am now on my back in themiddle of my bed. I can see something on the bed between my legs. It is myAddam's Family Coin Bank. My parents gave me that bankwhen I was a small kid. I don't know where they got it, but it has a picture ofthe Addam's Family house from the TV show on its front. On the top are picturesof Gomez and Morticia. If you place a coin in a little groove on the lid, itplays the Addam's Family theme song and the dis- embodied hand, Thing, reachesout from the box and snatches the coin back into the bank. When I was a senior in highschool, I used to have this weird fantasy about that hand. After a particularlyunsatisfying evening with one or another inexperienced and bumbling young man,I would lay in bed and fantasize about what should have been and bring myselfoff. Because I wanted to imagine that it wasn't really my hands pleasuring me,sometimes I would set the coin bank on my bed between my legs and imagine thatThing crawled out of his box and came up between my legs to take me to theheights of pleasure. Of course, that never reallyhappened... until now. Morticia and Gomez were laughing on the lid of thestrange bank as it opened and Thing slowly crawled across the sheets between mylegs. My mind wanted to slam my legs together, but instead my body opened widerfor him. The fingers tickled slightlyas they wiggled their way between my thighs and up onto my mound. The handdanced around so that the fingers could, oh so gently, begin to trace theoutline of my cunt. As the fingers moved over my mound, I found myself becomingtotally wet and aroused. I started to bring my ownhand down to my breast, but couldn't. Somehow my hands were now restrained.Black, satin ropes ran from the corner posts of my bed to leather cuffs whichencircled my wrists. I felt a tug at my legs and realized similar ropes werenow pulling at my ankles. This was exactly what I wouldenvision in my 18-year-old fantasies. I know what is coming next... I mean,besides me. Thing's fingers continue their slow circles around my cunt and nowbegin to also nudge my pleasure nub. Thing seems to know exactlywhat I want. His motions are slow and consistent, causing slow, consistentwaves of pleasure to flow from between my legs and travel throughout my body.The hand is now slowly penetrating me. It is so gentle, almost as gentle as I,myself, was back then. Very slowly two, then three fingers push their way intomy sopping pussy. I remember wondering back then what it would feel like to befisted, but never had the guts to push my hand all the way into myself. I shouldn't have thoughtthat! The AIM can read my thoughts! Thing's hand is now pushingdeeper and deeper into me. The cone formed by four fingers and a thumb isstretching me. The sensations are overwhelming. It is stretching metremendously, but it isn't painful like I thought it would be. The pressurepushes against my clit as the hand forces its way deeper and deeper and deeperinto me. And as the hand withdraws it pulls on the inside of my cunt creatingstrange sensations within me. I am getting close. I canfeel my pussy twitching with anticipation. The hand is going deeper, deeper,deeper. It went inside of me! Thing is fisting me! Butthing has no arm, so his hand has disappeared up inside me. I can feel itwiggling its way back out. The fingers are reaching out from between my pussylips and reaching up to massage my now throbbing clit. I close my eyes. The feelingsof pleasure are intense, but my mind cannot handle the image of a handmasturbating me from within my cunt.  Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh,my God! I can't believe how high I am going. The world is exploding around me.Everything is going dark. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619 114 09 21 I don't know how long I wasunconscious-- or asleep-- or both. I feel like it should be the next day, butthere are no windows in the lab area, so I can't see outside. Wait! I amoutside! The sun is shining down on my skin. Am I hallucinating now? I can see the trees in theback yard. There are flashing lights all around, but I really can't tell whatthey are. I can also hear the noise of many large motors. Some of them arelugging down as if doing very hard work, but even so, they sound like they arefar away, or perhaps beyond very thick walls. Now, I am suddenly backinside. But where? This isn't my lab anymore. There is nothing that looksfamiliar. I'm in a bed once again, but it is smaller than the bed that was inmy bedroom at my parent's home, and much smaller than the bed in my currentbedroom. The ceiling seems too close.Wait! That isn't a ceiling. It's the bottom of an upper bunk. I know where Iam. I'm at Green Valley Summer Camp! My parents talked me intobeing a camp counselor the summer before I started college. A friend of mydad's ran the camp and they were desperate for someone over the age of 18 witha good driving record to drive their vans back and forth to and from the creeksand lakes and so forth. I argued that I didn't wantto be a glorified babysitter for three months, but dad promised I would have acabin of my own and wouldn't have responsibility for the little campers. He wasalmost truthful. Karen, the other driver, and I had a cabin to ourselves up onthe hill behind the garages. And there were always regular counselors with thekids when they rode on the busses. What dad didn't tell me isthat there was absolutely no TV reception at the camp; wifi was available onlyin the main lounge; and the closest cellphone signal was four miles outside themain gate. After two months of absoluteboredom, Karen and I were sitting alone in our cabin one rainy night and Iasked, "What did people do with no internet and no cell phones?" Karen laughed and ran herhand down the back of my T-shirt while she whispered in my ear, "They hadsex. Lots and lots and lots of sex." "Are you propositioningme!?" I sputtered out. She smiled back at me andsaid, "No, I'm offering... if you're interested. If not, I'm going for awet hike in the woods with that scrumptious secretary who lives in the roomsbeneath the offices." I declined her offer, butafter she left, I found myself in my bunk fantasizing about what could havebeen if I had not been such a chicken. A voice brought me back frommy remembrances. "Having second thoughts?" Karen asked me. Was this anotherhallucination? Or maybe none of it was hallucination and AIM was actuallyconstructing the people that I imagined. Karen certainly felt real. Ipulled her close to me and said, "No, I'm just not hiding the thoughts Ihad back then." Karen laughed. It was thedeep throaty laugh that I remembered from that summer. As she laughed, I felther hand slip beneath my sweatshirt. Her lips found mine as her hand found theclasp on the back of my bra. Her lips were much softer than a man's. Or moreaccurately, her kiss was much softer. She knew exactly how much pressure to useto create the maximum pleasure. She also knew how to unhook abra one-handed because somewhere between the third and fourth kiss, I felt mybra come loose. I reached beneath Karen's camp T-shirt and found that she wasnot wearing a bra. She never did, despite having been warned about that severaltimes by the camp manager. My hands moved to her breasts and I rubbed the palmsof my hands very lightly against the tips of her nipples. She responded with a moan andslid her tongue very slightly into my mouth. I opened my lips just a little tolet her know that it was OK and she pushed further into me. Her breath blewinto me as I lightly pinched her nipples and she again moaned. I don't remember her removingmy blouse, but when I pulled her T-shirt over her head, her naked breastssuddenly were pressed against my own. I felt her hand on my ass. My shorts wereevidently now gone also. I had fantasized about hermany times since that summer, but have never truly been with a woman. I wasn'tsure what to do. Karen sensed that and said softly, "We have severaloptions. We could take each other high with our hands... or with our mouths...or just by rubbing against each other.' As she finished that lastsentence, she slid over slightly so that her leg was between my legs pressinghard against my cunt. That meant that my leg was also between her legs and shewas slowly humping herself against my thigh while sliding her thigh against mysex. I gasped loudly as shepressed into me and then moaned as her leg moved slowly up and down. I tried toreturn the movement so that Karen would feel what I was feeling but I wasn'table to move against her in the same way she was moving against me. Still, wewere both climbing higher and higher. I could hear her grunting asshe thrust against me. I didn't realize it at first, but I was grunting evenlouder than Karen. Except for the grunting, Karen said nothing as we approachedclimax. I, however, was screaming something. I think it was "God!"but it might have been Karen's name. Then I totally let go as I screamed andshook and went over the top and once again, everything went dark. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619 115 08 17 Again, I have no real idea ofhow much time has passed, but it feels like it is at least the next day. When Ifirst opened my eyes, I was outside, but almost immediately walls again beganto form around me. Everything is wooden. It isdim, almost dark, and there are strange, terrible smells in the air. I try to stand up, butcannot. The floor is moving. Everything is moving. I can hear the creaking andgroaning of wood as the floor rises and falls. I know where I am! I am on aship! Oh, please no! I look aroundat my surroundings. I am definitely between decks on an old wooden sailingvessel of some sort. This can mean only one thing. My pirate fantasy! I was in college when Piratesof the Carribean came out and I had a deep crush on Johnny Depp. I had thisfantasy where... NO! Don't think about it. AIM reads my mind. If I think aboutit, it will do what I think. I have to just let things happen. Maybe it will bedifferent from my weird college coed thoughts. Maybe it won't happen at all. I can hear people coming downthe stairs-- I guess they call them ladders on a ship like this. There seem tobe six or eight men. Since this is my Fantasy, I look hopefully for CaptainJack Sparrow, but my hopes are dashed when Captain Hector Barbossa insteadsteps in front of me and says, "Be careful what ye wish for, Missy. Yejust might get it."Two of the men grab my armsand pull me to a large area in the center of the deck. Wooden grates are beingpulled open above me. It must be night because no light comes into the holdfrom above.  