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Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 01

By: JMaxwell69



I awoke groggily with cotton-mouth, and then had an intense start. Have you ever woken up in a strange place - a hotel room, on a drinking buddy's couch, the's guest bedroom, etc. - and you experienced a momentary jolt in the lower registers of panic that subsides almost immediately upon remembering where you are and how you got there? This was similar, but instead of a wave of relief, as I looked around, my panic rose toward some elusive crescendo.

I was in what seemed to be a polycarbonate - that strong clear plastic - box that was suspended, who knows how, so as to allow bright light to be projected in from all six sides simultaneously. Because of this light, I could not see anything outside the box despite the material's transparency. The box was both a little taller and a bit longer than a coffin, but was about twice as wide. This extra space contained a woman lying next to me in the box still unconscious. 

The woman was completely nude, which, I should note, mirrored my own state. As a gentleman, I will note that I made no efforts to see her most intimate parts and my cursory glance resulted in seeing nothing private besides the outline of her overall form. Though the woman faced me, she was positioned partially curled up and laying halfway between being on her side and her stomach and she had an arm tucked into her chest and the knee of her closest leg was stretched up and between us so as to touch the bottom of the box with the inside of the bent knee. This leg obscured her nether region. I was, in fact, quite pleased that the woman was covered up because I was myself mortified to be in the presence of the naked stranger. I didn't know her, and she didn't even look familiar - except to the degree that many people look vaguely like someone else you've seen. She was about my age, which is to say in her thirties, had short dark brown hair, and smooth skin that was neither darkly tanned nor pale. The outline of her curves was admittedly graceful and pleasing to the eye. 

I heard a faint noise outside the box. It was like a cough, but not precisely. The apparently "biological" nature of the sound reminded me that, though I could not see out, anyone outside the box would have an excellent view of the inside. This realization startled me, and I immediately reached down to cover my nether region while unthinkingly moving to sit up. Of course, I didn't get more than half of the way to a seated position before my forehead careened into the almost invisible top of the box. This resulted in my unknown "coffin-mate" suddenly regaining consciousness. Needless to say, she had the same panicked reaction as mine, but multiplied by some factor explained by the two-fold disadvantage she suffered. First, I awoke with an unconscious person next to me, and, therefore, the threat factor within the box was minimal even while the weirdness factor was off the charts. She, on the other hand, awoke with a conscious and moving person next to her in this confined space who had made a loud and reverberating thump for a reason unknown to her. She had no time to determine what the objective of my motion was. Second, at the risk of sounding sexist but intending only to be objectively truthful, a delicate woman finding herself unexpectedly naked with a strange man is quite likely to be more fearful than a man finding himself naked with a strange woman, all else being equal. 

I tried to reassure the woman as she started to scream bloody murder and thrashed about to keep me at bay, not realizing that I had no intention of doing anything other than keeping my distance. She was immediately at a loss as to whether she should use her limbs to try to lash out at me, no doubt reasonably assuming that I was the cause of her current predicament, or to cover herself. There were a series of thuds as heels, elbows, and knuckles bounced off the box as we both awkwardly alternated between covering while she attacked and I defended. Ultimately, I kept my open palms facing her direction to fend off blows while showing her my hands in an attempt to put her mind at ease. 

As she started to calm down there was a series of three loud electronic beeps that her perplexed expression showed she did not know what to make of any more than did I. Now I would like to think that, with pride in my species, what happened next was exemplary of humanity's advanced rapid capacity for rational problem solving. However, the pure fact of it was that it was an example of conditioned response learning - like mice and mazes or rats and feeder-machine levers. 

A severe pain began building in my head, and, I could see by her reactions, my co-captive was inflicted in the same manner. It was clear we were both experiencing the same type of pain because we both took our hands to our heads instinctively, and were no longer worrying about covering up, attacking, or defending. The pain became the one and only threat. Putting our hands on our heads, of course, did no good whatsoever. The pain just became more intense, like the sound does as someone gradually turns up the volume on a stereo. I cannot even convey the nature of the pain except to say that readers experienced with migraine headaches might be able to comprehend the pain, but only if they ever had their skulls in a bear trap simultaneous to a particularly bad headache. Eventually, writhing in pain and completely incognizant of each other's presence, we each rolled toward the middle of the box. As our outer thighs and arms touched, the pain subsided dramatically. Of course, the touching of naked flesh combined with the reduced pain caused us to become aware of each other once more, and we each pushed away to opposite sides of the box, but, as we moved apart, the pain again became excruciating. 

Now this was the point at which I would like to be able to say that I reasoned that we needed to be closer to avoid the pain, but I honestly couldn't think with that pain in my head anymore than a goldfish can solve partial differential equations. Yet we both reflexively migrated toward the middle of the box again, and, when we ended up in the awkward kind of embrace of strangers caught up in the same tragedy, the pain was momentarily completely gone. It was an uneasy instant of pressed flesh. We started to break apart only to find the pain increasing once more. It may have been at this point that it became apparent to both of us what our mutual tormentors were after. We embraced again in a more committed manner and experienced another instant of peace before the pain resumed at low but steadily rising intensity. The mystery woman kissed me in a furtive shy manner. It was clearly an experiment. Again the pain disappeared. However, after a few seconds the pain resumed as the most minor of discomfort but gradually and steadily climbed. This time the pain was turned down by my hand cupping the side of the woman's breast. I used my palm to caress her nipple and then ran the hand down her side, over her hip, and then rubbed her butt. In this way we were lead to progressively more intimate acts by rising tides of pain that would, in time, become so uncomfortable as to overcome our natural reluctance to be sexually familiar with a stranger and would lead one of us to experiment with the other's body. 

When the pain began to resume, I felt the woman's hand touching me hesitantly in a manner that advanced the process of my rising eagerness. My arousal bought freedom from the pain. I reached downward, and the woman, who was seemingly giving in to the demands of the situation, splayed her knees apart and accepted a light touch of my hand. She was not yet ready, but some soft gentle massaging motions yielded a gradual flow. 

By this point we were no longer waiting for the pain to build, but, rather, had been successfully trained to do what our unseen tormentors were clearly demanding of us. The woman moved astride me with her back nearly touching the top of the clear plastic box. She slid her wet slit over my swollen hardness, and, after a couple of rubbing motions with her tilting pelvis, she gently sank herself onto my shaft. My hands alternated between her pert breasts and her smooth round buttocks. 

Even at this point, we did not look each other in the eye. There developed a sort of unspoken mutual agreement not to do so, nor to speak. In an odd sort of way, this gave us each a kind of privacy to suffer our embarrassment. It was our attempt to not be made complicit in the perversions of our unseen oppressors, even while we were central to them. Our actions were an odd combination of mechanistic compliance and animalistic desire that we each needed to get through but which we tried to conceal by rationalization of the apparent lack of any choice in the matter. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck and chest as she rode me. I ran my fingers into her short silky hair and pulled her mouth to mine. We kissed with mouths becoming progressively more open to each other. The warmth of her soft bosoms pressed against my chest felt somehow comforting in this, otherwise, surreal adventure. 

She could tell I was getting close to release. I could feel her muscles contract on me pleasantly in conjunction with a brief awkward smile as our eyes met briefly for the first time. No doubt she was hoping to get this over with, and her apparently voluntary contractions signaled that it was alright for me to cum inside her. My mind was numb, having abandoned reality but having nothing else to cling to. I was not the most religious man, but the gratuitous decadence of my unexpected predicament was a hard pill to swallow. Even the biggest sluts exchange greetings and first names before getting to this point, don't they? Here we were, two ostensibly typical people, and I was about to deposit a load of semen in her without the slightest insight into who this woman was or how we had gotten here.

She continued to ride my manhood, and I slid a hand into the tight space between us and rubbed her tender hood vigorously with a fingertip. As I was finishing my release, she began hers. She lost control of her body and began to shudder wildly. I was worried that when we completed the act the pain might resume, but our puppet-master seemed satisfied with our performance. Perhaps the goal was the woman's insemination. As she rolled off onto her side, and I turned to my side as well facing her. 

The box went completely dark. An odd, sickly-sweet, scent indicated a gas of some sort was being pumped into the box. We each coughed softly.

Despite the coughing, I managed to ask a question, "What is your name?"

"L..." That was all she managed before she passed unconscious, and I must have only been an instant behind her.

Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 02



I awoke in a chair. Again I was without a stitch of clothing. It was not an ordinary chair, but more like a slightly reclined barber chair but of a design that was so modernistic as to look unlike anything I had seen before. I was completely secured. My arms were strapped to the arms of the chair by rubber-like restraints that were, strangely, both soft enough to not cause any great discomfort but could tight enough to prevent any hope of escape - in fact, like those Chinese finger traps, they seemed to tighten only when I tried to pull an arm out. My legs were secured in place with my knees about two and a half feet apart. There was also a waist restraint and my head was secured facing forward. 

