Guinea Pigs

by Peter Marriner

  The woman reflected, her hand on his sleeve. “We are well placed to survive it here at any rate. Meanwhile it gives me more time for experimental work.” She turned calmly to examine the shamed pair crouching before her, awaiting attention. Both were still bound and gagged and Roger still wore the heavy brass collar that had been put on him at the inn.

  “These are the two creatures you are giving me as experimental animals?”

  “Two white mice, perhaps?” the General suggested.

  “Guinea pigs!” she smiled.

  Bha Duong’s part in the drug trade had been a modest one, merely serving to allay the suspicion and hostility of the Reds who forbore to interfere with a trade that so embarrassed their enemies in the Western world. It had been the acquisition of his wife’s special skills that enabled the General to replace his waning political assets with the upgrading of his drug production.

  Madame Duong was an American by birth, with high qualifications as a biochemist. Beth Ho, as she then was, had been involved in right wing libertarian politics, using her talents illegally to work upon racially linked toxins. Involved in a mass contamination incident, she was betrayed by a female friend and the brilliant promise of her career ruined, her research records destroyed in response to public revulsion, she herself sentenced to a term of imprisonment. Exposed to brutal treatment from guards and fellow prisoners alike, she finally escaped with the aid of a smuggled gun and fled the country, carrying with her a lasting hatred. She took refuge in Thailand where she had contacts and where she was recognised by the General whom she had met a few years earlier during a field trip to study the biology of the mountain poppies. She found in him a bold and unscrupulous spirit whose organising ability and charisma would supplement her own colder and more calculating brain. He, for his part, recognising that her brains were far better than his, gave her a safe haven in his mountain stronghold and the chance to exercise her talents upon managing efficient drug production from his opium crop.

  In the valley he had a supply of raw material and in his rock fortress a safe and well-equipped facility for both storage and processing. The very fact of his ability to process on the spot had the advantage of reducing to one twentieth the weight of the product to be transported down to the plains, so that the General’s part in the traffic was made inconspicuous and his caravans safer and more lucrative. His peasant suppliers, sharing in that prosperity, adulated both he and Madame as wise and benevolent rulers.

  Madame, the ultimate source of these golden advantages, soon grew bored with mere efficiency of production. Foreseeing the possibility that the catastrophe might turn out to be such a worldwide disaster as to badly disrupt their trade to the countries of the developed world, she bent her talents to developing a drug that would be sought after, even in unsophisticated or survivor societies. Planned originally as a simple aphrodisiac, it had developed into a more revolutionary product.

  Separated from her husband, Jacqueline was left to recover from the rigours of her transportation and the effects of two heavy doses of the latest form of the drug, isolated in a cell cut deep into the rock off one of the upper galleries. It had been turned into a secure prison by the addition across the open side of a heavy metal grille set solidly into the rock. Jacqueline’s despairing efforts to contact her husband or attract the attention of other possible prisoners by calling along the gallery on either hand brought no response, so that she was forced to conclude that she was in solitary confinement. Moon-faced women in olive drab uniforms came with meals and to clean the simple but effective sanitation, a slot cut in the rock floor with an enamelled lid. Always there were two of them, tending Jacqueline with the impersonal assiduity of zoo-keepers. They appeared to understand no English and rejected all her timid attempts at friendly overtures, making swift recourse to the short canes they carried if she made any move to interfere with them. Beyond the low outer wall of the gallery, she could see only opposing mountainside with a strip of blue sky above. It looked quite close, but once she saw tiny moving dots and puzzled out at last by their motion, that the dots were grazing goats, seen a long way off in the clear air.

  On the second day Madame Duong paid a brief visit with two of the uniformed women as her assistants, for the purpose of fitting Jacqueline with the collar, anklets and cuffs they had brought with them. These were of soft leather over an inner core of woven brass wire, as it transpired. Fitting as snugly as though she had been measured for them, they were all locked in place with a tiny gilt key that Madame tucked away under the white coat, suspended on a gold chain round her neck like a love charm. As before, neither of the two subordinates paid any attention to Jacqueline’s attempt at communication and Madame, whom Jacqueline knew did understand, made her own attitude amply clear. At her direction the other two seized Jacqueline and, forcing her face down upon the narrow foam-lined bunk, gave her a quick half dozen across her backside with the cane.

