Guinea Pigs

by Peter Marriner

  At every pause in her hasty and athletic passage, Jacqueline’s eyes had gone, not to her captors, but to the rear wall of the maze where a giant clock face showed a single, slowly sweeping hand. By now the hand was nearing a sector painted red on the dial. Looking towards it, Jacqueline seemed to speed up her pace, visibly sweating despite her naked state. At every full revolution of the wheel a bell rang, one ring, then two and then three. Jacqueline staggered and reached out with her hands to a moving rung, so that she was scrambling almost upon all fours as she continued. For the first time she looked frantically towards the researcher.

  Madame Duong punched a button. The wheel stopped abruptly and Jacqueline pitched forward hard onto her nose. She recovered quickly and, climbing the stationary rungs up the inside of the now locked wheel, emerged out at the apex of the appliance to wriggle head first through yet another small elevated door. Her descent from this into the last chamber was effected by way of a metal chute like a children’s playground slide down which she went with a rush, still head first, sliding with only breasts and belly for a cushion.

  She was now separated from her tormentors only by a single mesh wall. A stout wooden bench, oddly irregular, with a leather padded top, stood before her in the centre of this cage. In line with it was a more extraordinary piece of apparatus, a huge lifelike model of a wild boar. It stood as if in the act of leaping, its long snout pointing downward between its forelegs, vicious curved tusks projecting. The skin seemed to have been taken from the real beast and along its arched back ran a bristling ridge of hair ending in an up-curve of flaunted bristles.

  Jacqueline let out a wailing cry. Moving as if she was on her last legs she ran half-crouching past the leather bench and threw herself onto her knees under the rearing boar. Beneath its smooth belly dangled two realistic testicles and before them a short bullet-shaped projection that gleamed bright red. Grovelling beneath the giant hog, Jacqueline reached out to grip the two round balls one in either hand, then using them for support, put her parted lips to the red bullet. Her blonde head moved back and forth, gently at first and then with increasing vigour. Throwing it further and further back, she showed bulging cheeks and slowly lengthening, as if growing from between her lips, a long, thick, glistening pinkish-white corkscrew of artificial pig-cock.

  A gong sounded. Jacqueline scrambled backwards, her rear end waggling in the air, her red mouth hanging open. Her eyes flew to the huge clock where the hand hovered on the edge of red. She hurled herself at the bench, fortunately bolted to the floor, diving over the nearest end. The bench was tilted and she landed with her backside perched over the high end and her head and shoulders projecting over the lower. She gripped the front legs of the bench and craned to look over her shoulder, where with a snorting sound, the immense black bulk of the artificial boar was sliding towards her. Below its belly the wet, whitish-pink, corkscrew penis slanted downwards, bouncing slightly in a rubbery fashion, its reddened point now extruded to the length of a woman’s forearm from its thick base.

  “The reward for a clever sow is to be put to the boar!” Madame Duong giggled.

  “Surely she can’t take all that!” her husband commented, taking in its sheer length.

  “Nonsense!” Madame said tranquilly. “It’s the first time you have seen this. That corkscrewing pig prick may give her a hard time but once she has the ‘Hot’ drug at work in her, she’ll really love it!”

  In the cage, with mouth open and eyes wide, Jacqueline had hollowed her back and lifted her bottom, squirming her naked hips so as to take the advance of that phenomenal protrusion between her parted thighs. The clock had now stopped.

  Madame Duong’s red nail punched a button on her remote control. The simulated snorts coming from the hulking model slowly increased in speed, while the woman began to squeal in evident distress and shame.

  “You little devil!’ the General said. “You’ve made her take it cold turkey!”

  “Scientific necessity!” his evil partner claimed heartlessly. “The effects of the drug can only be measured against a test case with a placebo.”

  She made a note of the time then, drawing her white coat about her, rose to take up a long spear-like appliance with a butt and trigger at one end and a sharp point at the other. Extending the pointed end through the bars, she pressed the trigger. Jacqueline jerked with a squeal.