There were thin wire leads attached to my head and at various places on and around my genitals; both of which had been shorn of hair. These wires were bundled together draping along my torso and went into a little rounded device that was set on my thigh. The device looked like a miniaturized computer mouse made out of the glossy metallic dark gray material that was so common throughout the room.

Shortly, it was made clear what was going to transpire. For the next few hours I was shown movies - holographic three-dimensional projections to be more precise. I was shown the widest imaginable range of sexually explicit 3D videos. It seemed likely that my unseen tormentors were measuring my response to the films to see what aroused me and what did not and, perhaps, to determine the relative severity of the reactions. 

Despite the humiliation of the situation, they hit about every possible reaction over the course of this viewing. There were segments, such as those showing people in shiny red and black latex head-to-toe suits, that had no effect on me whatsoever. There were segments, such as the one showing a balding middle-aged man wearing a diaper and baby bonnet in a super-sized high-chair and making a food mess all over bare chest and gut, which resulted in disgust - and almost vomit - but no sexual excitement whatsoever. It should be noted that closing my eyes for more than the duration of a natural blink resulted in the same severe pain in my brain I had experienced previously in the plastic box. There were also scenes that achieved varying degrees of arousal from minimal to extreme. 

There were segments of intercourse between people of every possible orientation, straight, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and, if you can imagine, more. There were scenes of dominance and submission as well as of varying levels and sadism from light slapping to severe flogging. The actors, if that was what they were, represented every possible demographic from young hard-bodies to the rotund and decrepit; all imaginable races were represented; there were males, females, hermaphrodites, and transgendered, as well as dwarves and giants. 

There were a segments that were clearly meant to portray incest. One involved a young man coming into a kitchen and a middle-aged woman greeting him like he was her son who had come home from college or military service. The woman hugged and kissed him on the cheek, in both cases in a non-sexual way, and then doted maternally over him by offering him food and beverage. Then, in a striking turn, she leaned over the kitchen table flipping her flowered skirt over onto her back so that her sex, sans panties, was offered to the vital young man. Needless to say, the young man proceeded to take advantage of the offering. 

That scene was followed by a similar scene in which a sorority girl enters a study to greet a salt-and-pepper haired man who looks fatherly, this one ends with the woman kneeling before the man's easy chair and taking him in her mouth passionately. There was not any dialog in any of the movies, but there was sound - mostly the sounds of ecstasy. However, the context was successful in conveying what they sought to get across. 

Though I was in shock for the first bit of this session trying to make sense of what was happening to me and to cope with the utter humiliation of it, eventually the experience proved to be an interesting, if not disturbing, opportunity to gain insight into myself. I had to admit that observing what aroused me sometimes surprised me. Besides the aforementioned scenes that did not have the slightest effect in causing arousal and scenes such as naughty college roommate lesbian sex that, as expected, I was quite responsive to, there were scenes that I found caused me to become reluctantly or embarrassingly stimulated or, at least, preoccupied. These included many scenes of domination, punishment, humiliation, and pseudo-medical examinations and procedures. After several hours, I became desensitized and it was clear that there was little benefit from continuing.

When the porn video session was complete I expected I would be knocked out again as before. That is, if I was, in fact, awake. This all felt very real, but was so odd that it occurred to me that it might all be the most realistic dream I'd ever had. It was odd that there was nothing between the last event and this one. It was like time didn't exist in that space. It could have just happened, or it could have been days ago. Maybe I got some bad mushrooms. I had no experience with hallucinogenics, but heard they could create visions that felt as real as reality. It also occurred to me that I had gone off the deep end. However, it also occurred to me that an ability to recognize one insanity, and a willingness to accept it as a preferable alternative to reality, was not the hallmark of the insane. 

I was not put under. Instead, I experienced a moment of terror when sliding doors opened and in came one of the captors that had, previously, remained unknown to me. The sight of the alien creature was beyond disturbing. It was definitely not the humanoid gray creature with big almond eyes, long thin limbs, and a bulbous head that was portrayed in movies and television shows about UFOs. If I was to compare it to something that I knew about - and, believe me, your mind does try to relate something this strange to something familiar - it would be an octopus. However, it had more wriggling tentacle-like arms than an octopus, but the arms had no suction cups, but instead they were smooth and had a glossy appearance like the skin of dolphins or whales. A few of the arms had three opposing pincering "fingers", but most were smooth and rounded at the end. Its color was a purple that was reminiscent of an eggplant, but a little bit lighter. It was mounted atop a mechanized unit that consisted of a platform above a ball of about two and a half feet in diameter. It was sort of a roller-ball unicycle, which seemed like it would have been unstable but, apparently, was not. The roller-ball unicycle allowed the creature to roll about rapidly or change directions easily and at will. 

The creature leaned in over me, and I assumed was "looking me over", but I saw nothing that looked like an eye per se. It could have been sniffing me, but, again, I saw no breaks in its smooth skin that might equate to nostrils. It then began to run a couple of its arms over my body simultaneously occasionally poking lightly, but mostly just feeling. The skin, which I thought might be cold and slimy given its glossy appearance, was actually dry and soft and its temperature was warm - beyond feverish for a human but not so hot as to burn me. My first impulse was to strain frantically against my restraints in an attempt to break free and get away from the strange creature. However, I gradually relaxed as I realized the thing was not being aggressive or threatening and, as long as he wasn't inflicting pain or damage, it was futile to wear myself out trying to get away or to fight the beast. Besides, I reconciled, whatever this thing was, it clearly had the upper hand, and the sensible thing to do would be to accept its superiority in the hope of putting myself in a better situation in the long run to escape or fight. I could not bring myself to relax entirely, but I stopped straining and tried to think things through. I was still breathing hard from my exertion. 

The inspection, if that was what it was, remained, slow, non-aggressive, and was not particularly painful beyond a combination of occasional minor physical discomfort and the ever-present awkward embarrassment. However, events did get weirder and weirder. After the head-to-toe tactile inspection, one of the beast's tentacles stretched out while thinning and wrapped anaconda-like, but with minimal pressure, around my flaccid member. The tentacle then stroked and undulated in a manner that was clearly intended to cause arousal and engorgement. It took what seemed like several minutes before my heartbeat stopped thudding in my ears and my horror subsided to the point at which my body reluctantly and involuntarily responded to the stimulation. The action did have an arousing effect upon me through shear persistent friction alone. I closed my eyes and tried to put out of my mind that I was essentially being milked of my seed by an alien creature. The sooner that I relaxed, the sooner it would be over. The feeling of the warm soft smooth flesh of the beast was pleasure inducing if one could get past the strangeness of it all - which was a tall order. I never did get over that weirdness, but, eventually - I don't know how long it was, I experienced release. I opened my eyes to see the tentacle arm retracting and unwinding with a glob of my essence slopped across it. 

If anyone should ever read these words and be horrified, I wish to provide forewarning that, while the aforementioned event was troubling, it was not the pinnacle of creepiness experienced during this session. An entirely different tentacle snaked its way up my torso, seeming to get thinner and a lighter shade of purple as it stretched out. It stopped in front of my face, in front of my mouth to be exact. 

"Open." I did not hear the word, but rather experienced the word as if it were my own thought. 

I did not yield, but then the pain in my head began to increase. Finally, when it was no longer tolerable, I opened my mouth and accepted the violating appendage. The pain went away, but then began to resume when I was unresponsive for a moment. There was no taste to the invading stalk, and the faint smell of the thing was more reminiscent of the chemical smell associated with some plastics than with any human or animal scent I had ever smelled before. I began to probe with my tongue and to apply a slight sucking action. The thought to bite down occurred to me, but I didn't have a plan beyond that to escape. I would still be in restraints and the beast, while likely hurt, would not likely be incapacitated. I assumed the tentacle must me sensitive tissue, but that might be an incorrect assumption. Furthermore, with my thoughts of attack, the pain began to rise again, but subsided when I accepted that I was not in a position to do anything. I reluctantly consciously accepted the fact that this creature was in control, and that it was foolish to do anything other than accept that fact - for the moment, at least. The creature could clearly read my thoughts to some extent. 

I found that the surface of the flesh was not as uniformly smooth as it appeared to the eye. There was a patch that yielded under my tongue. When I rubbed it I could see some of the other tentacles rustle and undulate as if involuntarily. When I moved away from that spot, the slightest bit of pain began to develop. In the interest of both preventing the volume of the slight pain from increasing and getting the entire ordeal over with, I focused my attention on that spot. 

Soon an odd occurrence took place. The tentacle retracted slightly out of my mouth, and then stiffened. As it stiffened it shot a fine bitter mist into my mouth and onto my face. This repeated twice more, and just as I thought it was over, with a GLUUGGG, a large mass of chunky pinkish thick liquid was released onto my head and face. The liquid had an oily sheen to it that, like oil on a puddle, created a slight prismatic rainbow effect as the light glistened off it. With that the tentacle retracted and the creature wheeled a few feet away, its tentacles now lying limply down over its body. 

"Good boy." The thought formed in my head. 