In the dim and flickeringlight of the ship's lanterns, I can see a heavy, old-fashioned hemp ropedescending through the opening. The large rope is fastened to the middle of ashort spar which spins slightly as it hangs from the rope. On each end of thespar hang smaller ropes with leather restraint cuffs attached to them. I don'tremember this from my college fantasy. My wrists are now bound inthe leather cuffs. A second, smaller spar is attached between my ankles so thatmy legs are spread wide. I should never have looked at those porn sites withwomen suspended and stretched by spreader bars. Or at least, I shouldn't havegotten wet while looking at them. One of the scruffier- lookingsailors steps forward and rips open the top of my dress.  Dress!? I hadn't realized Iwas wearing clothing until he began to tear it off me. Soon I was once againnaked and hanging slightly off the ground. Having had clothing even for such abrief time made me notice that much more that it was gone and I was naked infront of these terrible men. My body begins to slowlyrotate and I watch the faces of the six pirates. Their eyes burn with lust...or maybe they just reflect the increasing lust that is probably showing in myown eyes as my body responds to thoughts that used to be hidden deep within me. Captain Barbossa reached upand stopped me from spinning. He leaned in close to me and said in his overlypolite-way of speaking, "Well, Missy, we need a wee bit of informationfrom ye." Picking up a long whip he gave me a very broad smile and added,"... and I think ye will tell us." Wait a minute! This isn't atall like my fantasy! I am supposed to be in the Captain's cabin in bed withJack Sparrow, not strung up naked for all the crew to see. I am supposed to bemaking wild, passionate love, not getting flogged!!!! A sudden, intense painslashed across my back as the whip struck the first time. "That was justto get your attention and encourage ye to answer me properly," he said,again with his overly-effusive smile. "What do you want toknow?" I answered back through gritted teeth. The pain was gone from my backalmost as soon as it had appeared and I could feel the AIM healing the deepwelt the whip had made. Because of the AIM, the whip could not truly damage me,but it could really HURT. Why didn't the AIM stop the pain? " Tis simple,lass," he said with a laugh. "We just need to know exactly how yougot the Artificial Intelligence Metal out of stock without anyone knowing. Weknow you carried it out in your briefcase, but what we don't understand is howyou got your hands on it in the first place." My mind was swirling. Wasthis my own subconscious fear of getting caught creating a living nightmare?Was this a corrupted form of one of my own fantasies? In any case, I somehowknew that I couldn't reveal how I had obtained the AIM. I was afraid that my lifedepended on me not saying how I did it. The whip fell again and againand again. But the AIM had read the desperate plea in my mind. On the secondstrike, the AIM began blocking the pain as well as healing the cuts on my back.With each strike, the pain became less, and I started laughing. Anyone watchingwould have thought that I had lost my mind. After all, here I was hanging in abig naked X in the hold of a pirate ship with a large, brutal man swinging atme with all his strength. I was being brutally flogged, but I was laughinghysterically. "You can whip me all youwant," I finally answered. "The AIM will protect and heal me." "I told you thatwouldn't work, Hector," said a very pleasant voice from behind me."But you always fire the cannons before you're in range." The person speaking slowlywalked around in front of me. Captain Jack had made his appearance at last. Hereached up with one hand and softly caressed my breast. "What my mutinousfirst mate doesn't realize," he said with a smile, "is that the magicmetal will protect you from pain because that is what it is designed to do.Pain means something is broken, and AIM fixes things that are broken." He rolled my nipple slowlybetween his fingers and it stiffened slightly to his touch. "But pleasuremeans things are working properly. AIM will not protect you from pleasure... nomatter how intense that pleasure becomes." Captain Jack Sparrow's smileseemed much more genuine, but at the same time, much more frightening thanBarbossa's obviously false one. He leaned forward and gently pulled my nipplebetween his lips. At first he was kissing it, but soon he was softly sucklingas moans began to escape from my mouth. His fingers were now moving slowly andsoftly up and down my entire body. For a moment he stood alongside me with onehand running down my front and the other running down my back. As his hands reached mymiddle, he brought them together between my legs so that his fingertips touchedbeneath me. He then lifted slightly with both hands so that the hand in frontwas pressing against my cunt and the hand in back was pressing against myrosebud. After a moment of pressure, the fingers continued their gentle journeydown my right leg. When he reached my foot, hereversed his path and returned to my crotch where he once again pressed againstmy cunt and ass before going down my left leg. As he reached my left foot, hishands continued downward and off my body. I was breathing very deeplyas he lightly kissed my lips and softly said, "Are you ready to tell uswhat we need to know?"I tried to answer,"No!" But it came out as "Nooooooooooooooooooooooo," as hishand returned to my cunt and his fingers began to lightly swirl around my clit. "You like that, don'tyou?" he asked. My only answer was anothermoan as his hands continued to move on my body. For just an instant I thoughtto myself that a couple more sets of hands would feel even better. I immediately regretted thatthought as four more hands joined Jack's on my body. I looked around to see whothe new people were and looked into the eyes of two more Jack Sparrows. "You get used to thatafter a while," the first Captain Sparrow said with a musical laugh,"especially if you've ever been to the locker." Six hands were roaming allover my body. Two of the Jack Sparrows were in front of me now, their mouthsslowly engulfing my nipples. My moans were becoming louder and I was startingto buck and swing as I hung from the spar. I wondered where the thirdJack had gone, and I thought to myself, "I know where I want him tobe." "Don't add to thefantasy!" I screamed aloud to myself, but it was too late. The third Jackwas now kneeling in front of me with his face pressed against my glisteningcunt. My body was thrashing and wavingin my restraints. My arms were held outstretched by the restraints from which Ihung and my legs were similarly outstretched by the restraints attached to thelower spar. Held in a taut X, all I was able to do was twist and buck like aloose sail in the wind. I know I have orgasmed atleast twice, but I am still being driven higher and higher. "You can end all this,Missy," said Barbossa. "All ye have to do is tell us how ye stole theAIM." I tried to look him in theeye, but my body was too far into the orgasms to allow any control. "Whywould I want to stop this?" I asked in a very shaky voice before screamingout in another orgasm. And then another. And then another. Each orgasm was moreintense than the one before. "AIM makes thingsperfect," Barbossa answered with his evil sounding laugh. "Do yethink ye can survive a perfect orgasm?" I tried to answer, but afourth Captain Jack joined the trio. This one was naked. His manhood was juttingupward in front of him as he stepped between my legs. He made a motion with oneof his hands, and the rope was lowered slightly so that I settled down ontothat magnificent prick. He began thrusting inside of me. Almost immediately, mycunt once again spasmed and my body thrashed and bucked against his thrusts. Iscreamed out in the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced and everythingwent dark. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619 116 14 34 When I awoke, I was onceagain outside. This time, I tried to concentrate on what was going on aroundme. The sun was high in the sky. I was definitely at my house... or where myhouse used to be. I could dimly see the houses across the street. I couldalmost make out the trees in my neighbors' back yards. For some reason thelarge maple tree next to my house seemed to have disappeared. Concentrating as hard as Icould on what I thought I was seeing, I could make out deep trenches thatseemed to be dug in the ground around where my house used to sit. There seemedto be many very large pieces of construction equipment nearby. Hundreds offlashing lights reflected off the enclosure in which I was lying. A loud voice vibrated theplastic. "Judith, can you hear me?" it said. "If you can, nodyour head." I nodded my head and stoodup. I was totally naked. There was nothing there except me and the plasticwhich surrounded me. "Do you know where youare?" the voice asked. I shook my head no.  "We have contained thecontamination," the voice explained. "You are in a containmentvessel." I looked at the plasticaround me. Except for the fact that it was many, many times larger, it wasexactly the same as the observation cage in which I had tested the rodent. Fearflooded my mind as I remembered what happened to that rat. Was I to beincinerated as it had been to contain a biohazard? No sooner had I thought thatthan a solid metal cube surrounded me. "No, no, no," Iscreamed out, but it was too late. I was now trapped within whatever my mind--and the AIM-- had formed.  "What have I gottenmyself into?" I wailed. "I should never have done this." No sooner had I said thatthan the room around me began changing. Again everything was wooden, but thistime it was more modern. A strangely-shaped wooden bench filled the center ofthe room. My body did that strange rippling thing with my muscles and I flowedacross the floor and up onto the bench. As soon as I was in place,leather restraints formed to hold me in place. I wish I didn't know what thisbench is, but I have seen it many times on some of the websites I visit. It isa spanking bench.A rough voice calls my name,"Judith," it said, "do you know why you are beingpunished?" I want to say "No!"but the truth is I know why I am being punished. I stole ArtificialIntelligence Metal from the government facility where I work. I had hoped toprove that it could be used to heal people and get rich producing and sellingit for medical purposes. Instead, all I had done was to create this constantlychanging hell in which I was trapped. "Yes," I sobbedout. "How many strokes shouldyou receive as punishment?" the voice asked. "One hundredeighty," I replied. "That is ten for each gram of AIM that Istole." I don't know why I said that.Perhaps I thought that if I was sufficiently punished I might escape thispurgatory. The man walked around infront of me. I was surprised that he looked artificial. Then I recognized him.This was the man in the dungeon on that CGI dungeon site that I sometimesvisited. "Now we know how muchyou took," he said. "All you need to do for all of this to stop is totell us how you gathered together 18 grams of AIM without anybody knowing... oreven suspecting. The last person who tried to steal AIM got caught when heattempted to misdirect a kit... and that is only 4.5 grams." Then he started whipping me.I concentrated as hard as I could for the AIM to both heal me and take away thepain. Maybe I overdid it, because on about the fourth strike of the whip, itstarted feeling good... really good. I don't know how many timeshe brought that terrible whip down on my back and ass. I do know that each timehe struck I gasped, not in pain, but in pleasure. I am now screaming,"More! More! More!" It seems to anger him and he swings higher andputs more muscle behind each strike. I am starting to feel pain along with thepleasure. It is a strange mixture of sensations that is driving me higher thaneven my previous fantasies. I can feel it boiling fromdeep within me. I know it will be tremendous, but I want it. I can hearBarbossa's warning that I would not survive a perfect orgasm. I don't care. Iwant it. I want it.I ... "Aieeeeeee" Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619 116 19 08 I must have passed out for ashort while. He is still whipping me and my body is still responding withpleasure. "This can go on forever," said the artificial man."Just tell us how you stole the AIM."I opened my mouth to speak,but instead screamed out once again as another orgasm overwhelmed me. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619 117 01 14 I passed out again. I don'tknow for how long. "AIM can't protect you from pleasure," the CGI mansaid with a sinister laugh. "This WILL eventually destroy you."  He swung the whip upwards sothat it struck between my legs. Evidently that took both me and the AIM bysurprise because blinding pain washed over me only to be replaced almostimmediately by pleasure that I thought I could never experience. "He is right." Iadmitted to myself. "I can't survive this forever. I need to tellthem." "4.54 grams out, 4.45grams back in," I shout out. "The receipts say 4.5 grams eitherway." The artificial man's voicebecame very soft, almost caring. "This is for your pleasure only,now." he crooned. "Relax. Let it overwhelm you. You will find sleepin the darkness. And when you awake this will be over."  He swung again, softly thistime. The result when the whip hit my cunt was waves of extreme pleasure... anddarkness overwhelming me. Judith Conroy Autolog Entry3619 119 09 43 I woke up slowly. I knew thatI had been asleep, but wasn't sure for how long. Waking up is different fromregaining consciousness, so I am pretty sure that I had been asleep. Besides, Ifelt rested. I look around. I am onceagain outside, but the plastic observation cage seems to have been moved out tothe road and is slightly higher off the ground. I feel like at least a day haspassed. Things seem slightly clearer than before. I can see vehicles andconstruction equipment and people walking around in various types of protectionsuits. I can hear a voice that Iseem to recognize. It is calling to me. "Judith," it says,"concentrate on my voice. Try to block everything but my voice from yourmind." Something like a drum isbeating slowly. "Listen to the beat of the drum," the voicecontinues. "It and my voice are all you should think about. If you canconcentrate on my voice and the beat of the drum you can remain incontrol." I try to do what he says. Thebeat of the drum is very comforting. Things are coming into focus. I can nowclearly see that I am in a huge plastic observation cage sitting on a flatbedtruck in front of where my house used to be. The house and most of my yard isgone. There is nothing there but a huge hole in the ground. My neighbors'houses are still there, but appear to be weirdly warped and damaged. Above me Ican see small newsvid fliers as well as various military airships. Someone steps up to my cage.I can see through the visor of his protection suit that it is Doctor Hendricks,the supervisor of my lab. "Can you hear me, Judith?" he asks. I nod my head yes. "You did something verydangerous," he says. "We were very lucky to be able to contain thecontamination." He paused and paced in frontof the cage for a few moments. "No one has ever activated such a largeamount of AIM into a living being before," he said. It almost sounded likehe was genuinely concerned... or perhaps impressed. "We have read yourautologs. We understand you had good intentions, but..." His voice fadedaway into silence. "Can you de-activateit?" I asked. I could feel tears flowing from my eyes. The long pause and the lookon his face told me more than any words he might have said. "You and itare one," he finally answered. "We've tested a couple more rats. Theonly way to deactivate the AIM is to kill the host." "So I'm going to beincinerated," I said glumly. "No," he answeredwith a crooked smile. "You are safe from the fire. You have become much,much too valuable to incinerate. You are the only person in the world who hasever survived being merged with AIM. It has happened a couple times before inaccidents, but the process was always fatal." He looked intently at me andpursed his lips as he formed his next words. "We need to find out why youare still alive," he said slowly. "And we need to find how to controlit." He sounded almost excited ashe asked "Do you realize what a self-repairing soldier that can modify hisor her surroundings would be worth?" "So I am going to be anexperiment at the facility?" I said. "That's not a whole lot betterthan being incinerated." "We have been able towatch everything," he replied. I felt myself growing veryred as I thought about what "everything" must have looked like. His eyes continued to borethrough me as he said in his professional, matter- of-fact tone, "I knowthat having your innermost sexual fantasies played out in public is veryembarrassing. But those sexual fantasies seem to be an important part of howyou have survived this." He coughed slightly andadded, "We also noticed that questions we tried to ask you changed yourfantasies-- sometimes quite dramatically. So, there is evidently some way tocontrol this... eventually." It had been a very long pause before he said"eventually." He suddenly looked away,perhaps because he had just admitted that they couldn't really help me, orperhaps it was because he was afraid to admit that he somehow had projectedsome of his own fantasies into the AIM. I had never noticed before that he doesbear an uncanny resemblance to Captain Barbossa. "Once we are back at thefacility," he continued, "we will... ah... encourage you to go backinto your fantasies and then see how we can guide what happens. Perhaps someday we can even figure out how to control what happens." He shrugged."We may even discover how we can de-activate." "I guess that is betterthan being incinerated," I replied. He just smiled in response. "It would probably bebest if we allowed you to fade out while we transport you," he said as heglanced over at several workers standing nearby. After a quick flash of anothersmile that I guess he intended to be reassuring, he added, "We willprotect you from the eyes of the public en route." He made a motion with hishands and a large tarp was pulled up over the observation cage. The only soundis now the sound of straps being pulled tight over the covered cage. His voiceis gone. The beat of the drums is fading away. The plastic cage is alsostarting to fade.  "So what will itbe?" I ask myself aloud. As if in answer, stonecolumns began to rise out of the plastic. Torches appear on the stone wallsthat now surrounded me. "Ah, yes," I saywith a smile of my own. "It looks like I'm going to be visiting the King'sDungeon."  = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = END OF STORY = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
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   Metamorphosis