  With a greedy intensity of depravity, the experimenter punched another button on her remote and watched Jacqueline helplessly grovelling and groaning in shame as the mechanical beast slowly retreated and drew out from her an endless length of curly wet cock. Madame gave vent to a volley of bawdy giggles as if stimulated by the performance of this unnatural act and proud of her own cruel ingenuity in staging it.

  “It will not take long before she is ready for another round. She will get faster, too. She will take a lot more of this. The machine of course is inexhaustible.”

  “You have a human male too,” Bha Duong reminded her. “The husband.”

  “As is well established.” Her black eyes challenged him. “A female performs better than a male when subjected to repeated orgasms. Even with the aid of the ‘Hot’ drug, a man can do no better under test than to treble his previous record. Moreover, such sexual feats rapidly wear him out and he has to be replaced. Without multiple partners 1F has to be trained to the machine in order to be the subject of more experiments.”

  She let her gaze linger upon the stockily built masculine figure of the General, sprawled on the ornate couch in a loosely tied silk dressing gown, her eyes glittering with uncharacteristic excitement. Her own prim white technician’s coat had fallen open to reveal a skimpy garment of half-transparent black lace, clearly all she was wearing beneath it. Despite her claim to scientific objectivity, with the General having been so long absent from her, she intended to mix some pleasure with her business.

  The General from the couch and Madame at the desk, watched with relish as Jacqueline set off on another round of the maze running against the clock until she reached the boar again. Once more, the naked white figure humped hard up against the rigid black beast, this time almost as if welded to it. Shapely female limbs projected at angles, extending fingers and toes that curled and worked expressively. Little of her expression could be made out beneath the curtain of drifting hair, except that her cheeks were flushed scarlet and her mouth agape. Only the wild incoherent cries that emerged from it revealed her ecstatic reaction this time as the mechanically driven animal stretched her to the limit. Bha Duong’s cruel eyes switched from Jacqueline’s postured helplessness to his wife’s excited arousal. With a gesture he invited Madame to join him.

  “Do you plan to use the man at all tonight?”

  Madame Duong sprawled wantonly on the couch, looking past the naked back of her man, who was bending over a small table, busy with glasses and bottles. Her black eyes glinted as she watched the noisy coupling in the cage, the mechanical snorting and the female participant still squealing as she worked up towards another orgasm. The General handed his wife a glass, imported brandy just come up by the caravan. She sipped absently, fixed upon the unnatural coupling as Jacqueline passed her point of release and sagged limply beneath the arching bulk of the pseudo boar.

  “I reserve him for special treats.” Entwined together on the couch, Bha Duong and Madame switched their interest from the experiment to their own coupling.

  At the end of that session, as Madame Duong lazily summoned the laboratory attendant to remove the exhausted victim she had remarked. “For the next tests, F1, you are to have a human partner.”

  It gave Jacqueline little excitement. If anything, she supposed that they meant to use Roger again. She had only once, in a moment of clarity, bravely pressed to know what had become of her husband. Madame Duong had taken her to see. In the animal testing laboratory, rows of small straw-filled pens held grunting, snuffling pigs, the earliest test a
nimals for the new drug. In one of the pens, quite undistinguishable from the rest, Roger crouched in the straw. From a distance, Jacqueline saw him taken out, his keeper wielding the whip behind him, to be collared and leashed, and given a booster shot, handled with as much ease and lack of ceremony by the stocky, bad-tempered looking female attendant as she would have one of the animals.

  Madame used Jacqueline’s collar to tether her in the same pen, chained to a metal ring in the rear wall, kneeling in the dirty straw with her wrists secured behind her back by the leather cuffs. Presently Roger was re-introduced to the pen by his attendant, a crowd of her colleagues, giggling and seeming rather tipsy, leaning over the side walls of the pen as if anticipating some entertainment. The women had cruelly manacled his wrists behind him, before they stripped him of his cock case and let go his leash. Uncased, his swollen member was horrible to behold, so raw and misshapen had it become. His eyes glared wild and red-rimmed beneath his shaggy thatch, fixed upon Jacqueline as he scurried forward in an ungainly shuffle, lunged and fell upon her unresisting figure.

