in Lab 6

   Tami Smithers tried to numb her mind as she walked into Chalfont, ignoring the close inspection of her breasts and bare butt as she passed by the usual gaggle of white-coated nerdy students milling around the entrance. They all knew her weekly schedule and tried to be around to see her come in.  The naked girl adjusted her bookbag strap and walked in, noticing that even the sunny day and fresh spring air did little to change the musty, creepy atmosphere inside.  To insulate herself mentally she thought of nice old Ned and Ethel and their accounting office, with her all in snuggly clothes, working the adding machine.  .  .

       The waiting room to Lab 6 was empty.  Tami paused.  Good-bye Ned and Ethel.  Hello, Science.  Bracing herself like a swimmer about to dive into freezing water.  Then she pushed through the door into the lab itself.

       It was very bright.  And very cold.  Tami immediately felt the cold air upon her breasts and felt her nipples get rock hard.  The arctic blast was coming from an air conditioner set into a wall.  As she felt goosebumps rising on her butt and on her arms, she remembered McMasters telling her that the lab would be kept cold to offset her increased metabolism.

       The cold was evident also from the clothing being worn -- by everyone, of course, except her.  She stood with her bookbag on her shoulder, feet a little apart, and suddenly all her mental insulation was stripped away so that her mind was as nude as her body.  Taking in the view, she was scared, mortified, and couldn’t breathe.  Standing at the console was McMasters.  Sitting next to him was Mr. Zipkin, his assistant from that earlier meeting.  And behind them, sitting in the movie-theater style seats, were several men and a couple of women, all professional-looking, all looking at her with what looked like detached scientific curiosity.  Everyone was wearing sweaters over their suits.  It really was cold in here.  That, and her nervousness, made her start to shiver but she suppressed the urge and tried to relax her “shiver muscles”, something she had often done before.

       And . . .Rolling out from behind a desk in his wheelchair was Homer Winant, from the grounds crew!  He was dressed in his usual mechanic’s outfit, with a parka thrown on top.  He nodded to Tami in his courtly way, not seeming to realize how out of place he looked here.

       “Good afternoon, Miss Smithers,” McMasters said.  “Please leave your bookbag in the waiting room.  It will be safe there, don’t worry.”

       With an air of unreality, as if this were just an unpleasant dream, Tami turned around.  When she re-entered the lab she stood in front of these people, dearly wishing she could run and hide or at least use her hands to cover herself, feeling even more naked without her bookbag.  But in the freezing air she bravely stood upright, hands at her sides, legs a moderate distance apart.

       “Ladies and gentlemen, this is our subject, Miss Tami Smithers,” McMasters said by way of introduction.  “In a moment she will mount the apparatus.  Our thanks, again, to Mr. Winant, for his help with the design.” After a second’s thought, Tami realized that Winant wasn’t so out of place after all.  She thought of the times she was trudging on those treadmills at the Dixon Mill, shamed and sweating, when Winant would come in to watch her in silence.  She knew now that he hadn’t been just leering at her sweaty curves and laboring muscles.  He had been studying the angle of hips and her legs, how they bent forward and splayed open, judging the proper angle for her to be stationed and impaled on the ghastly orgasm machine -- the “apparatus”.

       Tami looked sideways edgily.  The bottomless chair was there, the posts with the cuffs for her wrists and ankles.  The shafts for the dildos were not there yet; there were just two large holes in the base of the stage.  She saw that the shafts and dildos were lying on the console.  McMasters picked them up, resuming what had been a lecture in progress.  He said, “We have already discussed these, and will be inserting them in a moment.  .  . For now, Miss Smithers, if you could station yourself on the chair.”

       It was hard for the goose-bumped, naked girl to keep from shaking, as if she were stepping up to a gallows.  She went to the front of the stage where there was a partition in the console and walked up and stepped onto it.  With her second foot the hop wasn’t quite high enough and she tripped forward, causing her to splay her legs out in full view of the audience behind her.  Fortunately her hands broke her fall.  Swallowing and trying to regain her composure she turned and faced her audience, spreading her legs way, way apart and lowering her thighs onto the supports of the bottomless chair.  Mr. Zipkin got up and cuffed her ankles and wrists on each side, taking time to make sure they were secure.

