Comfy

Jenna hit her brakes and pulled a sharp right turn into the industrial park just past the dimly-lit sign. She followed the signs for the right building, then parked in front of a nondescript, concrete-faced building only marked with four glass doors, each with a suite letter after the building address. 'A' was printed on both the key and card in her handbag and, after locking the car and making sure she had the clothing she'd bought hurriedly on the way over, she went over to the leftmost suite door and let herself in with the key. She was still in her work clothes: a frock-like dress with a peasant scoop neckline, but she'd traded the four inch heels for her flats, and had ditched the Wonderbra, making the dress a little looser up top. Until she started wearing her boss' hand-me-downs she'd been quite proud of her 34C-24-36 figure, but now she naturally measured herself to her clothing's standards, and came up a few inches, and letters, short.

The room beyond the front door looked like an abandoned receptionist area. The walls were clad in bowed, dark wood paneling, with matching molding along the ceiling. A reception desk was built into the space, providing a little waiting area on the right with squares of less-stained carpet marking where bookshelves and chairs had once been positioned. The lighting from the street was fading; she felt along the wall by the door for a light switch. When she flicked it on, Jenna was a bit surprised when a narrow spotlight in the next room lit instead, throwing shadows into the front office and turning the glass door reflective to the outside light. She turned and looked at the now mirrored surface, and reflexively pulled her shoulder-length blond hair back behind her ears and fluffed at the bangs on her forehead before turning and walking towards the light.

The floodlight hung from the ceiling was way too bright, Jenna realized as soon as she stepped into the light. The fixture seemed to focus the light instead of disperse it, making it impossible to see even the size of the room, although she couldn't hear any echoes from her feet as she stepped into the room. The room itself was covered in what looked like acoustic fabric, she recognized from a brief stint as a wannabe rock guitarist's girlfriend. Looking back at the door, still ajar, she noticed that it was unusually thick as well, and covered with a similar fabric. She shrugged, and looked down at the instruction sheet. It said to put her things down, and press the intercom button when she was ready. That took but a moment, and when she pressed the button it lit up immediately. There was an intercom on a table in the center of the light, along with a comfortable chair.

"Hello, Ms. Loit," a woman said in a neutral tone. "Sorry I can't be there just now, but something came up with one of the other beds being tested tonight, so, if you don't mind, can we do this over the intercom?"

"Sure, ah... Do you work for Mr. Oyev?"

There was a momentary pause. "Yes, Ms. Loit, I do. I'm his assistant."

Jenna grinned, making a connection a la Vonnegut's granfaloons. "That's interesting; I'm Ms. Fender's assistant, and I'm here since we came up short one person on your list."

She couldn't know that the list had been carefully made up with just that shortage in mind. The voice continued. "Well, you understand the drill, then. Mr. Oyev asked me to cover for him, from his office, while he's fixing one of the beds next door."

"All right, Ms..."

"Sorry," the voice laughed. "Daphne Dare's my name. Glad to meet you, sort of," she chuckled, no longer sounding neutral.

"Well, Daphne, sort of glad to meet you too," Jenna said, relaxing as she felt a connection with the disembodied voice on the intercom. "So, what do I do next?"

"Well, it's really very simple, Jenna. May I call you that?"

"It's Jen; sure."

"Well, this is the sixth or seventh set of tests we've done, so it's really old hat by now. The lighting in the room is a bit strange because of the previous tenant and our lack of funds on anything other than Mr. Oyev's project, but it works. What we want you to do is relax, have dinner on us, and then turn in early for the night after you answer some questions while sitting up in the bed. Then, in the morning, we'll go over another set of questions, and hopefully I can do that in person, just one assistant to another."

Jenna grinned. "Okay, I can do all that. Except I need to be downtown at a meeting with my boss at nine AM sharp."

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem; we'll just wake you up first on the list. Seven all right with you?"

"Sure. Except I don't know how long it'll take me to fall asleep. I mean, it's only around six thirty now."

"Well, it's a lot easier when you're in a dark room, with no lights, and no TV or radio to distract you. It's all to help you focus on the sensations of the bed, and how it settles in with your body."

"Okay, I could use some catching up on my sleep, I guess."

"Not a problem," Daphne continued briskly. I managed to wangle one of the prototypes myself from Joe - I mean Mr. Oyev -" she tittered, "so I sleep on one of those every night. It's heaven, especially, well, if I sleep in the buff."

Jenna could imagine Daphne blushing, and flashed for a moment to her boss, naked, on the silver, satiny-looking sheets she had seen from the photos. She flushed, felt herself moisten below as she unconsciously licked her lips.