I formed my own thought. "Where am I?"

"Specifically, we are in the Center for Sexual Zoologic Studies, Division 2, Department 2. More generally, this is the research vessel Karvis-80 of the Choktul-7 planetary alliance, and we are on what from the perspective of your people's planet would be considered the far side of the planet Jupiter." It replied.

"Can I go home, now?" That was my next question.

"Not for the foreseeable future. When we have turned the Earth into our next ally, then, perhaps, you may. However, that may or may not be before you perish."

"After you have made the Earth be your ally? I think you may be confusing the terms 'colony' and 'ally'." I spoke aloud out of shear habit.

"As you wish." The thought formed in my mind.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I said, continue to speak out loud. 

"It is research in order to build androids that can blend in among your people. We need to perfect the mannerism and cultural proclivities of your species." It communicated.

"So you are studying human sex?" I asked.

"Not exclusively by any means. We have research units that study all aspects of humanity. There are units that study workplace customs and those involved with familial interactions. There are units that study verbal and non-verbal communications and the various languages of your people. There are those that study religious ritual, those that study military doctrine and history, and those that study your political and diplomatic systems. 

"You just happen to be a subject in the sex research unit, Sex Zoo 2.2, and I happen to be a researcher in this particular Sex Zoo. Having said that, we, in this unit, think sex is a particularly important area of study because your species tends to be secretive about sexual practices and proclivities, which makes it more difficult to study than say... workplaces or the political domain... which are well publicized. As we learned in the preceding session, you don't even know yourself that well sexually, so how could we possibly know without putting you in situations that you normally only have fantasies, dreams, and nightmares about, and then studying your behavior and thoughts?" He continued.

"Why do you want to build these androids?" I asked. It seemed to matter not the slightest whether I spoke the words or thought them. 

"We find that it is important to take proper care to put agents in key positions well in advance of demanding alliance. Doing so allows us to collect information and to eliminate sources of resistance in advance. Just trying to bluntly subjugate an opponent is a sure way to end up in a protracted struggle, even against an opposition that is vastly inferior with respect to technologies and resources."

"What do you want from me?" I asked, self-conscious about my every thought knowing that I might give myself away.

"It is interesting that you should ask at this particular moment. Until this phase, all we wanted from you was a test subject on which we could conduct experiments and from whom we could collect data. However, in observing your behavior and responses, we now believe that you could be of much greater service to us by performing a new role."

"What is that?" I inquired.

"You see, we need to exercise control over our subjects, but generally we like to minimize the subjects' exposure to us because it might influence their thoughts and behavior. We have only shown ourselves to a select few, such as yourself. We need humans who can interact with the test subjects to deliver stimuli and punishments, and to serve as a conduit of information to and from the subjects."

It (I had no way of know whether the aliens had gender or, if so, what this one's was) was asking me to be a Kapo in their little sexual concentration camp. That was my thought, which I did not voice, at least.

"Quite precisely." This reply entered my head. It was easy to momentarily forget that they could read the thoughts that crossed my mind.

I flushed from a combination of anger and shame. My anger was directed at the alien for putting me in such a situation. The shame was because there was something about my responses that made them think I would be an ideal candidate for such a loathsome position. This shame escalated as I found myself momentarily intrigued by what it would be like to be in such a role. This was further magnified by knowing that such thoughts were not my own, but could be read by the alien. My mind was in a tug-of-war between my forthright and conscientious consciousness that dreaded being put in such a role, and a darker subconscious that coveted the ability to freely feed my hedonistic impulses. In my normal work-a-day life, the former had always reigned in the latter, but this was not my normal life. 

It was hard to know what some of their sterile language meant exactly. Given the nature of what they called a "Sex Zoo", "applying stimuli" didn't seem likely to mean releasing scents into the air or gently tickling skin with a feather. No, given the nature of the facility, "applying stimuli" seemed to have far more ominous undertones such as sodomization, humiliation, degradation, sexual abuse, or rape. While I should have just been disgusted by this, I was stunned to find that I was in reality conflicted. There was a part of me, a dark part so repressed that even I did not know its true extent, that wanted to know that kind of power and that wanted to take sex as I pleased.

"That is not necessarily an all-inclusive list, but your duties would include those types of activities." The thoughts popped into my head apparently in response to my thoughts about the activities I would have to engage in, and reminded me once again that nothing I thought was a secret. 

"You see, Sex Zoo 2.2 is but one of several sexually oriented labs, and it specializes in extreme and taboo sexual activities. The 1.X Sex Zoos examine more run-of-the-mill romantic love and the sexuality of long-term monogamous relationships that seem to be the norm among your species, as well as basic research on the science and psychology of sexuality. We, on the other hand, investigate sexual activity as a means of domination, punishment, and breaking down an individual's will and sense of self. Therefore, assisting this Zoo would involve a great deal more dominating and aggressive behavior than would serving, say, Sex Zoo 1.5."

"What makes you think I would be good at such a job?" I had to know, though part of me did not want to hear the answer.

"Several factors were considered. First, you have consistently submitted to us after reasoning our clear superiority. We can never trust a human whose will we have to break. The fact that you gave in willingly means you can be expected to behave rationally. Second, you gave in not because you like to be controlled, but in spite of the fact that you dislike being controlled. If you had just given in because you enjoyed subjugation, then you would not be suitable for controlling the herd. Third, you show a deep-seated latent desire to sexually control and dominate others that makes you an ideal candidate for this job. In short, after watching you for many years, we have concluded that you are the rare combination of coward and sadist that will make you obedient and compliant to us while domineering to the research subjects... at least after some training."

There it was - the ugly truths I had asked to hear. The latter part of the alien's sentence hit me so much like a kick in the gut that I almost missed the part about "years" of observation. I had been told who I was, and part of me rejected it summarily as lies but part saw enough truth to think it must be correct. I tried to turn my mind away from whether I was, in deed, a vile scoundrel or not. 




Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 02



"Wait... you say you've been observing me for years? You mean back on Earth before you brought me here?" I asked.

"No. You have been on this ship for 15 of your planet's revolutions around its star." It projected.

"15 years? That is not possible." I said, fighting yet a new round of cognitive dissonance. 

"It is possible. I assure you I have no reason to lie to you. What creates the illusion that you are a new arrival is that, prior to making our decision about you, we had been wiping your memories of all sessions when you went into your post-experiment stasis. This was necessary so that the subsequent experiments would not be adversely influenced by memories of the preceding sessions. We've used you in hundreds of experiments of various kinds, and when you were not engaged in experimentation you were kept in a stasis in which your muscles were exercised regularly by application of electrical impulses but your mind remained in a deep dreamless sleep. Think about it, what is your last memory of life on Earth, and when did it take place?" 

I had a flash, but it dissipated into vapor ephemerally when I tried to consciously think about it. It was just the way one gets a momentary vision of a dream during the day, but when one tries to remember the dream one cannot even recall the image from an instant before. I couldn't remember a last event. I certainly didn't remember being abducted. It was not that I couldn't remember my life, but, rather, it was disturbingly like memories of one's childhood. It was only the highlights reel of footage, and I could, at best, piece together limited sequences of unrelated events with great effort. In other words, I could remember which order I lived at which residence, but for a given job and residence I couldn't remember which events happened earlier and later without great effort to tie them to life's larger events. 

"When did you take me?" I asked.

"May 29th of 1994 at 3:57am; you were saying at your cabin in the mountains." It replied.

Upon hearing this, I could vaguely remember going to the cabin for Memorial Day weekend, but it did seem a long time ago - not days or weeks as I wanted to think it had been. Some friends were supposed to come down on Sunday afternoon and stay over night for Memorial Day, but I only remembered the Saturday before that that I spent by myself to clear my head in solitude. I was distressed that I could not recall the faces or full names of the friends that were supposed to come to visit. 

"As you seem distraught over our conclusions about you, it might make you feel better to know that, unlike some, we did not come to the conclusion you would be suitable for this task initially. It might be beneficial to show you another bit of video. It is the session immediately before the last session you remember. It will both confirm that there were sessions you don't remember, and give some insight into our decision."

Another holographic movie began to play as the porn had before. I felt a chill as I recognized myself in this one, but had no recollection of the events that began to unfold before my eyes. It was an amorphously-shaped completely white room that was unfamiliar to me, and it seemed to contain only myself and a young woman who was kneeling with her back against a pole. I was lying on the floor secured to it a few feet away from unknown woman. Like me, she seemed a little, for lack of a better term, squirmy. It was not clear whether this was just the result of attempts to break free to cover our exposed and naked bodies. Her eyes glistened, and I felt bad for her. She was an attractive blond girl in her mid-twenties with a face whose sweetness showed through the fearful grimace that crossed it at the moment. 

Then there was a voice that seemed to boom out of nowhere that startled us both but clarified what was happening. "At the end of these instructions a tone will sound. When the tone sounds, if you are the first to press your button, you will be able to move free of your restraints for one purpose only. You will be able to walk over to the room's other occupant and relieve your bladder onto that individual. If you do anything other than that act, you will be punished." As if to punctuate the end of the statement, both I and the blond girl winced and writhed from what I could only assume was the now-familiar excruciating headache. 