  “Guinea pigs only squeak! You will remember that in future!”

  The purpose of these restraints was soon made clear. To Madame Duong’s well-equipped laboratory deeper within the rock, the new specimen Jacqueline Raven, now redesignated F1 was delivered, to be put through tests. She was posed upon a wide bench-top under the glare of the strip lights. Naked except for the leather straps enclosing wrists and ankles and the leather collar around her neck, she was humped in a V-shaped posture, face downwards and bottom up, with the straps on her wrists buckled to those on the corresponding ankles and both fastened to a pair of widely separated ringbolts. She knelt, temporarily unattended like a piece of apparatus for which the experimenter was not yet ready and her white body, thus involuntarily postured, quivered visibly as she anticipated the ice-cold cruelty with which she was likely to be used.

  Quivers of more than dread passed through her body. Between her legs the familiar build-up of the hot drug had rendered her sexual parts throbbing and swollen. From time to time she wriggled uneasily, spreading her elevated bottom cheeks in an attempt to expose more of their heated surfaces to cool relief. Up until a few minutes before, she had been subjected to the restrictive clasp of the chastity belt, disabled from finding her own mode of release. Now she was unlocked and nakedly exposed, but even more firmly restrained. She could only wait with a fading sense of shame, forced to contemplate, before her crazy need became too all-engrossing, what vile means she would be forced to accept as the way to orgasm. For, of course, Madame never bothered to inform a mere guinea pig of the plan and purpose of her experiments. Jacqueline was only aware that all too soon she would lose all her remaining reserve and be ready to take on whatever was put to her, man or beast, to assuage her pill-induced lust.

  Thighs wide, bottom high, chin to the marble surface of the small platform, on which she was posed, Jacqueline waited and endured. Half extruded from beneath her rib cage, her swollen breasts bulged sideways, resembling two plump squashy cushions, the stiff nipples poking out ripe and red like swollen strawberries, throbbing for attention. As with the rich mass of glossy hair that spilled luxuriantly about her head and shoulders and cascaded across the marble, their condition was a side effect of the drug. Madame had been weighing and measuring their growth daily, and had already put Jacqueline upon a milking machine to alleviate their swelling burden.

  The hard tap of heels heralded the experimenter’s approach making her subject tremble in immediate trepidation. The quick feet halted behind Jacqueline and she squealed involuntarily as unsympathetic fingers probed and prodded her swollen vagina. She writhed in vain beneath the treatment as they were spread wide. She felt the cold air for a moment as her vagina gaped open and then it was filled tight with something solid and inanimate. The thing was being insinuated into her, chill, slick and rubbery, fitting tight, yet working smoothly into her hot channel as if it oozed its own lubrication. Deeper and deeper it sank, Jacqueline groaning and whimpering with every inch until it filled her, full, tight and unyielding. She
wept tears of frustration beneath her curtain of tumbled hair. Of all things, a dildo was the least likely to give her quick satisfaction. Was this all she was getting with which to counter the overwhelming pressure of the drug, a clumsy, bottom heavy dildo?

  There was a pause. Jacqueline could feel the weight of the thing sagging between her thighs. She gave an experimental wriggle. Evidently Madame still had hold of its butt. Why didn’t she start? Was Jacqueline expected to beg for it? She began to panic, feeling the taut straps holding her fast, the heavy shaft jerking painfully in her vaginal channel.

  “Keep still!” A slim hand spanked her sharply. Jacqueline whimpered in submission. She felt the Chinese woman rise from a crouch behind her, still gripping the dildo-butt. There was a clunk and then a click, an oddly familiar sound. In that second, Jacqueline recognised it, the sound of a plug pushed into a power point and switched on. When the motor began to work, she knew the rest. The dildo was power operated. The pistol butt, like that of a power drill, held a powerful motor. Where the drill-head would have been was what now filled her so intimately, a monstrous replica in the shape of a male penis.