"Well, I don't think I'll be doing that tonight, Daphne-" she started.

"Oh, but that's part of the test," Daphne broke in. Just read the instruction sheet. We can't test the bed's full capabilities unless the subjects are totally naked, especially watches and jewelry. It messes up the bed's monitors or something. Anyway, that's a clause in the agreement. Mr. Oyev cancelled out a model from Elle just last week because she insisted on sleeping in her favorite nighty." Daphne made it sound ridiculous that one wouldn't comply with such a simple request. "I mean" she continued, "it's also in the contract that there is no video or audio recording made at all, just feedback data from the bed's electronics."

Jenna chewed her lower lip for a moment. "Umm, okay, but if it's all right with you, I'd rather undress under the covers."

Daphne laughed. "If you insist. I assure you I won't peek."

Jenna joined in the laughter. "Well, I hope I get to meet you tomorrow," she said.

"I promise, I'll wake you up in person," Daphne said over the intercom. "Now, let me turn on the other light," there was a click on the line, then the light above her head winked out, replaced with the ruddy glow of the sconces at the bed's corners, just a few feet away. "Sorry about the lighting, but the stupid suites here only have enough power for the plug for the light, or the bed, but not both, and it used to be a recording studio, so all the controls are in the main booth in a building across the street. Now, why don't you lock up the suite and close the inside door and come on back."

Jenna walked out to the front, where it was mostly dark outside, locked the outside door, then followed the rosy light back into the room, where she turned around and closed the heavy inside door. It made a 'thud' sound as it swung to, and she could barely hear the lock tongue engage with the doorframe. She turned the handle to make sure it still opened almost by reflex.

"Leaving already?" Daphne chirruped. Jenna jumped; there HAD to be cameras in the room to know what she did.

"Jeez, don't spook me like that!" Jenna said, with more force than she had originally intended. "Sorry, she immediately blurted. "It's just that you really startled me."

"Sorry, don't mean to sound omniscient," Daphne said, sounding very contrite. "I have monitors in this office, to make sure the light seal is tight, since the bed uses light to help you relax. When you opened the door, it signaled that outside light was coming in. I didn't mean to freak you out, really I'm sorry! Look, the door doesn't even have a lock on it, so don't worry about that." Not one that would unlock from the inside, at least.

Jenna unbristled. "Well, that was a little weird. But I'm sorry." She paused. Oh, what about food; I'm famished. Oh, and a bathroom?" she finished plaintively.

Daphne's voice chuckled albeit tinnily over the intercom. "Sorry about that. Food's on a table near the bed; part of what Mr. Oyev wants to find out is how comfortable it is to sit at the bed's edge and eat, so that works. And the bathroom is just beyond the bed. I was able to stick a battery-operated light above the sink, so there's light there, but you need to make sure that door is closed tight as well before you start eating. And you should go to sleep right after you eat; that's also something Mr. Oyev insisted; I think it has to do with seeing how well people can sleep on a full stomache."

"Okay," Jenna said. "I'll do that now."

"Great," Daphne replied. "Now remember to put your plastic card in the slot by the headboard when you are ready to sleep; that's very important, since it turns on the electronics." There was a squawking noise in the background. "Okay, I need to go now and handle Mr. Kronin, who just walked in his front door and is shouting for service," she finished a little coldly.

"Okay, good night Daphne."

"Good night Jenna. Sleep wonderfully!" The light on the intercom clicked off, and Jenna was left in the rosy dark of the room. Cautiously she padded over to the bed, and put one hand on the sheets by the sconces that would be at her feet that night. Then immediately put her other hand on it, and gently stroked the material. It was silky smooth, and felt like she was pouring cool, thickened oil over her hands. It was slippery enough that she worried for a moment how she would mount the bed at all, but when she turned around and hopped on her weight seemed to keep her in place. She hopped off again, closely examining the covered dishes and bottles arrayed on a small hospital-like table next to the bed. Then, mindful of Daphne's instructions, she hunted for the dim crack of light emanating from under the bathroom door, used the toilet and washed up, then returned to the bed.

The meal was wonderful: there were vegetarian and high protein dishes, but Jenna downed the shake labeled "One Calorie Metabolite Drink" as soon as she could make out the name, sitting high up on the bed, which seemed to contour itself to her ass so she felt supported, not sinking. It felt really good inside her, seeming to fill her stomach like no diet shake ever did, leaving her feeling warm and mellow in the dim, red lights of the bed. Jenna plunked the glass down unsteadily onto the table and pushed it away with her toes, then stopped to yawn three times in quick succession. 'Wow,' she thought, 'I guess I'm really going to do some serious damage to my sleep deficit tonight.'