       When he got back down to the console Tami found herself on an upraised stage facing these inquisitive adults, tied and spread out, feeling the cold air inside her pussy and knowing her lower lips were open, knowing that in the bright lights every little detail of her privates was fully visible.  It was almost like a blow to her when Zipkin flicked on the spotlights, which were set below her as well as up on the ceiling, behind as well as in front.  She could actually feel a little heat from the lights on the sensitive skin of her pussy lips and her butthole.  She averted her eyes, looking down at a point on the stage in front of her, wishing the audience was darkened like in a real theater so that she wouldn’t able to see their faces.  But the room was so well lit that she was aware of everyone.  She swallowed again, nerves taut, trying not to show any trace of modesty or shame or any of the mortification she was feeling.  It was obvious, certain, that the Dean’s spies would be here of all places, looking for any little trace, any telltale motion with her eyes or anything else that she had any feelings of modesty whatsoever.

       She heard a door open somewhere in front of her and glanced upward for a split second.  Henry Ross, wearing a sweater under his usual business suit, had just entered, and sat in one of the front seats.  McMasters did not introduce him to the others.  Tami dared not look at him but sensed his vigilant gaze.  She loathed this creepy man and hated the idea that she was so brightly lit and spread out right in his face.

       During another quick upward eye-flick Tami saw her own face, on a monitor in the wall in front.  Her own face, on T.  V.  She noted the stonelike expression as it showed on the screen and was glad that she wasn’t showing any fear or discomfort.  Then she noticed a little red light on the camera front and center, pointed right at her from four feet away. Lights, camera, action.

       “You can see the camera is on, from the console monitors,” McMasters told his audience.  “Let’s check if the audial equipment is on.  “ He walked up to Tami and adjusted the little microphone which hung about two feet above her face.  “Miss Smithers, if you could count to five, in a regular voice.”

       Tami inhaled and knew she had no choice but to obey.  Not wanting her voice to crack, she cleared her throat.  Still resolutely looking down, not wanting to look at the microphone, she said in a tiny voice, “One .  .  . two .  .  .  three .  .  .  four .  .  .  five.”  She blushed as she thought that she just as well could be counting the spasms when she came, like Lorinda walking past her with index finger upraised.

       Mr. Zipkin whispered something to McMasters, whereupon McMasters said, “Miss Smithers, probably during orgasm your, uh, vocalizations would be louder.  We want to get the levels right.  Please count again in a stronger voice.”

       Tami tried not to cry.  He said “orgasm” so casually.  And he was really rubbing this in.  Why don’t I just fake an orgasm while I’m at it?  But again, in a louder voice, “One .  .  .  two .  .  .  three .  .  .  four . . .  five.” Try not to think of Lorinda .  .  .

       “Very good,” McMasters said, looking down at the audio dials in front of Mr. Zipkin.  He then spoke to the audience.  “If there are no questions, I’d like to start with the insertions as soon as our other assistant arrives.”

       There was an uneasy silence.  The onlookers, or at least most of them, seemed uncertain as to what they were about to witness.  One woman, sitting in back, raised her hand and said, “I just want to say, Miss, that you are really very brave and, uh, open in agreeing to demonstrate the limits of female orgasmic response like this.  It’s hard to believe that a young woman could volunteer so freely.”

       “Yes, Miss Smithers is an amazingly uninhibited young adult,” Mr. McMasters said.  “But indeed, yes she did freely agree to this research, in fact enthusiastically so.  She fervently believes that to receive sexual pleasure is a great gift, and she wants others to learn about it so that they can experience it as well.  Right?” he said pleasantly, looking at Tami.

       Tami felt the obligation to look up and saw Ross looking at her with his raised eyebrow.  Further up she saw the woman in the back row.  She seemed kind.  If only she knew!!  Tami wanted to scream out her shame, shout, “Help me!!  Untie me!!  Please!!  Get me some clothes!!  Take me away from here!!”  But she knew she could not.

       She also realized that McMasters was laying it on thick.  She had said none of those things he had attributed to her.  “Enthusiastic?” And what was this about the “limits of female orgasmic response”?  But seeing Ross’s eyebrow, she knew what her rejoinder had to be and knew she had to make it sound convincing.  “Yes, that’s true,” she said with a little smile, and nobody could detect the deep hurt in her pretty eyes as she said it.  Then she cleared her throat and slowly looked down again.