  Jacqueline tried to help his clumsy thrusts, her shrill encouragement accompanying Roger’s agonised bellowing as time and again, he slid off her back, or slipped out of the crevice he was aiming for. To add to his difficulties the women poked and prodded both parties alike. At last, he managed to complete his union in this bestial manner and then, with Madame’s amused indulgence, they rewarded him by leaving Jacqueline in place for the rest of the evening to milk him all the way to complete satiation.

  Vanessa Fairbush lay staring at her own familiar mirrored image. The mirror was mounted high above, on the rock ceiling of her cell. If she turned her head, she would see the whole of one side of the cell formed by a metal grille, from which she was open to ready inspection like an animal in a zoo. The whole set-up gave her the feeling of being mercilessly exposed to her keepers’ view from every angle. In the mirror, she could see herself sprawled, near naked, shapely and long limbed. Untrimmed hair, grown long and lustrous, tumbled wildly in dark tendrils about her shoulders. Even her eyes were changed, staring back at her from amid the disarray, large and terrified, betraying her inner turmoil. Spasmodically she gave a squirm, biting her lips as she fought to ignore the strange and unwelcome feelings surging within her.

  The sight of her own feminine curves seemed to exacerbate those feelings and she tried once again to thrust her fingers beneath the harsh leather of the chastity belt that was all that she wore. It was a fruitless effort. She cupped her heavy breasts in trembling palms; they too seemed to throb and ache, the fat nipples stiff and enlarged, incredibly sensitive. Her whole body had taken on a tingling sensitivity. Between her thighs it was even worse for the belt prevented any solace there. Her vagina felt like a yawning chasm aching to be filled; yet by contrast her throbbing pubic mound seemed to have swollen to football size, pressing hard against the stiff leather.

  With an effort, Vanessa tore her eyes away from the spectacle of her own nudity, rolling over with a sob on the thick foam rubber mat, curling herself into a trembling ball. Images of lust still thrust into her mind however hard she tried to suppress them. What had seemed at first an expression of her fantasy had become a horrible reality. She could no longer deny what had been done with her in so short a time.

  She had arrived by way of a caravan loaded with boxes inscribed with Chinese characters, after a perilous journey over trails half obscured by landslides, through mountains that were infested by bandits and rebel armies. General Bha Duong was out on the entrance platform, supervising the stowing away of the loads into the storage chambers of the rock. She was unloaded from the mule on which she had been transported, with her wrists and ankles fastened below its belly and the head of the caravan respectfully invited his employer to inspect her.

  “She was purchased from some peasants in a mountain hamlet.”

  “How did they come by her?”

  “She was given to them by the gods!” The man guffawed. “They are ignorant people. They think that the Catastrophe that is expected is intended by the gods to punish the wicked on earth and destroy their evil machines and that they will be spared because of their simple life. She actually came from a big aircraft that had crashed in the bamboo forest about the time the civil war started in the cities. I saw where it had landed. She must have been the only survivor. The people claimed that only a few dead men were found in the wreckage although it was a machine with many seats.”

  “An airliner, perhaps with only the crew on board,” the General speculated. “Crashed while trying to return to its home base before the trouble started. Perhaps even shot down in the confusion. She would be an air stewardess presumably.”

  “The peasants were quite reluctant to sell her but since they were running short of human food due to the disruption of the war, they traded her for a mule, which would be easier to feed. She is not much to look at, but no doubt she will fatten up. ”

  His employer nodded. “You did rightly, we can well spare the mule. There will be no more caravans until the Catastrophe has passed and the world is reorganised, Madame has more use for her.”

  There was no doubt that Vanessa at that moment had only been the shadow of the shapely flight attendant she had once been. She was thin and whip-wealed, her breasts sagged over visible ribs and the muscles in her long legs would have fitted an Olympic distance runner.