She had noticed a tray on the dinner tray marked 'Watches & Jewelry,' so she peeled off her imitation Piaget watch, costume rings and necklace, and carefully unclipped her diamond chip earrings, heirloom gifts from her grandmother and placed them all in the tray. Then she scrambled up into the bed, with the bottom sheet giving her palms just enough traction to scoot well into the bed and got under the sheets, where she pulled her dress over her head and then peeled her panties off, kicking them off the side of the bed with her toes. She was rapidly starting to fade, she realized, but stuck her plastic card, which she had tossed on her pillow at dinner, into the slot under the bed. Then she lay back in the soft, giving material and started to close her eyes. Then she opened them wide as the bed started a low hum - then smiled as the bed got really comfortable, slight pressure supporting her hips and spine, and raising her legs ever so slightly above the flat plane of her body. The mattress, which she didn't think could get any more comfortable, softened up, and the sheet seemed to take on almost a life of its own, cooling off just enough to keep her comfortable.

She relaxed, then noticed out of the corner of her eyes that the soft, red lights above her head seemed to be flickering: first one side was slightly brighter, then the other, then back again. Jenna lay back, bemusedly watching the lights move back and forth, back and forth above her head, the strain telling on her eyes, making them droop even as she tried to keep them open to see them move. The hum from the bed seemed to get more pronounced, as if there was someone talking underneath the hum, but it was so hard to hear, and the lights seemed to flicker around the bed, going slowly clockwise around the bed. Around. Around. So soft. So quiet. All quiet. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. The old Jenna Loit closed her eyes for the last time and went into a deep, hypnotized sleep.

The woman who called herself Daphne earlier looked at the infrared image on the screen. The computers in the bed signaled Jenna's capture, and continued to work to deepen her trance. The woman smiled, a little sadly, and pressed a button, sealing the room and locking the doors so her latest victim would not be disturbed. She turned to the bed's computer, and clicked on the menu labeled: Initialize Containment.

On the bed things happened quickly, but fluidly. The pillow beneath Jenna's helpless head flowed out from below her, but pillowed up around the side of her head, securely covering her ears. The sconces on either side of her head surged upwards and forwards, arcing down until they each covered an eye, giving her the look of an obscene, controlling Mardi Gra mask.

The top sheet, which had been flaccidly lying on Jenna, seemed to thicken and move. It gently draped around her wrists and ankles, pushing and moving them across the slick sheets until they came to the edges of the bed. There, limp folds of the sheets gently draped down across her upwards-facing palms and ankles, stiffening in place until they were no softer than bands of steel.

The rest of the sheet thickened around her chest, stretching first over, then around her breasts. Thicker still the sheet flowed up around her nipples, until they seemed to mold around them like a latex bra. Lastly, one of the sconces at the foot of the bed came down, sliding under the sheet, until it met Jenna's vagina, her relaxed crotch up thrust by the bed. From within the recesses of the orchid-like flower shape came the top of a tubular shape, of the same material as the sheets, but glistening, wet, lubricated. The sconce held position at her labia's entrance.

When the bed was ready, it began. The white noise and whirring sounds masking the hypnotic induction faded away, replaced with a steady murmur of commands. Under the upper sconces Jenna blankly opened her eyes, staring at as three-dimensional hypnotic spiral took her deeper and deeper into her own pleasure. As they did the sheet bottom holding her ankles at bay started moving upward, pushing her knees upwards, then outwards. When they stopped, the orchid facing her crotch started moving, its glistening tip dipping forwards, then back, making small, teasing patterns as the lips of the orchid rubbed her labia in a slow, demanding, circular path. As Jenna started moving slowly in helpless reaction, the resonating crystals meshed in the fabric started their night-long programming, whispering commands accompanied by increasingly graphic images playing into her helpless, open eyes.

The bed muttered and moved for most of the evening and well into the night, punctuated by Jenna's increasingly strident moans, cries, and oaths of programmed obedience. "Obey the mistress!" was a frequent mantra. "The bed is restful," was another, and "Obey the bed." This last said accompanied by Jenna's half scream, half moan of a mind-shattering orgasm.

From the observation room at the back end of the building, screens were monitored, personalities tweaked, stretched and obscenely violated. The watcher grinned grimly at the efficient progress, then curled up on a cot in the room at three o'clock, when the last of the subjects finally dropped off to sleep, unconsciously clutching at sconces still lapping at their dripping crotches.