       Just then the door opened and Brendo, that geeky Chalfont student who had been assisting with Dr. Harridance’s experiments, came in wearing a lab coat made more bulky by the sweatshirt he had added underneath.  “Hi, Tami,” he said affably as he sat down next to Mr. Zipkin and fiddled with some things on the console.  Tami, hating every second, hoping it was O.K. not to make eye contact with this clammy-handed dweeb, returned the nod.

       McMasters said, “Well, before the full dildos are inserted, we will ‘open up’ Miss Smithers with smaller objects.  Brendo will do the honors, he helped with the last set of experiments and he has much experience in working with Miss Smithers’s vagina and rectum.”

       Tami saw Brendo get up with a couple of smaller dildos.  She could see that the tips had been lubricated with clear gel of some kind.  In the cold air she imagined her openings would be constricted and small.  She prayed that the insertions would not hurt, and braced herself for the feel of Brendo’s clammy hands, even colder than usual now, feeling up her most private, secret places.  Tami closed her eyes and prayed.  At least Brendo knew her openings well and knew how to put things in without hurting her . . .

       “Brendo will work on Miss Smithers’s rectal passage first,” McMasters announced.  “If you want, you can come around to the rear to see as he points out some features of that orifice.  Go ahead, there’s plenty of room behind the stage.”  Her eyes still closed, Tami heard the shuffling of men getting up and a general motion around the console and then behind her.

       Tami waited for the inevitable, then it came.  The cold, wet feel of the dildo against her anus.  She exhaled and met Brendo’s gentle push with a push of her own as if she were trying to shit, so that her muscles would more easily accept the intrusion.  Much as she hated to admit it, the two of them had become very practiced at this little dance from all the times he had inserted that anal monitor thing during those other experiments.  They were a team.

       “Miss Smithers has exception rectal tone,” McMasters said, crouching down behind Brendo and pointing.  The men crowded around, bent over a little, though because the stage was set so high up, they didn’t have to bend down much.  The two little spotlights trained onto the girl’s anal area allowed them to see in minute detail as Brendo pushed the small white dildo through the ring of brown skin.  The dildo was less than an inch wide and only five inches long, but to the cold, scared, naked girl, it felt huge.

       McMasters continued his little lecture on that universally discussed topic, The Anus of Tami Smithers.  “The rectal tone probably accounts for Miss Smithers’s unusually strong sexual response.  A major component of orgasm is the contraction of the anal muscles, and if the muscles are strong and well toned, the contractions will be more extensive and numerous.”

       Tami wished for a moment that she was one of those women who never had an orgasm.  Why did she have to be so responsive?  Why did she have to come so much during Dr. Harridance’s research?  She took conscious breaths in and out as the dildo slowly invaded her gut.  Her ankles shifted in their cuffs and her toes squirmed uneasily.  A chill went through her nipples, hard and stiff in the cold air.

       “Brendo, how is the insertion?” McMasters said, noticing that his assistant had all but one inch of the dildo in and was holding it in place with one finger.

       “Very smooth,” Brendo said.  To give his audience a better view he shifted around, changed fingers, and put his clammy, cold hand on Tami’s hard little butt cheek to stretch it open to the side.

       “Perhaps one of you would like to hold this dildo in for a moment, to notice the strong rectal tone,” McMasters said.  Detecting a little hesitancy, he said, “Go ahead.”

       One of the men, an older, distinguished looking man in a trimmed gray beard, crouched forward to put his finger onto the dildo as Brendo withdrew. Tami felt the man’s breath on her butt cheeks.  She kept her gaze glued to the floor, praying silently, wishing she could die.  Then she felt the dildo being gently pushed in and out in little motions.  With each little motion in, she felt pressure such that her eyes would bug out a little.  And she knew this was just the beginning.

       “I can feel a strong push outward,” the man said, curious and impressed. “You see what I mean,” McMasters said.

       Then, to Tami’s horror, the man absently took his finger off the dildo and she felt it glide out of her butt and drop to the floor with a metallic clank.  It felt to her exactly like she was taking a shit, right in front of these men.