   by The Technician



   Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Machine / Lesbian / Female Masturbation / Spanking /
Flogging



   = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =



   AI Metal changes a woman's body and life - a Kafkaesque story.



   Franz Kafka had a great influence on writing and literature in the 20th
century.  Even today, strange and/or creepy stories are called Kafkaesque.
In his novella "Die Verwandlung" (usually translated into English as
"Metamorphosis") a man slowly turns into a cockroach.



   In my version of Metamorphosis, I go one up on Kafka.  Not only does a
woman totally change, her entire world changes around her.  More than that,
she becomes something much, much more interesting than a cockroach.



   The story is told in the form of "Autolog" entries.  In the future,
Autolog entries have replaced blogging, tweeting, and other forms of
posting as a person's thoughts are automatically recorded for all to see.



   I don't really like this story, but it is a writer's equivalent of an
"ear worm" that keeps playing in my head.  The only way to get rid of an
"ear worm" is to sing the stupid song.  The only way to get rid of a
"writer's worm" is to finish the story and post it...  so I did.



   In one of my English courses in college most of the class became almost
orgasmic about "Metamorphosis".  I didn't like it.  The professor asked
each of us to say why we thought Kafka wrote it.  I was one of the last to
answer and I said, "He needed the money."



   According to the professor, I was right.  Kafka always said that he
hated "Metamorphosis" but wouldn't say why.  He was asked in a newspaper
interview shortly before his death in 1924 if he had ever written anything
just for the money.  His answer, "Die Verwandlung." Many think that it is
his greatest work.



   = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =



   WARNING!  All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18
ONLY.  Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content.  All
people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental.  Actions, situations, and responses
are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.



   If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference
between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province,
nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in
these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that
exists in the twenty-first century.

   Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if
acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included
with the article.  This story is copyright (c) 2015 by The Technician (
Technician666@Gmail.Com.  )



   Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story
for personal, non-commercial use.  Production of multiple copies of this
story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.



   = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

   Published eBooks by Wayne Mitchell (The Technician

   Senior Project http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=7753

   Handcuff Island http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8160

   I, Masochist http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8263



   = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

   * * * * * * * * * * * *



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619-107-09- 27



   I did it!  I smuggled AIM out of the facility.  No one is supposed to be
able to get their hands on Artificial Intelligence Metal, but I did it!  I
have been planning this for a long, long time.  And my plan worked!!!



   My first plan was going to be misdirecting an emergency repair kit to a
fictitious damaged space craft to replace one used on a mission.  It was a
good plan, but there are too many cross-checks meant to guarantee that
every gram of AIM is accounted for.  Misdirecting a kit would have been no
problem.  I send out replacement kits all the time, and as long as a
shipment receipt was included to close the case file, no one would notice.
But I knew that any kit issued is automatically cross-referenced against
damage reports and vice versa.  I would have also had to create a false
battle or accidental damage report in the system.  That would have involved
getting into military planning records that I can't access with my current
clearances.



   Besides, there aren't that many battles or accidents.  I would be able
to get by with something like that only once, and one kit wouldn't have
enough Artificial Intelligence Metal for what I wanted to do.  There isn't
all that much AIM in a repair kit because you don't need a lot of AIM to
repair a damaged spacecraft, regardless of how big it is or how badly it is
damaged.



   That's the beauty of AIM.  Once you put it in place and activate it, AIM
merges itself with the metals already present in the craft and it changes
the characteristics of that metal.  For a short while, almost all metal in
the whole ship can become quasi-sentient and self- repairing.  So, all you
really need is a little bit to start the process.



   I need more because I am not going to use AIM on a space craft.  I am
going to use it on a human body-- eventually.  For now, I need to run a
series of tests on lower life forms to prove that AIM can be used to repair
or modify a living organism.  Once I prove my theories, I can get investors
and then legally obtain and market AIM for medical uses.  A short while
after that I will be rich beyond even my wildest dreams.



   But first I have to prove that AIM will work for medical purposes, and
the tests needed to prove that will take at least three times more AIM than
is in just one kit.  What I smuggled out of the facility today was the
equivalent of four kits.  I would never have been able to misdirect four
kits.



   Actually, getting the AIM out of the facility once I had acquired it was
the easiest part.  AIM isn't explosive or poisonous, it won't trigger the
automatic vapor sensors.  The scanners we have to pass through each day
can't penetrate the thick metal of our security briefcases, so we have to
open them each morning and evening for visual inspection by the guards. 
The guards are so used to quickly shuffling through layers and layers of
papers checking for contraband, that they didn't notice that the inside of
my briefcase, itself, was slightly brighter than usual.  That's because
taped to the inside was a thin slab of AIM protected by an unmarked
transport stability pack.



   Transport stability packs are normally used to safely contain bulk
blocks of AIM before they are broken up into the 4.5 gram nuggets used in
the repair kits.  The stability packs also help prevent the AIM from being
accidentally activated.  Proper activation is essential to AIM.  The amount
needed to "seed" a repair is only 4 grams, but to allow for the possibility
that a portion of the nugget might not properly activate, all repair kits
are stocked with exactly 4.5 grams of AIM.



   The exactness of that measurement is what gave me the opening I needed
to accumulate my needed amount of AIM.  Getting it was tedious, but very
easy.  We have to sign out any AIM from Central Stores when we do
experiments or tests in the lab.  It is signed back in again when we return
it to Central Stores.  I took advantage of the fact that the scales at
Central Stores measure to one one-hundredth of a gram, but the property
ticket that it prints rounds to the nearest tenth.



   We have been dividing and certifying AIM nuggets for repair kits for the
past three months.  Each time I started on a new kit, I would go to Central
Stores and carve off a nugget that was exactly 4.54 grams.  With an
electronic scalpel, that isn't as hard to do as it sounds.  The property
ticket would read 4.5 grams.  When I got it down to my lab, I would
carefully shave .09 grams off the nugget before I began my tests.  The
nugget, which now weighed 4.45 grams would be within spec for the repair
kits, and the property ticket when I turned it back in would read 4.5
grams.



   After I had tested 200 nuggets, I had 18 grams of AIM hidden in my work
area.  Just to be sure that I was not discovered in a random log audit, I
instructed my Autolog Thought Recorder to erase any entries which dealt
with shaving the nuggets or smuggling materials out of the labs or using
AIM for medical purposes.  I then set up this special log on a private
portion of my storage area and gave detailed and explicit instructions to
my Autolog profile to log everything that had to do with my special
experiments to this log file...  and ONLY this log file.



   The Autolog doesn't record everything, so this record will be somewhat
incomplete.  But it does summarize or make notes of anything which I
consider be important.  I very rarely have to edit my Autologs.  They are
almost as if I had dictated them later for the record.  In case something
goes wrong, I have set this log to become public if I no longer make
entries to it for a period of 100 days.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619- 109-13-51



   Today is a rest day and I have taken the next two weeks as vacation so I
will have time to conduct my experiments.  If everything goes as planned, I
may never have to return to work at the facility.



   I am starting with a small rodent.  I have intentionally broken one of
its forearms-- I used anesthetic-- and am taping a very small amount of AIM
to his now- useless paw.  When I pulse the activator, the AIM should become
active and merge with his flesh and bone.  It will learn of the break and
repair it.  Then, if it follows design criteria, it should shut itself down
so that it is once again safe to handle.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619- 110-01-03



   Something is wrong!