My face flushed in simultaneous anger and embarrassment. I had never even imagined there could be as humiliating a situation as I was watching myself experience. 

When the tone sounded both of us tensed as if anticipating the other's move. However, neither of us moved immediately. There was a deadlock for some time in which neither of us was eager to be the jackass who degraded the other, but then, as if in an out-of-body experience, I saw myself sit up. The "me" in the holograph tried to turn in the other direction to urinate, but stiffened as the promised punishment was levied. 

I next saw myself step over to the girl mouthing something repetitively that I can only assume was "sorry, sorry, sorry...", and I peed onto the girl's chest and stomach for what seemed like an impossibly long time. I tried to avoid her face, but the spatter went every which way, and if I didn't hit her squarely the punishing pain grew in my head. As I was about halfway done I could see that the girl, unable to hold it any longer, dejectedly began to pee onto the floor with the spatter getting on her thighs and calves.

Briefly the holographic projection went blank, but then came back up with another scene. It looked to be the same room, though there is nothing much to differentiate a plain white room which does not seem to have any corners or distinct edges from another. This one had two floor-to-ceiling poles like the one to which the blond girl had been tied previously. Again there were two occupants in the room, myself and a man of about my age who was of similar height and weight to me but looked to be Korean - or possibly Japanese. We were each secured as the blond girl had been in the previous video. That is to say, both he and I were on our knees with our back to one of the poles and with hands secured back around the pole. Again, we each seemed to have a clicker button in hand. I tried not to think about where this was going, but my inability to look away and the inexorable flow of images prevented my ability to remain ignorant. 

What sounded like the same voice as before began to speak in a language that I did not know, but which I suspected was Korean. As when you fly an international airline, there was only a brief pause between the completion of the foreign instructions and (presumably) the same instructions in English. 

It was the same kind of game of "do or be done" as last time, but this time what was to be done was a blow job with swallowing. The first to push his button would receive, and the other would give. 

Now, I am quite sure that the man opposing me was straight like I, and had no interest in participating in the little game - particularly on the giving end. However, presumably owing to being more courteous than I, he must have hesitated at least an instant. Or, perhaps, his reactions were just slower. At any rate, I did not hesitate a nanosecond this time. While I had never considered either giving or receiving oral sex from another man something I was eager to do, giving and getting a mouthful of goo was a lot lower on the list of things I apparently wished to experience. 

There were three other scenes that were permutations of this same game of ultimatums, but each turned out the same. I "did unto she or he" rather than having "done unto me." I was almost grateful when the alien applied the knock-out gas, and I kind of wished I might again forget some of what I had seen.



Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 03



I awoke in an altogether different condition than on the previous occasions, except in that I was as nude as before. I was neither bound nor confined in a restrictive space. Instead, I was laying on a kind of padded ledge or built-in bench that was long enough to accommodate my body in a small room of perhaps 9 feet by 12 feet. It was not unlike a jail cell. I noticed the room had both a lavatory sink and a toilet of sorts. Neither fixture looked like what I was used to seeing in a bathroom, but their functions were easily enough discerned from their form. They may have copied the basic design parameters from observation of fixtures on earth. I had, after all, no reason to suspect that the devices were optimal for waste evacuation or hygiene for the aliens, if their process of waste removal was even anything like that of a human. 

"Do you need to relieve yourself? If so, please do so before we begin." The voice came from a small squat robot that I had not previously noticed owing to its diminutive stature, its static position, and its position at the periphery of the little cell near the only door or portal. It was cylindrical with a pyramidal top, had wheels, and looked somehow fake despite its impressive capabilities.

"Begin what?" I said

"The tour and orientation for incoming liaisons." The robot said in a voice that was not the synthesized type that I was used to hearing in movies, but rather it sounded quite human though perhaps too perfect for an actual human.

I did in fact need to pee. And, in the context of what I had experienced so far, urinating with my back to the little droid was the least weird thing I had done since I was brought "aboard" or wherever I was. 

"You are to wear these." The robot said rolling up to me with some red material clamped between the pincers of one of its short arms. 

I took the pieces of cloth and unfolded them. They were a rudimentary shirt and pants like medical scrubs, but, instead of soothing pastel colors, these were a fire engine shade of red. They had a fly that was, like some pajamas, not secured by so much as a single button. Still, it was nice to leave behind the vulnerable feeling of being nude among strange beings. 

I reminded myself that the clothes were unlikely to have been issued for my comfort. The alien I had seen wore no clothing, and, for all I knew, clothing was a completely foreign concept to its species. No, the clothing was meant to differentiate me from the subjects. The aliens had studied us long enough to know that in any interaction between naked and clothed humans, the one with pants (or a skirt) is invariably in charge. I could not deny that clothing injected a degree of confidence that would likely be beneficial in my role. I was beginning to suspect that the .2 in Sex Zoo 2.2 (i.e. Department 2) focused on sexual power dynamics. 

When I had put on the top and bottom, the robot turned and rolled toward the door. It paused at the door for just a moment before the door opened. I wondered how the process worked. Did the robot send a wireless signal to trigger the door? If so, was it encrypted? I was thinking about how I could make a break. I didn't know what I would do once I got out, or even what "out" meant. Out of the Zoo? Off the ship? Back to earth? Was I even on a ship, or was that a fabrication?

My reverie was interrupted by a statement by the little droid as it rolled ahead of me smoothly leading the way. "I've been told to inform you about rules. You are confined to the corridors delineated by these yellow lines and all rooms immediately off them except those marked with placards indicating they are restricted areas." The machine pointed a closed pincer at a color coded line that ran along the floor about six inches from each wall.

"During your work hours you may travel freely within this space as necessary to get your work done and go about the course of living as long as you don't interrupt experiments in progress. Rooms in which experiments are being conducted are marked with a placard. In most cases there is an anteroom between the corridor and the experiment chamber that is used for observation and monitoring and doors from the anteroom to the experimentation chambers are locked except when needed for transit. So it should not be a problem. If you stray from the delineated area, you will begin to experience a pain that, if ignored, will escalate to the point of incapacitation and possibly death. When you are not performing your required tasks, you are free to entertain yourself as you see fit. Do you have any questions?" The little droid inquired as it came to a stop.

I had a million questions, but the most pressing ones I did not want to ask. At the top of the list I wanted to know whether the droid or the aliens had read my thoughts about escape and that was what triggered the lecture on my confinement area and the penalty for violating it, or whether it was a mere coincidence. That alien had clearly read my mind, but I didn't know if it had limitations. 

For the time being I decided I should assume they could understand every thought that went through my mind and should be appropriately cautious. This turned out to be exceedingly challenging and mentally exhausting. I had once practiced Soto Zen meditation, and knew how maddeningly difficult it could be to clear the mind. It was even harder because an overwhelming desire to get the hell out of this place was my primary motivating force in life. How could one plot an escape without thinking about escape? On the other hand, if I played along with the aliens' game in my mind, would I eventually become brainwashed into being what they wanted me to be? The mind is complex and tricky.

I decided to ask a question to distract myself. "What kind of entertainment is there?" 

"Well, most obviously, there are sexual diversions of any nature you might desire, and you are encouraged to take advantage of them. However, should you require a break from those activities, we do have probes that pick up radio signals transmitted from your planet, and we have receivers that can transform the raw signal into audio and visual output perceivable comprehensible by you. If you have any other particular desires, your hosts will consider requests. We have learned that occupying the mind is important to the well-being of members your species." The robot answered. 

"If you look through these windows you will see the stasis pods in which most of the subjects are kept between experiments. As I suspect you were told, you resided in one of these pods until recently." The robot valet said.

I had been so distracted with listening to the robot and trying to censor my thought that it did not register that we had passed out of the sterile white brightly-lit arc of corridor. I did as suggested, turning and peering through the glass. From my position, one looked down as if from an observation deck to a factory floor or surgical chamber. This space was more like the former, but still more like a warehouse. Except it was an immaculately clean environment. The stasis pods were a silver-gray metallic material and were gracefully curved in the front around a large almond shaped bubbled glass that allowed one to see the occupant's upper torso and head. The pods' dimensions were similar to that of a small coffin, though they seemed to come in at least a few different sizes. These pods were suspended from gigantic racks like suits hanging in a closet. There were coiled cables that stretched from the rack and attached to the upper end of the pod. 

I could see robots, stouter and taller than my little valet droid, lifting the limp form of a fellow human, a pasty thin man, out of one of the pods and onto what looked quite like a search and rescue team's basket. Another set of robots was transferring a middle-aged woman with short red-hair from another basket back into one of the pods. Both the woman and man had dark veiny tendrils running along their torsos and limbs. I remembered I had had them myself during the experiments on me, and I surmised that these must provide muscle stimulation because otherwise one would expect severe atrophy from such extended hibernations. I still felt weak and lacked energy, but I realized that my muscles must have gotten some activity. I could see at least 100 of the pods in the cavernous space below, and there may have been many more owing to my inability to see the full extent of the room's peripheral wings. 