       “Whoops,” Brendo said.  “The rectal muscles tend to expel what is inside,” McMasters explained.  “That is why when the anal probe was inserted in Miss Smithers during the earlier research, it was flanged so that it could not be spontaneously expelled.”

       Tami almost cried with shame.  This was a new extreme in embarrassment. She closed her eyes as Brendo went around to the console for a tissue and then returned to pick up the dildo and wipe the floor.  She was glad she couldn’t see the dildo; she fervently hoped there were no shit stains on it. Fortunately she had gone to the bathroom just before the appointment and she was pretty sure her bowels were empty.

       “Well, we can’t re-insert it now,” McMasters mused.  “Though we keep the lab very clean, it must have collected some dust from the floor.  I think it’s done its job though.  Time to insert the full dildo.”

       As the naked girl kept her eyes closed, praying, Mr. Zipkin came around with the long piston rod, at the end of which was the big white dildo that had been shown to Tami the week before in Lab 5.  As he put the rod through the hole in the stage and screwed it into the hidden cam below, McMasters said, “I’ve already explained about the lubrication system, let’s see if it works.” Brendo, back at the console, flicked a lever and the men could see gel beginning to emerge from the myriad little holes.  “Excellent.  Let’s go.”

       As the rod slowly pushed up, Mr. Zipkin guided it until it was touching Tami’s butthole.  “All right, Miss Smithers, push down, please,” McMasters said.

       Tami pushed her rectal muscles and felt the huge dildo slowly open up the ring of her butthole.  She could keenly feel every one of the little holes, like little ridges, as they passed through her most sensitive skin, her most sensitive muscle.  She began to breathe deeply, almost hyperventilating, as her sphincter was painfully stretched open, wide, wide, wider.  This thing was huge.  They had assured her it was not much larger than the average penis, but this thing had to be bigger than Rod’s dick.  And it was cold and didn’t have any give to it.  Rod’s dick was warm flesh and blood, but this was hard, unyielding metal.  She opened her eyes and though they were downcast, the people still sitting in front of her could see her eyes open wide in amazement and fear as her insides were slowly filled up.

       “Very good,” McMasters said.  “Let’s piston it in slowly.”  He gave a signal to Brendo, who continued to work the console.  The dildo continued in and when it had gone in about four inches, it was withdrawn an inch, then went in an inch and a half, withdrawn an inch .  .  .  In half inch increments the huge, pinhole-covered metal cylinder was carefully inserted.

       It was fortunate that McMasters and his assistants, whatever their motivations, really did take care that the teenage girl not be injured.  The experience was traumatic enough as it was.  To deal with the intrusion Tami took great breaths in and out.  The two women in the theater seats, and Henry Ross and Homer Winant and the other men who had stayed in front, watched as her concave tummy moved in and out with her breathing and her wide-open, desperate eyes stared at a fixed point on the floor in front of her.  Despite the cold, her naked body was beginning to flush with the exertion.  The innocent onlookers assumed that these were simply signs of arousal from an unusually sexually responsive woman.

       “Stop,” McMasters said abruptly and the dildo stayed planted about six inches into Tami’s rectum.  He reached up to the ceiling and brought down a little camera that was suspended from a retractable stalk, and then demonstrated a feature that he had not told Tami about.  “If you could direct your attention to our MRI screen, you can see a live image of Miss Smithers’s pelvic area.”

       Tami could not help but look to her side.  On a blank white part of the wall was a three-foot-tall image of what looked like an X-ray of a pelvic area.  Hers!  Yet it didn’t quite look like an X-ray.  Tami had never actually seen an MRI, though she had heard of them.  She noticed that she could see not only bones but what looked like internal organs.  And a lot of tubes that she recognized as intestines.  Her insides!  She was morbidly fascinated, though this was mixed with shame at the knowledge that now, even her insides were exposed to the full view of others.

       McMasters went to the screen and pointed to the outline of Tami’s butt. The naked girl involuntarily clenched her inner muscles as she realized that that solid white thing, sticking halfway up and into the pelvis, was the dildo.  But as she did this the image moved and she knew that everyone could see her move her inner muscles.  Would Henry Ross consider this clench as a sign of modesty?  She bit her lip as she realized she must now control even her inner muscles or attract suspicion.  Good thing they couldn’t see inside her mind as well!

