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Subject: {ASSM} Metamorphosis REPOST Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Machine / Lesbian / Female Masturbation / Spanking / Flogging
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Date: Sat, 21 Nov 2015 07:10:05 -0500
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Reposted to correct author name and format errors

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

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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