  “Her hair will grow back,” her captor remarked. “The peasants were using her like a donkey, they tied it up in two plaits so that they could guide her with them like reins. Being one of the wicked, she did not understand their commands, you see.”

  Bha Duong gestured to the skinny, haggard old man at his elbow. “Lim here will take charge of her.”

  The old Oriental bowed, summoning to his assistance a pair of uniformed women, waiting, blank-faced, a short distance off, who lifted Vanessa to her feet, and hustled her after the man as he climbed one of the timber stairways up the rock-face. The stair ended on one of the horizontal hanging galleries higher up. One side of the gallery opened onto a long recess cut out of the rock face. Here, steel grilles had been used to divide the space into a series of cages, each with a rock roof and floor, with rock for the other walls, mirrors above making the interior fully visible. The naked occupants were all women, European in features, each wearing no more than a sort of chastity belt of leather and metal about her loins and between her legs. Calling Vanessa’s attention to them, the old man addressed her.

  “Here you see our earlier guinea-pigs.” The eyes surveying Vanessa had a dark gleam, like water on black pebbles. “The product we sell must be researched and tested; just as in the pre-Catastrophe world a manufacturer would test a new cosmetic, or a new headache cure. The best test animal for a product meant to be for human use is another human. We were fortunate enough to have this supply. These women have served to test and refine the product, which you are now to test in its final version. How fortunate you are in being one of the last, you will see here. Now that the undesirable effects have been eliminated, you may serve us for years.”

  They had halted before the first cage. The woman in the cage squatted on a mattress of foam rubber on the floor and regarded them blankly. She looked to be past middle age by her greying hair and lined face yet her naked body belied her looks, belly firm and unwrinkled, breasts and bottom full but un-sagging.

  “This is Anne,” Lim said. “Do not be misled by the grey hairs. She is only thirty-one. Non-stop orgasms, rapidly repeated and continuing to eventual collapse soon turn a girl grey. In balance, however, as you can see, a side effect of the drug is to enhance the sexual character of the figure. On the male too, you will find,” he sniggered. “Anne was unwisely planted by narcotics investigators as an agent in one of our distribution networks. Naturally we eliminated her in the way most useful to us, by bringing her here as a guinea pig. She is merely vegetative now. She remembers nothing,
and thinks of nothing. Twenty men, a hundred, could use her now, one after another. She would feel neither emotion nor reaction. She is exactly like one of those inflatable sex-dolls.”

  They moved Vanessa on past the blank-faced Anne. The girl in the next cage came tottering at once to the bars. She clutched them with one hand, unsteadily, giggling, with wide blue eyes, sucking the thumb of the other hand like a child. She was a tall nubile girl in her mid-twenties, with long blonde hair, enormous breasts and a great bush of gingery hair bursting from both edges of her pubic guard.

  “You see this wide-eyed innocent? This is Sandra. Mentally she is only an infant, barely out of nappies. She doesn’t talk; merely gurgles and cries, but she can still orgasm. She came to Hong Kong as a nanny to a rich businessman’s family. She was reckless enough to fall in love with one of our couriers and unfortunate enough to become an embarrassment to him.”

  Vanessa was forced onward by the pitiless escort, even though she tried to pull back from the successive horrors revealed. They came to the last cage.

  “This is Patricia, who was once a secretary at the American embassy in the capital. She is quite savage now, as you see. She fell hopelessly in love with our master, the General, and even aspired to share this mountain kingdom with him.” The ancient Oriental cackled with laughter. “Madame had other plans. She found another use for the deluded idiot.” The dark haired girl in the cage, slim and lithe, but with the same enormous breasts, tumbling mass of hair and luxuriant pubic bush as the others, crouched on the bare floor of the cage. She snarled wordlessly at the watchers like a wild animal, shaking her tangled hair Medusa-like, her great tits heaving and bouncing with her fury.

  “A savage passion!” Lim commented sardonically. “Who in her Embassy would have recognised her like this?”