"Come along. It is time for me to take you to the Sexual Activities Workshop and Breeding Laboratory, we call it the SAW-BL." The robot said, pronouncing the acronym "sawble". 

Almost every surface I had seen in the ship so far was either a glossy white plastic-looking material or one of various shades of gray metallic material that was also glossy such that it looked like the faux-metal plastics one sometimes saw in car consoles and the like. There was, of course, glass-like transparent material as well. The lack of any color or decorations to break up the wall space gave the ship, or whatever it was, a surreal and oddly disconcerting feel. And all of the white began to be punishing to the eyes after a short while. Corners and edges were also much less prevalent than in human construction. The ceilings tended to be arched or domed and spaces more often featured curved, circular, or amorphous shapes than the standard cubic Earthling room. 

I was directed through a door into what they called the SAW-BL and what I almost immediately began to mentally refer to as the "2nd Circle of Hell." Its occupants did not have the good fortune to be kept unconscious, like those in the stasis pods. Instead, they were conscious and kept nude in the most terrifyingly vulnerable positions. 

We entered the room shaped like half a capsule cut long ways from one end, and I could see the space was partitioned into at least five sections by partition walls that connected perpendicularly to one long wall, but with a passageway that could be transited along the nearer long wall. It reminded me of a large dairy I had visited as a child in which row after row of cows were kept with heads locked in stanchions where they could eat at food placed before them while they were milked. There were some differences. Whereas the dairy had been both quite open and ironically very smelly, this place was more closed off by solid walls but was pristinely clean and sanitary. However, the more I was shown the more the dairy analogy seemed apropos. 

In the first section I saw, there were six individuals, five female and one male, who were positioned with their backsides presented and their heads confined within a sort of box that was interconnected to the partition wall. "Box" was not a good descriptor in a precise sense as they were not a cubic containers but more like a helmet connected at about the distance of its radius into the wall so they were more hemispheric in the back, but with an opening conforming to the individual's neck. The subjects were positioned as if on knees and elbows. They had the same type of "veins" that I had earlier surmised were used to stimulate muscle, which looked like thick tattoos running over various parts of their bodies. The individuals were secured by the same type of bands I had been earlier when I found myself forced to watch porn. 

Ordinarily the human body would not fair well with being immobilized for long periods restrained in the exact same position, but the captors seemed have technology to overcome these difficulties. For one thing, the contraptions on which they were strapped seemed to be extremely ergonomic and individualized. For example, the women, while lying on their chests, were not squishing their breasts, because the surfaces seemed indented to conform perfectly to their individual proportions. The metallic looking material must not have been metal as I knew it. It must have been capable of providing air to the skin resting on it and eliminating dead skin cells and minerals that would eventually cause a rash and decay of the flesh. 

Just judging from the six individuals I could see, there did not seem to be any common denominator to the subjects. As I mentioned, both sexes were represented. However, it was also true that the skin hues ranged from the palest white to what approached a charcoal black with a range of tans and browns between. There were heavy as well as thin subjects, and the soft unblemished skin of youth as well as some showing the effects of age. The six all seemed to be adult, but, other than that, seemed to cover quite a gamut of humanity. Perhaps they were selected for diversity. 

There was a conic shaped "catcher" and drain in the floor beneath each individual's crotch, but I couldn't tell if they urinated and defecated where they were, or if there was some other provision for that and the drain was just to catch other liquids that might drip downward as a result of the activities that took place here. At any rate it was keep spotlessly clean, though I don't know who conducted that labor or whether it was an automated process. 

"Do you have any questions?" The robo-valet asked.

"Why are their heads in those containers?" I asked. 

"There are several reasons. First, if we need to deliver an anesthetic gas, it can be done without knocking everyone else out and with a minimal amount of gas. Second, it houses the subject's feeding apparatus, which is a tube that goes into its mouth. By biting down on the tube it can suck down a liquid which provides both the requisite hydration and nutrition. There is a mechanism that allows us to remove the tube if a subject's mouth is to be put to alternate uses. Third, it is important to keep the individuals mentally occupied, so sound and visual projections can be projected into the box to provide individual entertainment. The box allows us to individualize the signal. Finally, it lets us keep the subject from seeing its inseminator and vice versa. This reduces the likelihood of the formation of connections that are detrimental to the research process and to good order." The robot explained in great detail.

I was chilled by the reference to these people as "it" versus "he" or "she".

"Please help yourself." The robo-valet said.

"Excuse me?" I asked, it not being entirely clear what my mechanized attendant was suggesting.

"You may now enjoy the use of one, or more - if you desire, of the station one captives." It said matter-of-factly. 

Even though I found the idea disconcerting, I steeled myself to play along. I had to admit the anonymity made it much easier than it would have been otherwise, but I was not free of shame. 

I chose the subject who was second from the end on my left. The subject was a female that had the darkest, almost truly black, skin of the group. I must admit I selected her purely based on the aesthetics of the perfect roundness of the woman's ass and the flawless smoothness of her skin. The robo-valet demonstrated how to operate the equipment that would allow me to adjust the her position to suit my comfort so that I would neither have to squat nor kneel to access the orifice to be used. 

I reached down and ran a finger through the unknown woman's slit. She was not ready. I could see her tense up as I began to manually stimulate her in an effort to make penetration more pleasant for myself, and, at least by some margin, more tolerable for her. It was not long before the subject was moist, and, by that time, I was also physically prepared to engage in the act. 

I extracted the turgid member from the fly of my rudimentary trousers and stroked it a few times to the height of rigidity. I then pushed it with gradually increasing effort against the young black woman's sex. I breached her without difficulty and proceeded to thrust with progressively increasing vigor. I felt a mixture of ecstasy and remorse. The woman's pussy was snug and warm, and felt heavenly. 

While my cock was singing "Joyful, Joyful" with the Hallelujah Chorus, I had an uneasy pain in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't help but reflect upon a number of questions. Was I a victim, somewhat like the poor girl I was fucking, or was I a rapist plain and simple? If you had asked me when I went off to my ill-fated Memorial Day weekend whether I would rape a woman under three conditions, I would have been outraged and indignant, and, yet, here I was. (The three conditions being: a.) she could not fight me; b.) she could not identify me; and c.) she would have no recourse, legal or otherwise, to achieve retribution.) It unnerved me how little it took to nudge me into such dark territory. The more I succumbed to the pleasure, the more I was shaken by what I was doing. Yet it was more complex still, my shame and unease may have been contributors to my arousal at the same time on some level they seemed to stifle it.

There soon came a distraction from my moral conundrum. One of the aliens wheeled in and rolled up behind the woman two over from me with no acknowledgement of my presence. He moved as if one might sidle up to a urinal in the men's room. Consistent with the men's room analogy, my original impulse was to look straight ahead at the wall. However, I was overcome by curiosity and began first to glance over with my peripheral vision and increasingly turned my head until I was looking straight at the alien. 

Mounted between the stations were a couple of colored units that looked reminiscent of small wall-mounted automated hand soap dispensers one might see in a public restroom. The alien put one of its tentacles under the green dispenser and a clear liquid substance squirted out onto it. He used that tentacle to coat another one evenly in the clear glossy liquid. He then put the original tentacle under the blue dispenser and a blue liquid dripped out onto it, and soon that tentacle looked completely dry as if the second liquid had counteracted or cleaned up the first. 

The alien then pressed the lubed up tentacle against the woman's vaginal opening. His victim was somewhat heavy and had smooth pale white skin. The alien didn't stretch and thin out the tentacle as I had earlier experienced. Therefore, the rounded end of the lubed tentacle was about the size of an average-sized woman's fist, though with a softer and rounder shape than a human fist. The alien pushed the appendage against the woman's sex. The tentacle arm bent from the resistance presented by the woman's orifice before stiffening and plunging into the woman.

As the violating appendage entered the woman there was a loud "mmmmm-MMM-mmmm" sound that one could only imagine was the sound of an intense scream made with the feeding tube inserted in the woman's mouth and with her head contained in the helmet-like container. In contrast, I had not heard a peep come from the woman I continued to fuck intently. 

The alien thrust and retracted the appendage with rapid stabbing motions. The one element of good fortune for the pale maiden was that it took no more than a dozen such cunt punches before there was a moist sound of the alien depositing his load, which sounded, I imagine, similar to blowing bubbles in a thick pudding through a garden hose. As I knew too well, the alien's load might be a couple orders of magnitude more than the average well-sexed human male would produce.

The alien retracted the tentacle, which was covered in a mixture of the synthetic lube and the woman's own lubricant (applied of a self-preservation instinct, no doubt) with the mix tinged in the woman's blood. It looked as though the woman had been on her period, but she probably hadn't. The alien then put the soiled appendage under the blue dispenser, and soon it was cleaned of the bloody stinky slop. The alien then wheeled off as he had entered. 