  What had been inert and solid within her began to move and slide, slowly at first and then with gathering speed, out and in, out and in. As it slid, so it turned and twisted, swirling its rugged contours around Jacqueline’s already sensitive channel until it was reaming her juicy core like a rock drill raping a golden lode. She whimpered helplessly under the mechanical stimulus, her mind flitting between dismay and ecstasy. She felt its gathering speed with rising excitement that overwhelmed her dismay. It jerked a little as it speeded up forcing a little squeak of alarm from her, until a cool feminine hand clapped down reassuringly firmly upon her bare rump. Madame was holding her steady with one hand, the machine firmly gripped in the other. It slithered wetter and wetter within her as it reamed her faster and faster, providing its own lubrication for the inhuman pace. Jacqueline squealed in response, feeling the walls of her sex-slot slip and slide, as she tried to clasp the intrusion tighter.

  Faster and deeper too and little prickles of electrical shock came off its length, sending quivers of reaction down through belly and thighs. Jacqueline mewed like a kitten under the fiendish titillation, mouth agape. It went on and on, mechanical and unflagging. The heavy motor seemed to disseminate an aura of heat within her thighs and bottom. Held by a steady fist, it thrust its humanoid piston, massive and inexorable, surging solidly between the stretched lips of her swollen vagina, sticky from the seep of lubricating fluid that ran down to clot the pussy hairs below.

  Mechanical. Unflagging. For Jacqueline there was to be no escaping the inevitable consequences. It was Madame’s trigger finger that controlled her now. As long as the experimenter kept her slender forefinger firmly crooked, so the endless process would continue. Jacqueline would be brought to gasping and wailing orgasm, collapsing with relief, only to be slowly reheated and set off again by the inexorable finger. And made to repeat it, time after time solely for the experimenter’s purposes.

  Jacqueline was made to realise that the purpose for her doses of the hot drug and her use for her captors were more than mere revenge. Furnished to her regularly at first, the drug was now given or withheld at the whim of the experimenter. She was indeed a human guinea pig. There were intervals of temporary clarity and strength of purpose, immediately after she had completed a session, when she felt she could stop, refuse to submit to another and defy her captors to force the drug upon her. But that resolve inevitably evaporated as the orgasm-induced relief wore off. Little by little, gnawing pains, internal cramp and mental distress would break her down, until she pleaded for the shot that cured them. Then having got it, there ensued the incredible build-up of lust and with it the need for sexual usage to the point where she howled for the means to be given her to achieve orgasm. She would persuade herself that such relief would strengthen her, which just given her once more would suffice to give her a breathing space to conquer the need. But it was like fighting a monster with two heads; no sooner had she cut off one head, than the other raised itself afresh.

  At the final stage, her captors had let her go without release for several days. That had her crawling on the floor of the cell, clawing at her chastity belt, her loins jerking and quivering in involuntary spasms, moaning and keening with unrequited lust until, desperate with the unreleased urgency of the hot drug, she managed to get her finger-tips under the groin strap of the belt. Straining all her muscles, and exerting strength she hadn’t known she possessed, she ripped it in two.

  She was discovered then, kneeling on the stone floor, gasping and sobbing, with the straps still uselessly fast about her waist and the broken pieces dangling, frigging herself into frantic orgasm. They dealt promptly with her and she was spread-eagled to the bars of her cell, while they prepared a stouter belt. That time, when Madame Duong came to collect her, Jacqueline had been reduced to gibbering humility, grovelling on her belly as she begged to be allowed a man.

  “Nothing so clumsily unscientific!” Madame had said coolly. So the experiments had progressed.