   AIM almost instantly repaired the rat's broken bone, but it didn't
deactivate as programmed.  It continued to modify the rat's body.  It's
teeth began to grow at a tremendous rate and it began attacking the plastic
sides of the observation cage.  Luckily I had planned for all contingencies
and had conducted the experiment in a military- grade biological test
station.



   I immediately triggered the primary containment protocol.  Gas filled
the test station-- and the observation cage.  This should have quickly
euthanized the rodent, but it had no effect and the super rat continued to
grow larger and gnaw at the plastic of the cage.  When it chewed through
the small observation cage I was forced to resort to triggering the
emergency biological hazard containment response.  The rat, its cage, and
everything within the test station was instantly incinerated.



   When the smoke cleared, there was nothing in the test area except ash
and a very small nugget of Artificial Intelligence Metal.  I brushed the
ash into the waste opening and sealed the receptacle.  The AIM nugget I put
into a small containment case so I could transfer it back to the main block
later today.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619-110-12-42



   Something went terribly, terribly wrong when I picked up the block of
AIM from which I had carved the small nugget to test on the rodent.  It was
still partially wrapped in the transport stability film which kept it
stable and concealed it while I smuggled it out of the lab.  But as I
lifted the block, I felt it quiver.  It was active!



   My homemade activation device was evidently more powerful than what we
use at the lab.  Or, perhaps, my design allowed for a lot more radiation
leakage into the surrounding area.  Perhaps it has something to do with my
changing the frequency of the pulse so it would activate the AIM for living
tissue rather than standard space metals.  In any case, when I pulsed the
small nugget, the pulse must have activated the entire block.  Maybe it
would have made a difference if the stability pack had been resealed, but
even open, the bulk block was farther away from the test bench than it
would have been at the facility.  None of that makes any difference,
though. The reality was that, however and whyever it occurred, the main
block was active.



   I had safely handled accidentally activated AIM before, but the slight
movement startled me, causing me to almost drop the block.  When I grabbed
at it to keep it from falling, my hand came in contact with the unshielded
AIM-- all 18 grams of it.  The Artificial Intelligence Metal immediately
attached to my hand and merged into my body.  I tried to reach for the
activator to send a deactivation pulse, but my arms refused to move.



   The sensations are phenomenal.  I can feel my body changing...  no
healing.  My left ankle, which I broke many years ago and has bothered me
ever sense, is suddenly like new.



   Something is wrong with my vision.  My vision is blurry.



   I took out my contact lenses and my vision is perfectly clear.  I've
worn glasses since I was nine, but my vision is now perfect.



   Every place in my body that I have ever injured is restoring itself to
like new.  Even the little scar on my knee is gone.



   Oh my God!  My breasts are starting to grow.  I have always wanted
larger tits, but have always thought that even the best implants look
artificial.



   I have to take off my bra.  It's too tight.  My jeans are also getting
tight.  The waistband is cutting me in half because my flat butt is no
longer flat.  My body now curves rather than going straight down from my
shoulders to my toes.



   I had to take everything off.  I am now staring at the changes in my
body in my reflection on the front of the test chamber.  I was a 34B.  Now
I am a 36C plus.  They're not udders, but they look really good on me.  My
waist is smaller, but my hips are slightly larger.  My thighs have a slight
curve to them on the outside, as do my calves.  I look like what I always
envisioned as a perfect me.



   As I turn, I can see that my ass is nicely rounded out also.  I was
always teased about my slightly flat butt, but now it, too, is perfect.



   One surprise is that all hair from the neck down seems to be
disappearing.  That isn't really healing, but I have always hated the hairy
thatch between my legs that was way too dark, way too thick, and way too
bushy.  If I didn't keep it trimmed, it grew out of my panties within a
month or two.  If I tried to shave it, I got razor burns and ingrown nubs.
My one attempt at waxing was a painful disaster.  Now my pussy is
beautifully smooth, and so are my legs and arms and underarms.

   My teeth are repairing themselves.  All of my fillings are gone.  The
chipped tooth from where I fell in eighth grade has even filled itself back
in.



   I turn slowly in front of the mirror-like front of the test station.  My
body is PERFECT!



   But it isn't stopping.  I can feel it talking to my brain.  I know that
sounds weird, but the AIM is gathering up my thoughts.  I know it is!



   I often wished that I was a blonde with blue eyes.  It has somehow
recognized that wish and my hair is lightening.  My skin is getting paler.
The eyes looking back at me from the reflection are now linen flower blue.



   Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!  What if it picks up on my
fantasies?  Will it think that those fantasies are actually what I want?



   I need to shut it off!  But the de-activation pulses are not working! 
Maybe if I inject myself with a powerful sedative, it will stop AIM's mind
reading until it cycles down on its own and deactivates in twenty hours or
so.



   Injecting now.  This will knock me out for at least 72 hours.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619-112-22-74



   It's dark.  I woke up here a few minutes ago, naked and lying on the
soft floor.  It took me several moments to remember what had happened.  I
had accidentally infected myself with Artificial Intelligence Metal.  I
took off all my clothes because of how it had changed my body.  Then I
injected myself with a powerful sedative so I would be unconscious until
the AIM deactivated itself.



   I know where I am.  I know why I am naked.  I'm in the lab.  I'm lying
on the carpet naked in my home laboratory.



   Wait a minute!  The lab has concrete floors.  Why am I lying on a
carpet?



   The room has changed.  It is still my home lab...  but it isn't.  I can
see the test station in the background, but the lighting is different, and
I'm definitely lying on a carpet.



   I know this carpet!  I'm trying to remember from where.  It has a
strange pattern on it.  It looks like...  Tinkerbell Wings!  This is the
carpet from my bedroom growing up.  I don't know what the pattern was
supposed to be-- maybe butterflies-- but I always called it Tinkerbell
Wings.



   Walls are forming around me, shutting off the rest of the lab.  There
are large images on the walls.  A four-poster bed-- my bed-- is rising from
the floor, building itself as it grows higher.



   I know where I am!  This is my room as it was when I was a senior in
high school.

   Something is moving me...  or my muscles are rippling in an odd,
snake-like way and slithering me up into the bed.  In any case, I am
literally flowing across the floor and up into the bed.



   I am now on my back in the middle of my bed.  I can see something on the
bed between my legs.  It is my Addam's Family Coin Bank.



   My parents gave me that bank when I was a small kid.  I don't know where
they got it, but it has a picture of the Addam's Family house from the TV
show on its front.  On the top are pictures of Gomez and Morticia.  If you
place a coin in a little groove on the lid, it plays the Addam's Family
theme song and the dis- embodied hand, Thing, reaches out from the box and
snatches the coin back into the bank.



   When I was a senior in high school, I used to have this weird fantasy
about that hand.  After a particularly unsatisfying evening with one or
another inexperienced and bumbling young man, I would lay in bed and
fantasize about what should have been and bring myself off.  Because I
wanted to imagine that it wasn't really my hands pleasuring me, sometimes I
would set the coin bank on my bed between my legs and imagine that Thing
crawled out of his box and came up between my legs to take me to the
heights of pleasure.



   Of course, that never really happened...  until now.  Morticia and Gomez
were laughing on the lid of the strange bank as it opened and Thing slowly
crawled across the sheets between my legs.  My mind wanted to slam my legs
together, but instead my body opened wider for him.



   The fingers tickled slightly as they wiggled their way between my thighs
and up onto my mound.  The hand danced around so that the fingers could, oh
so gently, begin to trace the outline of my cunt.  As the fingers moved
over my mound, I found myself becoming totally wet and aroused.



   I started to bring my own hand down to my breast, but couldn't.  Somehow
my hands were now restrained.  Black, satin ropes ran from the corner posts
of my bed to leather cuffs which encircled my wrists.  I felt a tug at my
legs and realized similar ropes were now pulling at my ankles.



   This was exactly what I would envision in my 18-year-old fantasies.  I
know what is coming next...  I mean, besides me.  Thing's fingers continue
their slow circles around my cunt and now begin to also nudge my pleasure
nub.