       “Note that about six inches of the dildo are now inside Miss Smithers’s rectum,” McMasters said.  “See how it has come to the end of the normal extension of the rectum for a female of her age and size.  Further insertion means negotiating the curve into the sigmoid colon,” he continued, sweeping his finger along the easily-seen tracery of the girl’s large intestine.  “Some care must be taken in this, though Miss Smithers has considerable experience with anal intercourse and we really don’t think there is any danger of rupture.”

       Tami felt like he was making it sound like she was a perverted slut who liked being fucked up the ass all the time.  She also winced at the word “rupture”.

       “Nevertheless,” he continued, “we will make a slight adjustment and continue.” Tami inhaled a bit as she felt the shock of Mr. Zipkin’s cold, rough hands grab her firmly on each side of her butt.  He twisted her pelvis slightly one way.  Then Brendo turned a dial on the console and another inch of the dildo went it.  It felt to Tami like her insides had been pushed around to make room for more of the dildo.  This was the same kind of feeling she got when Rod pushed his dick in all the way.  Her sigmoid colon had been “negotiated”.

       “Very good,” McMasters said.  “You can see it has entered her sigmoid colon.” Despite her distress the naked girl turned to see the solid white object now up into another part of the ghostly tracery of a tube.

       “Now that we are satisfied with an unimpeded insertion, we will proceed,” McMasters said.  “Right now, we are at seven inches.  Brendo, please increase the insertion to eight inches.”

       Tami felt the dildo push even farther in.  Her breath was shallow now. She felt like deep breaths were no longer possible.  The dildo felt like it was about to emerge from her tonsils and there was no longer any room for her lungs to draw in air.

       The dildo lurched in another inch and she grunted.

       “We are now at eight inches,” McMasters said.  He went up to the stage and pointed to Tami’s pelvis.  “Note the slightly tilted pelvis as compared to before.  We are now at full insertion.”

       As he went back to the console, the naked girl dropped her head down, her hair hiding her face.  He looked at the dial and then at Mr. Zipkin, who was still standing behind Tami.  “I wonder if we should go to nine inches.”

       Tami prayed silently.  “Please, no more.  I can’t take any more.  This thing will tear my poor insides apart.  Please, God, no more.”  Her lips moved slightly as she mouthed the words to this prayer, fortunately hidden from view by her hanging hair.

       McMasters said, “Though eight inches’ insertion is greater than afforded by the average penis, during the experiment Miss Smithers will jerk violently during orgasm.  To protect her from injury we have restrained her wrists and ankles.  Deeper insertion of the dildos, as the two work together, help as well.  The point is to minimize the danger of mal-insertion during a bodily spasm and possible injury.  Having one dildo inserted as deeply as possible as the other dildo is about to re-enter helps stabilize the pelvis.”  Damn these folks, Tami thought, they have a plausible reason for everything.  .  .

       One of the women in the back raised her hand.  “Isn’t nine inches rather, uh, extreme?”

       “Actually, no.  It is possible, with much practice, to insert objects such as enema tubes much further in.  But our goal at this point is to go to the limit of Miss Smithers’s capacity, not try to expand it.” He rubbed his chin and looked at Mr. Zipkin, who shrugged.  Finally, McMasters said, “Okay then, let’s go to nine inches.”

       Tami felt her eyes getting wet behind her mussed up, hanging, slightly damp hair.  Why did she even bother to pray?  Things always went against her.  Good thing her big prayer, that she be given clothes, would be answered in a few weeks.  At least she had that much to comfort her.

       The penetration of nine inches through Tami Smithers’s rectum and into her sigmoid colon was achieved, by which time the naked girl felt like a sample butterfly impaled on a pin.

       “We will give her a moment to get acclimated to this insertion, then proceed.  Brendo, get out the little dildo to open up Miss Smithers from the front .  .  . ”

7.

       The men behind Tami took one last look at the dildo planted deeply in her butt, then moved around to the front and sat down in the theater seats. All eyes now focused on Tami’s pussy, the lips open between her widely-spread legs, her ankles splayed out and cuffed to the posts way out to each side.  Brendo knelt in front of her with another little dildo, covered with gel.