  Until once more in the brightly lit sex-laboratory, Jacqueline was on test. In her usual posture, this time she was on a broad bench top. Right behind her, Madame had positioned a tall machine like a wheeled metal filing cabinet, from which there emerged two gleaming steel shafts, poking at oddly variant angles, and best resembling two rock-coring drills. Drills however, that ended in surging, slow twisting, hard-cored, hot-knobbed, dildos. Both were in action, drilling Jacqueline to the core, front and rear holes simultaneously and with mechanical efficiency. Beneath her, electrodes clipped to her stiffened and swollen nipples with trailing wires going to a machine that sent rhythmic electrical ripples quivering through her breasts in tune with the vibrant surging of the mechanised shafts.

  Jacqueline’s body quivered beneath the steady to and fro titillation. The straps limited her response to an equally steady rhythmic squirming supplemented by little breathless moans. Her eyes were tight closed and her mouth open. She panted like a bitch in heat and below her on the bench top, a little puddle had formed where a trickle of lubricant escaping from her anus, had run down the cleft of her cheeks and joined the seepage from her vagina to drip off her pussy-hairs.

  On test in this fashion, Jacqueline was being brought up to orgasm with machine-controlled efficiency, while the experimenter, stopwatch in hand, coolly studied the reactions and timed their duration. At first a single dildo machine had been used, drilling the guinea pig victim by the normal orifice. Now she was subjected to a double acting machine working in unison throughout the action. Presently the experiments would go on with the added provision of an artificial penis for Jacqueline to suck upon. She was to be tested with each alone and in different combinations. The electrodes too were to be tested for their effect, alone and in combination with the penetrators. The current was varied, and the electrodes were tried on her vaginal labia. She was to be tested with wet dildos and with dry, at fast speeds and at slow. With all of the apparatus, Jacqueline could be brought to react sooner or later. At the peak of her need, she even responded to the realistic feel of the artificial cock sliding silkily at blood heat, as she sucked gently upon its length.

  Illuminated by bright disc lights, the vast echoing space of a cavern was almost filled with the gleaming metalwork that constituted Madame Duong’s animal testing maze. Contained and supported within a framework of polished steel tubes, a complex web of intersecting diamond-mesh walls formed a series of square boxes like cages, most of them again containing complex collections of bars and grids.

  In the space left unenclosed stood a metal desk covered with papers and, incongruously, an ornate couch upon which General Bha Duong lounged, watching Jacqueline who, naked in the midst of this maze, was worming her way quickly on her belly through an internal tunnel. By his side Madame, in her white coat, held a stopwatch and a clipboard in her scarlet
painted fingernails.

  Jacqueline wriggled out the end of the tunnel, emerging into one of the mesh cages. Coming erect she leapt upwards, reaching at full stretch, breasts bouncing. Her objective was a cross bar overhead. Gripping it she hauled herself up, reaching automatically for the next one, climbing one after another with prehensile fingers and toes, like a slender white ape except for her cascade of blonde hair, until she was almost in the darkness near the roof. Standing upon the topmost bar with one bare foot curled over the shiny metal and hanging one-handed from some grip well above her head, she extended her free leg, almost doing the splits, her upper thighs hollowed with the strain, her pubic bush prominently displayed. She was reaching out, fishing with wriggling toes at the opposite mesh wall.

  With a clang a square of the mesh fell outward from that wall to land horizontally, forming a small square platform. Jacqueline hesitated only a second then, gathering herself together, leapt across the gap. She landed with a thump, feet together, on the edge of the platform and, her upper half still going forward, fell in a dive through the square opening so that she folded over its lower edge with an audible gasp.

  She made no attempt to straighten but continued her dive and jack-knifing straight over the edge and into space, head downward. The whole floor space of the cage was occupied by a trampoline, upon which she bounced as she landed, turning a somersault and ending on her feet. The trampoline shot her upwards and she made three successive bounces, hair floating wide until she was high enough to catch the first of a sequence of dangling steel rings with which she swung herself hand over hand to reach the farther wall, wriggling there through another opening and sliding down a rope into a new box.

  The only exit from this enclosure was by way of a circular wheel-like structure. Jacqueline staggered to it, wriggled into the wheel, white bottom bobbing, and began walking with long quick strides, using her hands on the passing sides of the turning apparatus to keep herself erect.