I, having lost some of my turgor from the spectacle and wanting to pace myself, withdrew without release.




Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 03



"If you place some of the liquid from the blue dispenser on your penis, it will be cleaned." The little robo-valet said. I did as suggested, and both my member and the hand I used to apply the liquid were cleaned of the woman's vaginal secretions almost instantly. 

As I walked away from the first station, I couldn't help but stare into the gapping maw of the woman the alien had just violated. His oily pinkish cum oozed in lumpy waves out of her stretched opening with some of it sliding down her leg while some of it dripped in long thick strings straight down to the drain. 

Station two was much like station one. It contained six individuals, this time three male and three female, who were all positioned in the same knees and elbows ass-presenting type position. The three females were nearest the far wall and the three males were nearest the entrance. 

However, my attention was not directed toward the six new individuals, but rather to the backside of the partition wall separating this section from the first. 

"Pick a subject, I will show you how to use it in this way." The robot said.

Anticipating what was to happen, I specifically picked one of the females that was neither the one violated by the alien nor myself. There were two sleek buttons and a little swinging lever at each position. 

"Swinging this lever over extracts the feeding tube and opens the orifice." The robot flipped the lever at the position I had selected, and an iris opened. 

"These subjects have all been trained, and I doubt you will have need of these buttons. However, as we rotate in new subjects, use of the controls will be instrumental in the training process. The orange one is to be used to immobilize and punish the subject if they should engage in objectionable activities. It is a secondary protective device, as the primary guard against a subject that bites is automated and wired into its nervous system to achieve the requisite speed to prevent damage to the user. The green button is used to prod an unresponsive subject through the application of a stern warning. If you suspect the orange button might be needed it is best to use a subject that is not being used on the other end because subjects often soil themselves when the punishment is applied. Please, try it out." The robot said.

Despite the robot's explanation of the safety features, I was reluctant to stick my cock into the orifice. This time it was not a moral conflict as much as the disconcerting feeling of sticking one's hand down a garbage disposal. The iris looked like it could close at any instant severing my member like a fancy cigar trimmer, and, even if it didn't, there was presumably a set of sharp teeth inside attached to some poor soul who just might not be fond of being mouth raped. 

Nevertheless, I did stick my dick into the orifice and was rewarded with the immensely pleasurable feeling of being sucked off. I wondered what the occupant looked like and who it was. I remembered that it was a woman who was thinner than the woman the alien had taken, but less svelte than the woman of which I had partaken. She had a fading tan with tan-lines that indicated she had only a slight hint of color to her skin naturally. She was certainly skilled with her mouth. At first I wondered why she was so enthusiastic and giving, but reasoned that she might be hoping that if she impressed her unseen captor, she might be let free. Who knew what went on in the mind of a captive in such an unusual and lonely existence? There was Stockholm Syndrome and other such behaviors that came out when captives began to yearn for human connection and would do anything for approval.

As I was gently rolling my hips to ease my member in and out of the hole, two humans walked into station two wearing the same red scrubs as I. They were speaking in English, one of them with an Indian accent and the other with a type of accent I could not precisely identify but which I pictured originating in one of the United Kingdom's former sub-Saharan colonies. The men's appearance matched their accents with one looking to be from India or perhaps elsewhere in South Asia, and the other being a dark-skinned African. 

"Hey, a newbie." The Indian said.

"Hi, newbie." Replied the African.

"Hey." I said feebly. There had been a momentary involuntary shock like being caught masturbating (or caught getting a blow job) before I realized where I was.

The two went about their business. They took positions behind my back with the African at the third position and the Indian at the fourth position of second station. That meant that the African was behind one of the females and the Indian behind a male. They continued to chat as they lubed up. I looked over my shoulder and it appeared they were each butt-fucking their respective subject. They both took to thrusting away intently as if in a race to see who could cream their respective subject's ass first. 

I succumbed to the oral pleasure shooting my cream into my unknown pleasure-giver's mouth in several spasmed shots. I extracted my member against the continued suction from my mystery servicer who seemed desperate to continue pleasing me. I cleaned up in the same manner as before and left, following the robot while the two men were each continuing to punish the ass before them. 

The third section was unlike the first in that the subjects were on their backs. Against the far wall there was a male subject with his legs extended and a red-scrubbed female in a skirt riding him facing toward his feet. Presumably the female Kapos were given skirts more for the functionality of leaving their genitals accessible than out the aliens' sense of gender-appropriate fashions. The kapo was reaching down and squeezing the man's nuts, ostensibly to control his climax, while she bounced up and down on the man displaying a maniacal look on her face. 

The kapo had an attractive enough face and I judged that she was Korean. However, her hair was pulled into such a tight bun that it seemed to almost tighten her face. There was also something about the fact that there was not a hair out of place that contributed to one's tendency to see her as somehow tight and foreboding. Perhaps I was just used to seeing Asian girls of her age being cordial and hospitable, if not giggly, and this girl's face never veered from deadly serious.

The subject next to the one the female kapo rode was also a man, but he was positioned with his knees bent and widely splayed. The other four subjects were females in the same splayed knee position as the second male. It looked like the equipment allowed all the individuals to be transitioned between straight-legged and bent-kneed positions. All of the subjects' heads were encased in similar helmets built into the partition wall as those seen in the first two stations. 

The fourth section was similar to the third with subjects on their backs, some with legs extended and others with knees open and apart. However, in this section one saw yet another indication of the diversity sought by the aliens. As mentioned, there seemed to be little in the way of common denominators among the subjects. They came from both genders, all races, and displayed every imaginable body type: thin, fat, athletic, tall, short, and even one or two with disabilities including a double amputee. It was impossible to know, but I would not have been surprised if multiple sexual orientations were included as well. Supporting this hypothesis, half of the last group added yet another dimension to this mélange. Two were built like ladies with the prominent exception of having male genitalia, and one was built like a man with the exception of having the usual external genitalia. Among the other three were two females and one male. 

There was one Kapo in the fourth section who, like the maniacal girl in the preceding section, paid no attention to my presence whatsoever has he went about the process of milking the cock of one of the transgendered subjects into what looked like a beaker. The subject had a rather attractive physique that seemed completely feminine with the exception of the smallish dick and scrotum. The subject had made at least one deposit into the glass container. However, the kapo was clearly trying to extract another.

"Feel free to partake." The robot said.

"No thank you, I'm still trying to get my bearings." I replied.

"That is understood." 

The fifth station, which was in the far rounded end of the room from the one we had entered, contained only five subjects, but was set up differently from all the others. Here the subjects were all females, and they were all reclined in chairs with their legs somewhat positioned as if in a gynecologist's exam chair. From the three rounded bellies observed, I induced that this is where the women who became pregnant were kept and guessed that the other two subjects were likely pregnant but not showing yet. This notion was supported by the fact that the woman who was farthest along was quite petite except for the bulbous belly. These women's heads were, like the others, contained in a helmet like containers. Two of the five, the two who seemed farthest along based on the plumpness of their midsections, had what looked like breastplates conforming to their chests which had tubes running out of them. I suspected that these were some sort of milking machine devices to harvest the milk produced by these women. 

I was reminded of the earlier session in which I was forced to watch stimulating videos. Among the surprises I discovered was how unexpectedly arousing I found the videos featuring women with such rounded bellies and milk-engorged breasts. I forced the thought from my head as seeming odd and a bit creepy. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch one of the women, but instead I backed away. 

"If you don't have any pressing desire to partake of any more of the subjects, we should move along." The robot said.

The droid wheeled off and I followed. I was glad to be out in the hall again. The SAW-BL, if one was capable of the slightest bit of empathy, was a depressing place. It did occur to me that it might not get any better, but, for the moment, I had to assume it would. 

As the robot glided soundlessly down the clean white corridor, I tried to orient myself to the layout of the place. It took great efforts to not let my mind linger on thoughts of escape as I concerned myself with questions that might prove useful in just such an endeavor. I looked for indications of how the place was ventilated, how waste was disposed of, and how power was distributed. In all cases, the answers seemed to be nothing like such functions were carried out in the world I had known. I saw nothing that I could recognize as a vent or an electrical outlet. 

I also looked for indication that what I had been told about being halfway across the solar system was a lie. I refused to take what I had been told at face value. If I was in space, how was artificial gravity created or simulated, centrifugal force? I couldn't tell, but would I be able to? I felt weaker. Could it be that a stronger force than Earth's gravity was pulling me to the deck or was my weakness a side-effect of having no real exercise and being stuck in stasis? For all I knew I was on some elaborate soundstage in Hollywood. But if I was, I reasoned, the special effects were exceptional. 

I followed the robot into a crescent shaped room with an arched ceiling. It was the observation station for a circular domed-ceilinged room that was clearly one of the experimentation chambers. There was an experiment in progress that I had trouble making sense of when I first looked through what appeared to be a two-way mirror, or, more precisely, a two-way wall. There was no action taking place. Instead, it looked like four subjects were engaging in heated debate on some issue. 