       “To make room for the frontal insertion we will withdraw most of the rectal dildo,” McMasters said.  Mr. Zipkin, taking Brendo’s place behind the console, turned the dial and the dildo in Tami’s rear started to withdraw.  Once again, she felt like she was taking a shit as it slipped out of her.  But not all the way!  Mr. Zipkin had left an inch inside, keeping her anal ring stretched.  It felt to Tami as if she was about to expel a big turd but couldn’t quite do it.  This was a very uncomfortable feeling.  She found herself trying to push the thing out, but there was no fighting the sturdy metal rod that kept it in place.

      As Brendo adjusted the little front spotlights on the floor, McMasters went up to the girl’s side and pointed with his finger.  “Note, of course, a typical, well-developed female vulva.  As Brendo spreads the labia, note the engorged and well-developed clitoris.  I’ll adjust the camera so everyone can see this on the monitor.” He then hopped back off the stage.

       Actually everyone could see Tami’s pussy lips, in sharp relief in the harsh light, just fine.  The only thing that adusting the camera did was afford Tami herself the view of her stretched-open pussy on the big TV monitor that was facing her.  She glanced at it quickly and that was enough. It only served to remind her of her shame.  She went back to looking at a spot on the floor just to one side of Brendo’s greasy black hair.  She suppressed the urge to squirm as his clammy hands parted her inner pussy lips and the little dildo was slowly inserted.  Behind, her anal muscles still fought with the nearly-expelled rear dildo.

       At least this new insertion wasn’t so bad as with the dildo in her butt. Having something in her pussy was more natural.  And being able to see what was going on put her mind at ease somewhat.  Still, feeling the dildo go almost all the way in, then feeling Brendo accidentally rub her clit and then gently thrust the dildo in and out, forced Tami into a state of arousal that she did not welcome.

       Of course, McMasters was quick to point this out.  “Note the flush of arousal on Miss Smithers’s face, responding quite naturally to the stimulation.” Then, as if to increase the dramatic effect, he held up a large box.  “Now, the specially designed stimulator dildo for the vagina.” With the slowness of a magician poking around in his hat for a rabbit, McMasters put his hand in the box and rummaged.  He went up to the stage and then, suddenly, pulled it out right in Tami’s face so that she could not help flinching.  Brightly lit under the spolights, this Godzilla dildo looked even bigger than it actually was, glowing light brown, with the collapsible white ridges along the top, which reminded her of Godzilla’s back and looked as big as the teeth of a shark.

       Tami was sure that McMasters was presenting it this way to shock her.  As for the audience, having individually examined his invention beforehand and hearing his exhaustive explanation of its features, they took this presentation as a matter of course.  Slowly, as if performing a sacred rite, McMasters fitted it onto the metal rod that Mr. Zipkin gave him and screwed the assembly into the hidden cam under the floor of the stage.  Brendo took the little dildo out of the girl’s pussy and got out of the way. As Mr. Zipkin turned the dial, Godzilla, now glistening with the gel from the tiny holes, inched closer to the naked teenager’s little spread pussy, looking far too large for it.

       “Ohhhh .  .  . ”  She could not help moaning, as the Godzilla dildo spread open her lower lips and nudged inside and the ridges rubbed her clit with hard slow flicks as they disappeared into her one by one.  She swallowed and looked up at the wall, at a point somewhere over Henry Ross’s head, as if praying to God to deliver her from this ordeal.  “Ohhh .  .  . ”  Her eyes were opened wide and some drops of sweat appeared on her forehead.  Her pussy lips were stretched wide, wide, wider . . .Dimly she was aware of Henry Ross’s sadistic leer and she tried to look higher up, away from his gaze.

       “Note the obvious signs of arousal,” McMasters said.  “Because there is no sphincter to negotiate, we can insert this dildo pretty much all at once. This dildo, by the way, might appear much larger than the average penis, but that is only an illusion caused by the design.  It is actually only slightly larger than average.  Miss Smithers is sexually experienced and it should be no problem for her to accommodate it.”

       He looked down at the dial that Mr. Zipkin was adjusting.  “We are now at five inches.  A couple of inches more.” He looked up and everyone watched closely as Tami continued to moan.  Then as the flicks continued she emitted a much harsher, lower moan.  “Uhhhh .  .  .” In an attempt to stifle the moan, she clenched her teeth, which resulted only in changing her vocalization into an unearthly gasp, almost a choking sound.  “Kchh . . .  zhh.  .  .  kcchh .  .  .  ” Her eyes widened and the strain of holding in her voice caused veins to stand out on her neck.  The audience could easily see all of this in the bright spotlights.