   Thing seems to know exactly what I want.  His motions are slow and
consistent, causing slow, consistent waves of pleasure to flow from between
my legs and travel throughout my body.  The hand is now slowly penetrating
me.  It is so gentle, almost as gentle as I, myself, was back then.  Very
slowly two, then three fingers push their way into my sopping pussy.  I
remember wondering back then what it would feel like to be fisted, but
never had the guts to push my hand all the way into myself.



   I shouldn't have thought that!  The AIM can read my thoughts!



   Thing's hand is now pushing deeper and deeper into me.  The cone formed
by four fingers and a thumb is stretching me.  The sensations are
overwhelming.  It is stretching me tremendously, but it isn't painful like
I thought it would be.  The pressure pushes against my clit as the hand
forces its way deeper and deeper and deeper into me.  And as the hand
withdraws it pulls on the inside of my cunt creating strange sensations
within me.



   I am getting close.  I can feel my pussy twitching with anticipation. 
The hand is going deeper, deeper, deeper.



   It went inside of me!



   Thing is fisting me!  But thing has no arm, so his hand has disappeared
up inside me.  I can feel it wiggling its way back out.  The fingers are
reaching out from between my pussy lips and reaching up to massage my now
throbbing clit.  I close my eyes.  The feelings of pleasure are intense,
but my mind cannot handle the image of a hand masturbating me from within
my cunt.



   Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!  I can't believe how high I am
going.  The world is exploding around me.  Everything is going dark.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619 114 09 21



   I don't know how long I was unconscious-- or asleep-- or both.  I feel
like it should be the next day, but there are no windows in the lab area,
so I can't see outside.  Wait!  I am outside!  The sun is shining down on
my skin.  Am I hallucinating now?



   I can see the trees in the back yard.  There are flashing lights all
around, but I really can't tell what they are.  I can also hear the noise
of many large motors.  Some of them are lugging down as if doing very hard
work, but even so, they sound like they are far away, or perhaps beyond
very thick walls.



   Now, I am suddenly back inside.  But where?  This isn't my lab anymore.
There is nothing that looks familiar.  I'm in a bed once again, but it is
smaller than the bed that was in my bedroom at my parent's home, and much
smaller than the bed in my current bedroom.



   The ceiling seems too close.  Wait!  That isn't a ceiling.  It's the
bottom of an upper bunk.  I know where I am.  I'm at Green Valley Summer
Camp!



   My parents talked me into being a camp counselor the summer before I
started college.  A friend of my dad's ran the camp and they were desperate
for someone over the age of 18 with a good driving record to drive their
vans back and forth to and from the creeks and lakes and so forth.



   I argued that I didn't want to be a glorified babysitter for three
months, but dad promised I would have a cabin of my own and wouldn't have
responsibility for the little campers.  He was almost truthful.  Karen, the
other driver, and I had a cabin to ourselves up on the hill behind the
garages.  And there were always regular counselors with the kids when they
rode on the busses.



   What dad didn't tell me is that there was absolutely no TV reception at
the camp; wifi was available only in the main lounge; and the closest
cellphone signal was four miles outside the main gate.



   After two months of absolute boredom, Karen and I were sitting alone in
our cabin one rainy night and I asked, "What did people do with no internet
and no cell phones?"



   Karen laughed and ran her hand down the back of my T-shirt while she
whispered in my ear, "They had sex.  Lots and lots and lots of sex."



   "Are you propositioning me!?" I sputtered out.



   She smiled back at me and said, "No, I'm offering...  if you're
interested.  If not, I'm going for a wet hike in the woods with that
scrumptious secretary who lives in the rooms beneath the offices."



   I declined her offer, but after she left, I found myself in my bunk
fantasizing about what could have been if I had not been such a chicken.



   A voice brought me back from my remembrances.  "Having second thoughts?"
Karen asked me.



   Was this another hallucination?  Or maybe none of it was hallucination
and AIM was actually constructing the people that I imagined.



   Karen certainly felt real.  I pulled her close to me and said, "No, I'm
just not hiding the thoughts I had back then."



   Karen laughed.  It was the deep throaty laugh that I remembered from
that summer.  As she laughed, I felt her hand slip beneath my sweatshirt.
Her lips found mine as her hand found the clasp on the back of my bra.  Her
lips were much softer than a man's.  Or more accurately, her kiss was much
softer.  She knew exactly how much pressure to use to create the maximum
pleasure.



   She also knew how to unhook a bra one-handed because somewhere between
the third and fourth kiss, I felt my bra come loose.  I reached beneath
Karen's camp T-shirt and found that she was not wearing a bra.  She never
did, despite having been warned about that several times by the camp
manager.  My hands moved to her breasts and I rubbed the palms of my hands
very lightly against the tips of her nipples.



   She responded with a moan and slid her tongue very slightly into my
mouth.  I opened my lips just a little to let her know that it was OK and
she pushed further into me.  Her breath blew into me as I lightly pinched
her nipples and she again moaned.



   I don't remember her removing my blouse, but when I pulled her T-shirt
over her head, her naked breasts suddenly were pressed against my own.  I
felt her hand on my ass.  My shorts were evidently now gone also.



   I had fantasized about her many times since that summer, but have never
truly been with a woman.  I wasn't sure what to do.  Karen sensed that and
said softly, "We have several options.  We could take each other high with
our hands...  or with our mouths...  or just by rubbing against each
other.'



   As she finished that last sentence, she slid over slightly so that her
leg was between my legs pressing hard against my cunt.  That meant that my
leg was also between her legs and she was slowly humping herself against my
thigh while sliding her thigh against my sex.



   I gasped loudly as she pressed into me and then moaned as her leg moved
slowly up and down.  I tried to return the movement so that Karen would
feel what I was feeling but I wasn't able to move against her in the same
way she was moving against me.  Still, we were both climbing higher and
higher.



   I could hear her grunting as she thrust against me.  I didn't realize it
at first, but I was grunting even louder than Karen.  Except for the
grunting, Karen said nothing as we approached climax.  I, however, was
screaming something.  I think it was "God!" but it might have been Karen's
name.  Then I totally let go as I screamed and shook and went over the top
and once again, everything went dark.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619 115 08 17



   Again, I have no real idea of how much time has passed, but it feels
like it is at least the next day.  When I first opened my eyes, I was
outside, but almost immediately walls again began to form around me.



   Everything is wooden.  It is dim, almost dark, and there are strange,
terrible smells in the air.



   I try to stand up, but cannot.  The floor is moving.  Everything is
moving.  I can hear the creaking and groaning of wood as the floor rises
and falls.



   I know where I am!  I am on a ship!



   Oh, please no!  I look around at my surroundings.  I am definitely
between decks on an old wooden sailing vessel of some sort.  This can mean
only one thing.  My pirate fantasy!



   I was in college when Pirates of the Carribean came out and I had a deep
crush on Johnny Depp.  I had this fantasy where...  NO!  Don't think about
it.  AIM reads my mind.  If I think about it, it will do what I think.  I
have to just let things happen.  Maybe it will be different from my weird
college coed thoughts.  Maybe it won't happen at all.



   I can hear people coming down the stairs-- I guess they call them
ladders on a ship like this.  There seem to be six or eight men.  Since
this is my Fantasy, I look hopefully for Captain Jack Sparrow, but my hopes
are dashed when Captain Hector Barbossa instead steps in front of me and
says, "Be careful what ye wish for, Missy.  Ye just might get it."

   Two of the men grab my arms and pull me to a large area in the center of
the deck.  Wooden grates are being pulled open above me.  It must be night
because no light comes into the hold from above.



   In the dim and flickering light of the ship's lanterns, I can see a
heavy, old-fashioned hemp rope descending through the opening.  The large
rope is fastened to the middle of a short spar which spins slightly as it
hangs from the rope.  On each end of the spar hang smaller ropes with
leather restraint cuffs attached to them.  I don't remember this from my
college fantasy.



   My wrists are now bound in the leather cuffs.  A second, smaller spar is
attached between my ankles so that my legs are spread wide.  I should never
have looked at those porn sites with women suspended and stretched by
spreader bars.  Or at least, I shouldn't have gotten wet while looking at
them.