I was surprised by the unexpected sadness at seeing that one of the subjects was the brown-haired woman I had coupled with during the first experiment I could remember, the one that took place in the transparent box. I thought about what might cause me to be disproportionately distraught by the suffering of this woman. I concluded that she was the only person in this whole damned place to which I felt any real connection. It was true that I had not had so much as a word with her, and I didn't even know her name. But in the lonely crazy world I was in, she was the closest thing I had to a friend. The poor souls in the SAW-BL were faceless and anonymous. The people I had witnessed myself with on video were illusions, and I tried to rationalize that they might have even been tricks of masterful computer image generation. The few kapos that I saw in the SAW-BL had been cold and almost suspicious of me- if they acknowledged me at all. Furthermore, I had not yet conceded to being one of them yet. Maybe it was the look of her. She was neither ravishingly beautiful nor ugly, but had the kind of comforting face that a man could be happy waking up next to. 

"Our timing is perfect. You will be allowed to participate in this experiment." The robot said. 

"What is the nature of the experiment?" I asked.

Before the robo-valet could answer, events conspired to keep me momentarily ignorant. The woman with the short brown hair rolled her eyes, shook her head in disgust, and then motioned toward the awaiting kapo. Then two of the kapos I had seen in the SAW-BL came into the room briskly as if fearing they were late. 

One of them was the Korean girl I had seen intently riding the man. I wondered if she was really as mean as she looked. The other was the Indian chap who had visited station two with the African kapo. He had a lighter more easy-going expression. 

With their arrival, the two of them and myself joined the female kapo who was already in the experimentation chamber. The kapo who I had not yet seen before had brown skin and jet black hair and had a face whose ethnicity was hard to pin down. She could have been Latina, but she might also have been from the Middle East. She was full-figured and had a cherubic face that was disjoint with the stern furrowed brow it presently displayed. 

We formed an unplanned girl-boy-girl-boy line with the ambiguously ethnic girl in the lead followed by the Indian, and then the Korean girl, and, finally, myself. Our line was in opposition to the four subjects, who also consisted of two males and two females. 

The brown-haired girl looked me in the eye, and I was certain I saw a flurry of emotion cross her face. It was though there was an instant of recognition followed by the briefest bit of happiness to see me, but this rapidly clouded over into revulsion and disgust as she seemed to note the red uniform. It was such a rapid burst of changing expression that I wasn't certain I wasn't imagining the initial happiness. The revulsion seemed to distort her face long enough to be clearly recognized before the woman turned her face away. It felt like a kick in the gut. I wanted to declare my innocence, but couldn't make myself do it. So I just looked away in my own embarrassment and shame.

As the other three held back, the short brown-haired woman approached the female kapo on the opposite end of the line from myself. The subject then knelt down, lifted the kapo's skirt, and leaned forward to put her mouth into the kapo's bush of curly black pubes. With fierce violent motions, the kapo took a handful of the girl's hair and forced her down onto her back and straddled the subject's face with her crotch. I felt sympathy as I saw my "friend's" forehead turn beet red as the kapo crudely rubbed her crotch in the woman's face. This seemed to go on for the longest time with the subject occasionally managing to suck in a deep breath of air as she was forced to service the zaftig woman. Eventually the kapo's body was wracked by a series of hard orgasmic spasms as she moaned, squirmed, and writhed unabashedly. 

When the kapo got up, the brown-haired woman's face was covered in a sheen of the kapo's cunt slop. The brown-haired woman got back up to her knees slowly and shifted over to begin to service the Indian man. 

The game seemed simple enough now. There were four of us, and four of them. They had to come to a decision as a group about how the four of us would be orally serviced. Apparently, the brown-haired woman had tired of trying to talk the group into some sort of fair arrangement in which each of them serviced one of the kapos, and had decided to do us all herself. I wondered if the aliens would draw the correct conclusion. I suspected they might think this woman the weakest because she took all the punishment while the others just watched on dumbly. In reality, she was no doubt the strongest, because she had the courage to do what had to be done.

The seemingly good-natured Indian grabbed two fistfuls of the woman's hair and slammed his rod into her mouth. She was gagging and gasping as he pulled her face into his thrusting cock. Tears rolled down her cheeks from her gag reflex. The tears mixed with drool that dripped down her chin and over her chest. When she would open her mouth to get a bigger breath of air there was a sickening hollow smacking noise. The Indian took a long time to cum, likely because he had just emptied his nuts into some guy's ass in the SAW-BL. When he finally did cum, it went into the woman's windpipe and she was sent into a spastic coughing fit. 

Her experience with the Korean girl was largely a repeat of her earlier experience with the other female kapo. That is, the Korean kapo pushed brown-hair to the floor and ground her face into the subject's face. The one saving grace was that the Korean girl's light weight and petite figure no doubt made it a less suffocating process. 

By the time she got to me, the brown-haired woman was a disheveled mess with her hair looking like she had just come in out of gale force winds, her face was red from being sat upon and it and her bangs were covered in stink and slop. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, and so I had no idea if she looked me in the eye. I do know that I was at least the gentlest of her tormentors. I did not force myself deep into her mouth or throat, but rather was relatively placid and let her do what she had to do. While I was the least violent, I was also the longest-lasting. Under new stresses and having just recently cum myself, it took a little while for me to become rigid, and the longest of any of the kapos to cum. When my nuts tightened and she felt me on the verge of cumming, the woman began to withdraw her mouth but not before I shot the first glob into her mouth. With my second spasm I inadvertently sent a small stream of jizm onto her hair and into her eye. 

When she was done, she sat back onto her calves and then rolled over onto her hip wearily. She tried to wipe her face clear with her forearm but succeeded only in smearing the mess around. She was breathing hard from her ordeal. The other three looked relieved. They had averted punishment and let someone else to all the work. I again found myself empathizing with the brown-haired woman. 

Myself and the other three kapos then turned around and went back out of the room the way we entered. I can't say what went on from there because when I got back in the observation room, the little robot said that we had to go. I apparently had my first official assignment. 

We went just a few doors down and into another crescent shaped observation room that was nearly identical to the one from which I had just come. Inside the experimentation chamber there were two women. They were both restrained in some sort of modernistic stocks facing the observation room. The older one may have been forty-five or so, and the younger one was at most half that age. They were both fetching women, and, I thought coincidentally, both had strawberry-blond hair. The elder had a short hairstyle and the younger had long flowing coils. The similar hair color seemed an odd coincidence until I realized that the women had a more specific resemblance than just both being pretty women. This relationship was confirmed when I was given the directions of the little experiment I was to carry out. 




Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 03



I went into the room with the two women, and stated the ultimatum with which the robot had provided me. "I'm sure you want to get out those uncomfortable shackles and avoid any more punishment. I can make it happen. The price is that I get to fuck one of you in the mouth and the other in the ass. You have five minutes to determine which of you gets dicked where. I'll be back." I said.

"Wait... I'll do both. I'm really good." The mother said, adding the latter sentence in a seductive tone that didn't ring true but was a laudable attempt to have her daughter spared.

"Mom..." The daughter said.

"Shh-shh." The mother retorted.

If it had been up to me, I'd have gladly taken the mother up on her offer. She was a gorgeous woman, and whatever slight flaws and imperfections she had relative to her daughter would probably be more than offset by confidence and experience. However, it was not up to me and clearly the aliens had something else in mind. 

It was easy to see why the aliens might find it interesting to perform the experiments with individuals who were related. (As opposed to the similar ultimatums I had seem myself presented with in the videos.) The aliens were likely interested in what was presumably a much more intense willingness to take the more objectionable option to protect loved ones than was generally seen between strangers. There was also the parent-child dynamic to sort out, which, no doubt, could get complex when the child was this age and considered herself independent. 

"I'm sorry, that is not an option." I said and continued toward the portal to the observation and monitoring room.

"But..." The mother said, but did not continue when it invoked no response from me.

I stood on the other side of the two-way wall watching the two women's deliberations. I found myself intrigued. There was a long period of silence and it seemed apparent the mother was trying to figure out what would be the less traumatic experience for her daughter. She had a shrewd look about her, and I was impressed with her.

I was interrupted by the little robot. "I have been told to inform you that your performance during the last experiment was horrible and to remind you that you are on probation. If you do not pick up your performance and show more aggression, you will be reassigned to be a SAW-BL subject. Do you understand?" The robot said matter-of-factly. 

"I understand. Do you have any coins around here?" I said. 

The droid's message was not a surprise to me, I expected flack for being relatively genteel with the brown-haired woman. But the thought of being sent to the SAW-BL was an ominous warning. I had no intention of letting that happen.

If the little droid had circuits expecting logical responses, I had likely nearly fried them and I was quietly pleased about it. "A coin? For what purpose would you need a coin?"

"Once they decide who gets fucked where, I am going to let chance decide which orifice I take first." I said.