       “Apparently Miss Smithers is now sensing the ridges on her G-spot inside,” McMasters said.  “Maybe we can refocus the camera,” he said, moving over, “so that it’s on her face to detect the signs of this more intense arousal.” Out of the corner of her eye Tami could see the big image of her contorted face on the TV screen.  She shut her eyes to block it out.

       “Let’s proceed further.  I see we are now at six inches.”

       As a few more ridges disappeared into the naked girl, McMasters continued to lecture dispassionately.  “Unlike with the rectal dildo, this dildo can only go in so far.  At some point it will meet the fornix, or the end of the vagina.  Again, through much practice the vagina can be expanded, but that is not our goal here.  We will simply make contact with the fornix and push a bit more, achieving the maximum possible stability. Mr. Zipkin, where are we at now?”

       “Seven point three inches,” his assistant said, studying the dial.

       “Note again the MRI screen,” he said, turning and pointing to the screen. “You can see here the fornix, it looks like we’re almost there.  “ Fortunately in her state of mind Tami did not think to look.  “The piston rod is equipped with a pressure sensor which causes it to stop automatically when it encounters a certain amount of resistance, consistent with a moderate stretching of the vagina.  In other words,” he repeated, “we will meet the fornix, then push a little more, and that will be it.”

       “Eight point one inches,” Mr. Zipkin reported.  The naked girl’s brow furrowed as if in excruciating agony.  Actually it was the assault of excruciating shame, and the strain of holding in the expression of her mounting arousal.  And the stress of having this huge thing plowing so deeply into her.  She felt totally stuffed as the back of her pussy was stretched, and it made the rear dildo’s stretching of her anal ring more acute and uncomfortable.

       The hum of the machinery beneath the rod stopped.  “We’ve reached the limit,” Mr. Zipkin said.  “Nine point two inches.”

       “Very good,” McMasters said.  “Now, we begin.”  He gave a little signal and Mr. Zipkin pushed a button.  From under the stage came a weird soft whirring sound, a little like a blender.  The Godzilla dildo started to withdraw and the rear dildo slowly began pushing back in.

       It was slow, rhythmic, laborious.  Taking into account the large size of the dildos and the concern about avoiding injury, it could hardly have been otherwise.  The audience was transfixed and silent now, even McMasters and Henry Ross had looks of awe on their faces.  Sawing in, sawing out, the dildos pushed the naked girl’s bound body forward, then back, as much as allowed by the cuffs holding her wrists and ankles in place.  Some people glanced from time to time at the MRI image on the wall, each big, thick white cylinder plunging more than halfway into the slender pelvis, then withdrawing to make room for the other one.

       The naked girl breathed in and then exhaled with each thrust as if the wind were being knocked out of her.  Her breathy grunts were in rhythm with the thrusts.  “Huh! .  .  .  Huh! .  .  .  Huh! .  .  .” Her eyes, looking up at the ceiling, alternated between being squeezed shut and staring bug-eyed in a gripping combination of surprise, fear, desperation, and what looked like agony.  Of course the audience knew that she was in no physical pain, and she wasn’t.  They looked down at her shaking legs, and at her wildly flexing toes, and the sweat that was beginning to pour down her face, and then her concave, laboring tummy .  .  .  A couple of them could swear they could see slight bulges appearing as the head of each dildo pushed to its greatest penetration and then withdrew.

       Tami’s tortured mind was trying to pray.  She felt an orgasm begin to crest.  These dildos were in control of her body now, they were dragging her over the waterfall and there was nothing she could do about it.  In front of these bright lights, this audience, including Ross and Winant, every aspect of her body being recorded, minutely observed .  .  .  In her life of exposure and shame, this was the most extreme yet.

       Sensing the imminent orgasm, McMasters moved to the wall and said, “I almost forgot,” then reached over to pull the cover off the electronic counter.

       The first space -- “orgasms” -- flipped to “1” as Miss Tami Smithers lunged up toward the ceiling, to the extent allowed by her bonds, and grunted in a hoarse voice, “P - p - please -- GOD!!!”