   One of the scruffier- looking sailors steps forward and rips open the
top of my dress.



   Dress!?  I hadn't realized I was wearing clothing until he began to tear
it off me.  Soon I was once again naked and hanging slightly off the
ground. Having had clothing even for such a brief time made me notice that
much more that it was gone and I was naked in front of these terrible men.



   My body begins to slowly rotate and I watch the faces of the six
pirates. Their eyes burn with lust...  or maybe they just reflect the
increasing lust that is probably showing in my own eyes as my body responds
to thoughts that used to be hidden deep within me.



   Captain Barbossa reached up and stopped me from spinning.  He leaned in
close to me and said in his overly polite-way of speaking, "Well, Missy, we
need a wee bit of information from ye." Picking up a long whip he gave me a
very broad smile and added, "...  and I think ye will tell us."



   Wait a minute!  This isn't at all like my fantasy!  I am supposed to be
in the Captain's cabin in bed with Jack Sparrow, not strung up naked for
all the crew to see.  I am supposed to be making wild, passionate love, not
getting flogged!!!!



   A sudden, intense pain slashed across my back as the whip struck the
first time.  "That was just to get your attention and encourage ye to
answer me properly," he said, again with his overly-effusive smile.



   "What do you want to know?" I answered back through gritted teeth.  The
pain was gone from my back almost as soon as it had appeared and I could
feel the AIM healing the deep welt the whip had made.  Because of the AIM,
the whip could not truly damage me, but it could really HURT.  Why didn't
the AIM stop the pain?



   " Tis simple, lass," he said with a laugh.  "We just need to know
exactly how you got the Artificial Intelligence Metal out of stock without
anyone knowing.  We know you carried it out in your briefcase, but what we
don't understand is how you got your hands on it in the first place."



   My mind was swirling.  Was this my own subconscious fear of getting
caught creating a living nightmare?  Was this a corrupted form of one of my
own fantasies?  In any case, I somehow knew that I couldn't reveal how I
had obtained the AIM.  I was afraid that my life depended on me not saying
how I did it.



   The whip fell again and again and again.  But the AIM had read the
desperate plea in my mind.  On the second strike, the AIM began blocking
the pain as well as healing the cuts on my back.  With each strike, the
pain became less, and I started laughing.  Anyone watching would have
thought that I had lost my mind.  After all, here I was hanging in a big
naked X in the hold of a pirate ship with a large, brutal man swinging at
me with all his strength.  I was being brutally flogged, but I was laughing
hysterically.



   "You can whip me all you want," I finally answered.  "The AIM will
protect and heal me."



   "I told you that wouldn't work, Hector," said a very pleasant voice from
behind me.  "But you always fire the cannons before you're in range."



   The person speaking slowly walked around in front of me.  Captain Jack
had made his appearance at last.  He reached up with one hand and softly
caressed my breast.  "What my mutinous first mate doesn't realize," he said
with a smile, "is that the magic metal will protect you from pain because
that is what it is designed to do.  Pain means something is broken, and AIM
fixes things that are broken."



   He rolled my nipple slowly between his fingers and it stiffened slightly
to his touch.  "But pleasure means things are working properly.  AIM will
not protect you from pleasure...  no matter how intense that pleasure
becomes."



   Captain Jack Sparrow's smile seemed much more genuine, but at the same
time, much more frightening than Barbossa's obviously false one.  He leaned
forward and gently pulled my nipple between his lips.  At first he was
kissing it, but soon he was softly suckling as moans began to escape from
my mouth.  His fingers were now moving slowly and softly up and down my
entire body.  For a moment he stood alongside me with one hand running down
my front and the other running down my back.



   As his hands reached my middle, he brought them together between my legs
so that his fingertips touched beneath me.  He then lifted slightly with
both hands so that the hand in front was pressing against my cunt and the
hand in back was pressing against my rosebud.  After a moment of pressure,
the fingers continued their gentle journey down my right leg.



   When he reached my foot, he reversed his path and returned to my crotch
where he once again pressed against my cunt and ass before going down my
left leg.  As he reached my left foot, his hands continued downward and off
my body.



   I was breathing very deeply as he lightly kissed my lips and softly
said, "Are you ready to tell us what we need to know?"

   I tried to answer, "No!" But it came out as "Nooooooooooooooooooooooo,"
as his hand returned to my cunt and his fingers began to lightly swirl
around my clit.



   "You like that, don't you?" he asked.



   My only answer was another moan as his hands continued to move on my
body.  For just an instant I thought to myself that a couple more sets of
hands would feel even better.



   I immediately regretted that thought as four more hands joined Jack's on
my body.  I looked around to see who the new people were and looked into
the eyes of two more Jack Sparrows.



   "You get used to that after a while," the first Captain Sparrow said
with a musical laugh, "especially if you've ever been to the locker."



   Six hands were roaming all over my body.  Two of the Jack Sparrows were
in front of me now, their mouths slowly engulfing my nipples.  My moans
were becoming louder and I was starting to buck and swing as I hung from
the spar.



   I wondered where the third Jack had gone, and I thought to myself, "I
know where I want him to be."



   "Don't add to the fantasy!" I screamed aloud to myself, but it was too
late.  The third Jack was now kneeling in front of me with his face pressed
against my glistening cunt.



   My body was thrashing and waving in my restraints.  My arms were held
outstretched by the restraints from which I hung and my legs were similarly
outstretched by the restraints attached to the lower spar.  Held in a taut
X, all I was able to do was twist and buck like a loose sail in the wind.



   I know I have orgasmed at least twice, but I am still being driven
higher and higher.



   "You can end all this, Missy," said Barbossa.  "All ye have to do is
tell us how ye stole the AIM."



   I tried to look him in the eye, but my body was too far into the orgasms
to allow any control.  "Why would I want to stop this?" I asked in a very
shaky voice before screaming out in another orgasm.  And then another.  And
then another.  Each orgasm was more intense than the one before.



   "AIM makes things perfect," Barbossa answered with his evil sounding
laugh.  "Do ye think ye can survive a perfect orgasm?"



   I tried to answer, but a fourth Captain Jack joined the trio.  This one
was naked.  His manhood was jutting upward in front of him as he stepped
between my legs.  He made a motion with one of his hands, and the rope was
lowered slightly so that I settled down onto that magnificent prick.  He
began thrusting inside of me.  Almost immediately, my cunt once again
spasmed and my body thrashed and bucked against his thrusts.  I screamed
out in the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced and everything went
dark.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619 116 14 34



   When I awoke, I was once again outside.  This time, I tried to
concentrate on what was going on around me.  The sun was high in the sky. I
was definitely at my house...  or where my house used to be.  I could dimly
see the houses across the street.  I could almost make out the trees in my
neighbors' back yards.  For some reason the large maple tree next to my
house seemed to have disappeared.



   Concentrating as hard as I could on what I thought I was seeing, I could
make out deep trenches that seemed to be dug in the ground around where my
house used to sit.  There seemed to be many very large pieces of
construction equipment nearby.  Hundreds of flashing lights reflected off
the enclosure in which I was lying.



   A loud voice vibrated the plastic.  "Judith, can you hear me?" it said.
"If you can, nod your head."



   I nodded my head and stood up.  I was totally naked.  There was nothing
there except me and the plastic which surrounded me.



   "Do you know where you are?" the voice asked.



   I shook my head no.



   "We have contained the contamination," the voice explained.  "You are in
a containment vessel."



   I looked at the plastic around me.  Except for the fact that it was
many, many times larger, it was exactly the same as the observation cage in
which I had tested the rodent.  Fear flooded my mind as I remembered what
happened to that rat.  Was I to be incinerated as it had been to contain a
biohazard?



   No sooner had I thought that than a solid metal cube surrounded me.



   "No, no, no," I screamed out, but it was too late.  I was now trapped
within whatever my mind-- and the AIM-- had formed.



   "What have I gotten myself into?" I wailed.  "I should never have done
this."



   No sooner had I said that than the room around me began changing.  Again
everything was wooden, but this time it was more modern.  A
strangely-shaped wooden bench filled the center of the room.  My body did
that strange rippling thing with my muscles and I flowed across the floor
and up onto the bench.



   As soon as I was in place, leather restraints formed to hold me in
place. I wish I didn't know what this bench is, but I have seen it many
times on some of the websites I visit.  It is a spanking bench.

   A rough voice calls my name, "Judith," it said, "do you know why you are
being punished?"



   I want to say "No!" but the truth is I know why I am being punished.  I
stole Artificial Intelligence Metal from the government facility where I
work.  I had hoped to prove that it could be used to heal people and get
rich producing and selling it for medical purposes.  Instead, all I had
done was to create this constantly changing hell in which I was trapped.



   "Yes," I sobbed out.



   "How many strokes should you receive as punishment?" the voice asked.



   "One hundred eighty," I replied.  "That is ten for each gram of AIM that
I stole."



   I don't know why I said that.  Perhaps I thought that if I was
sufficiently punished I might escape this purgatory.



   The man walked around in front of me.  I was surprised that he looked
artificial.  Then I recognized him.  This was the man in the dungeon on
that CGI dungeon site that I sometimes visited.



   "Now we know how much you took," he said.  "All you need to do for all
of this to stop is to tell us how you gathered together 18 grams of AIM
without anybody knowing...  or even suspecting.  The last person who tried
to steal AIM got caught when he attempted to misdirect a kit...  and that
is only 4.5 grams."



   Then he started whipping me.  I concentrated as hard as I could for the
AIM to both heal me and take away the pain.  Maybe I overdid it, because on
about the fourth strike of the whip, it started feeling good...  really
good.



   I don't know how many times he brought that terrible whip down on my
back and ass.  I do know that each time he struck I gasped, not in pain,
but in pleasure.



   I am now screaming, "More!  More!  More!" It seems to anger him and he
swings higher and puts more muscle behind each strike.  I am starting to
feel pain along with the pleasure.  It is a strange mixture of sensations
that is driving me higher than even my previous fantasies.



   I can feel it boiling from deep within me.  I know it will be
tremendous, but I want it.  I can hear Barbossa's warning that I would not
survive a perfect orgasm.  I don't care.  I want it.  I want it.

   I ...  "Aieeeeeee"



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619 116 19 08



   I must have passed out for a short while.  He is still whipping me and
my body is still responding with pleasure.  "This can go on forever," said
the artificial man.  "Just tell us how you stole the AIM."

   I opened my mouth to speak, but instead screamed out once again as
another orgasm overwhelmed me.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619 117 01 14



   I passed out again.  I don't know for how long.  "AIM can't protect you
from pleasure," the CGI man said with a sinister laugh.  "This WILL
eventually destroy you."



   He swung the whip upwards so that it struck between my legs.  Evidently
that took both me and the AIM by surprise because blinding pain washed over
me only to be replaced almost immediately by pleasure that I thought I
could never experience.



   "He is right." I admitted to myself.  "I can't survive this forever.  I
need to tell them."



   "4.54 grams out, 4.45 grams back in," I shout out.  "The receipts say
4.5 grams either way."



   The artificial man's voice became very soft, almost caring.  "This is
for your pleasure only, now." he crooned.  "Relax.  Let it overwhelm you.
You will find sleep in the darkness.  And when you awake this will be
over."



   He swung again, softly this time.  The result when the whip hit my cunt
was waves of extreme pleasure...  and darkness overwhelming me.



   Judith Conroy Autolog Entry 3619 119 09 43



   I woke up slowly.  I knew that I had been asleep, but wasn't sure for
how long.  Waking up is different from regaining consciousness, so I am
pretty sure that I had been asleep.  Besides, I felt rested.



   I look around.  I am once again outside, but the plastic observation
cage seems to have been moved out to the road and is slightly higher off
the ground.  I feel like at least a day has passed.  Things seem slightly
clearer than before.  I can see vehicles and construction equipment and
people walking around in various types of protection suits.



   I can hear a voice that I seem to recognize.  It is calling to me. 
"Judith," it says, "concentrate on my voice.  Try to block everything but
my voice from your mind."



   Something like a drum is beating slowly.  "Listen to the beat of the
drum," the voice continues.  "It and my voice are all you should think
about.  If you can concentrate on my voice and the beat of the drum you can
remain in control."



   I try to do what he says.  The beat of the drum is very comforting. 
Things are coming into focus.  I can now clearly see that I am in a huge
plastic observation cage sitting on a flatbed truck in front of where my
house used to be.  The house and most of my yard is gone.  There is nothing
there but a huge hole in the ground.  My neighbors' houses are still there,
but appear to be weirdly warped and damaged.  Above me I can see small
newsvid fliers as well as various military airships.



   Someone steps up to my cage.  I can see through the visor of his
protection suit that it is Doctor Hendricks, the supervisor of my lab. 
"Can you hear me, Judith?" he asks.



   I nod my head yes.



   "You did something very dangerous," he says.  "We were very lucky to be
able to contain the contamination."



   He paused and paced in front of the cage for a few moments.  "No one has
ever activated such a large amount of AIM into a living being before," he
said.  It almost sounded like he was genuinely concerned...  or perhaps
impressed.  "We have read your autologs.  We understand you had good
intentions, but..." His voice faded away into silence.



   "Can you de-activate it?" I asked.  I could feel tears flowing from my
eyes.



   The long pause and the look on his face told me more than any words he
might have said.  "You and it are one," he finally answered.  "We've tested
a couple more rats.  The only way to deactivate the AIM is to kill the
host."



   "So I'm going to be incinerated," I said glumly.



   "No," he answered with a crooked smile.  "You are safe from the fire. 
You have become much, much too valuable to incinerate.  You are the only
person in the world who has ever survived being merged with AIM.  It has
happened a couple times before in accidents, but the process was always
fatal."



   He looked intently at me and pursed his lips as he formed his next
words. "We need to find out why you are still alive," he said slowly.  "And
we need to find how to control it."



   He sounded almost excited as he asked "Do you realize what a
self-repairing soldier that can modify his or her surroundings would be
worth?"



   "So I am going to be an experiment at the facility?" I said.  "That's
not a whole lot better than being incinerated."



   "We have been able to watch everything," he replied.



   I felt myself growing very red as I thought about what "everything" must
have looked like.



   His eyes continued to bore through me as he said in his professional,
matter- of-fact tone, "I know that having your innermost sexual fantasies
played out in public is very embarrassing.  But those sexual fantasies seem
to be an important part of how you have survived this."



   He coughed slightly and added, "We also noticed that questions we tried
to ask you changed your fantasies-- sometimes quite dramatically.  So,
there is evidently some way to control this...  eventually." It had been a
very long pause before he said "eventually."



   He suddenly looked away, perhaps because he had just admitted that they
couldn't really help me, or perhaps it was because he was afraid to admit
that he somehow had projected some of his own fantasies into the AIM.  I
had never noticed before that he does bear an uncanny resemblance to
Captain Barbossa.



   "Once we are back at the facility," he continued, "we will...  ah... 
encourage you to go back into your fantasies and then see how we can guide
what happens.  Perhaps some day we can even figure out how to control what
happens." He shrugged.  "We may even discover how we can de-activate."



   "I guess that is better than being incinerated," I replied.



   He just smiled in response.



   "It would probably be best if we allowed you to fade out while we
transport you," he said as he glanced over at several workers standing
nearby.  After a quick flash of another smile that I guess he intended to
be reassuring, he added, "We will protect you from the eyes of the public
en route."



   He made a motion with his hands and a large tarp was pulled up over the
observation cage.  The only sound is now the sound of straps being pulled
tight over the covered cage.  His voice is gone.  The beat of the drums is
fading away.  The plastic cage is also starting to fade.



   "So what will it be?" I ask myself aloud.



   As if in answer, stone columns began to rise out of the plastic. 
Torches appear on the stone walls that now surrounded me.



   "Ah, yes," I say with a smile of my own.  "It looks like I'm going to be
visiting the King's Dungeon."



   = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

   END OF STORY

   = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
   
<1st attachment end>


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