"Why not just choose outright?" The robot said.

They expected meanness out of me, and the mean thing to do would be to butt-fuck one of the women and then stick my soiled cock in the mouth of the other. If I did it the other way around, which was my inclination; I would no doubt have it counted against me. I did not want to end up in the SAW-BL, but I also had a stubborn rebellious streak about me that I think had grown when the first alien I saw stated that I was both a sadist and a coward. So I came up with an alternative.

"Because it's more demoralizing to leave it to chance." I said.

There was a certain potential truth to what I said. If I did them in ass-first order, then it was just a mean and disgusting man acting against them. However, if chance dictated it, then the fates were conspiring against them. Of course, there was the possibility they would get the less objectionable outcome. There was an excellent chance it turned out. 

I resumed observing the mother - daughter duo. 

"I've thought about it, and I will take the rear-end sex." The mother said, breaking the silence. 

"Mom, we should talk about this." The daughter said.

"Well, sex in the butt can be really painful and even dangerous. Your father..." 

"MOM! Too much information. I just think we should consider our options and come to a solution that is best for both of us." 

"Well I thought about doing the oral and going first and maybe I could wear him out or bite him and escape, but this may just prolong the entire ordeal." 

"Not to mention there is no guarantee you would get to go first doing oral." The daughter whispered.

The mother just cringed in response to that suggestion.

"Look if you'd rather I used my mouth, we can do it that way. Just tell me what you least want to do. I always think of you as my little girl, but I know you've done some things before." The mother said after a pause. 

"Look, mom, it's just about getting this over with. I don't care which way I have to do it, and I kind of don't want to give him the satisfaction of making the decision a big traumatic deal. " The daughter said, and her stock just reached parity with that of her mother.

"Alright. Let's get it over with then. I'll take it back there, but you'll have to go first if we can. Is that OK?"

"Yes, mom, it's fine." 

I waited a few minutes until I thought, not having a watch, it had been about five minutes, and then I went back into the chamber. The droid had brought me a coin that looked just like a quarter with the conspicuous exception of the absence of milling marks around the edge. Apparently, they could manufacture at least simple items without machines as we thought of them, but the time constraints must have prevented putting the finishing touches on it. I had once read an article about how nanotechnology might make such capabilities possible in my lifetime on Earth, but to my knowledge it was still a distant reality there.

"So what is it going to be?" I asked.

"I'm telling you, I'm much more experienced, you should just do me. It will be worth your while, I promise. You can even have my pussy too." The mom finished her sentence, but seemed to do so in great pain. The droids in the observation room had apparently turned on the punishment.

"I'll go first with my mouth, and then you can have her... from behind." The daughter said. 

"Nice try, but I'm afraid fate will decide the order. I opened my hand to show the coin. 'Heads' or 'tails' should be self-explanatory." I said.

With my back to the two-way wall, I flipped the coin high in the air and caught it placing it onto the back of my other hand. I was standing forward of the two women between them and they strained to see when I peaked under the covering hand. I tried to avoid showing the two women the coin, while making it look as though they would be able to see it. I tried to not even think about, or let it register, what coin face was actually showing.

"Heads it is." I said and closed my palm on the coin before placing it in the rudimentary pocket in my top.

As I walked over to the daughter, she displayed brief a look of dismay and then one of resignation. I extracted my cock through the fly of my pants and began to stroke it. 

"Open." I said like a dentist, except when she did I shoved a half-erect dick in her mouth rather than a sharp steel tool (well, unlike most dentists). 

My member did not stay pliable for long. Enveloped by the warm wet mouth and soft lips, it became turgid in an instant. To display the requisite aggression, I ran my fingers into the pretty young girl's strawberry-blond coils and tightened my fists to lock her head in place. I then began thrust the member into her mouth. 

I had to admit, the sense of power and control was both thrilling and invigorating, and I became increasing aroused as I took the doll-faced girl's mouth. I could see how a person could get addicted to the kapo's life, though I feared split-personality. I was not as harsh in my manhandling as the Indian had been with the brown-haired woman, but nonetheless the girl choked and gagged as the cock hit the back of her throat repeatedly. The girl was not as skilled the woman in the SAW-BL, but even mediocre head is better than most everything else in the imaginable universe. 

I didn't want to climax too rapidly, so I pulled out for a time and lifted my cock putting my nutsack against the young sweety's mouth so she could lick and kiss it.

"Be a good little girl and lick my nuts." I said. 

She did as asked in a half-hearted manner. 

"You're a good little cocksucker. Your momma should be proud." I said as I shoved my cock back into the girl's mouth. 

I decided antagonizing the women might win me some points with the aliens and possibly keep me from being butt-raped in the SAW-BL. 

"You bastard." The mother said.

"You should be happy. Your baby girl's going to slob my knob up nice and slippery so it won't be so painful when I cram it in your ass. Come on, baby doll, get my cock nice and slippery for your mommy." 

"I hope you burn in hell." The mother said.

"Perhaps I will, but not before I bust a nut in your ass." 

Despite starting out as an act on my part, I found myself feeling defensive at the response to my antagonizing comments, and there began to develop a real enmity. Emotion ruled over rationality. My logical mind knew I shouldn't take anything personal because I hadn't really meant my offenses to be taken personally, but yet I did and it fed an edge of hostility. The hostility was great for staying out of the SAW-BL, but was stressful nonetheless.

When I was on the verge of climax, I pulled out of the daughter's mouth and shot a small lump of cum onto her cheek right below her eye. I then glossed the girl's closed lips with the little bit of cream that oozed out of the tip of my shaft as it went flaccid. 

I had not intended to cum. Having done so twice already in the day, I figured I should save my erection for her mom, but I was now getting caught up in the whole persona I was playing. I was confident I could get it up once more, and, if it took a while to finish up the mom, I could live with that. 

I walked around behind the two women, and enjoyed the view of their bare butts in the air. It was enough to create a stirring in my loins. I ran a palm over the impeccably smooth soft skin of the girl's back and butt first, and then moved over to give my attention to the mother. 

I pushed my index and middle fingers into the mother's cunt slowly but steadily. Was that a bit of moistness? As expected, she wasn't aroused to a sloppy wet tizzy, but it didn't seem that she was bone dry either. I moved around to the side of woman farthest from her daughter, and kneeled down so I could whisper in her ear.

I said, curving the woman's hair back around her ear softly and whispering in such a low tone that the daughter couldn't hear, "Mom, did you get turned on watching your little girl suck me off?"

"You're a disgusting freak. Why don't you just get this over with?" The mother said, loudly enough for all to hear. 

"Am I, now." I said referring to her insult, putting the fingers under her nose so she could smell her own scent. 

I moved back around behind the woman stroking my erection to fullness. I pushed the head of my cock against the mother's pussy, and breached her.

"You didn't say anything about doing that. That wasn't the deal." The woman said.

"I just figured that a dry ass-fucking wouldn't be that pleasurable for either of us - especially me." I said.

I punctuated my remarks by pulling out my cock, which was now slopped up, and pushing the head of it against the woman's rosebud until it yielded to me. As I proceeded to thrust harder, the woman involuntarily made noises, despite a clear attempt to show restraint, that I could not be certain whether to attribute to agony or ecstasy. It was more a prolonged throaty hum than anything, and I imagined it came through gritted teeth, but my inability to see the woman's face made that purely speculation. 

It took almost no time for the woman's cunt slop to gum up making it essentially a dry butt-fuck. I had to hand it to the woman, while she had been quick to voice objections earlier, she took the anal penetration and continued violation in stride. I might have kept it up uninterrupted if it were not for the fact that it was becoming less than pleasant for me. Between the woman's tight bung, which was clearly not broken in, and the lack of lubrication, my cock was beginning to feel the burn of skin worn raw. 

I had noted one of the green dispensers mounted on the side of the stocks, and figured it must be acceptable to use its contents since it was there. I hoped I wouldn't lose points for not just viciously plunging back into the woman's cunt to lube up, and I tried to form the thought that I was doing it so that I could increase my own endurance. If the aliens could read my mind I did not want to display concern about giving the poor lady some nasty infection. 

I withdrew and slathered my cock with the clear slippery substance. I then went back behind the woman, grabbed her around the waistline, and resumed fucking her hard in the ass. Because of my previous escapades in the day, it took me some time to approach climax. 

A few minutes after I resumed activity with the mother, the two women engaged in a brief stilted conversation.

"Are you alright, mom." 

"Yes, don't worry about me." The mother replied in a disjoint manner of speech that had a vibrato tonal quality to it owing to the shaking caused by my hips bouncing off the woman's backside.

"Just hang in there, it will be over soon." The daughter's words were lame and contrived, but, to be fair, what does one say to a loved one who is being ass-raped a few feet away. 

Then there was an extended period of silence that lasted ten or fifteen minutes. 

"Excuse me, is this going to be over soon?" The mother said in an uncharacteristically polite fashion, but with an edge of irritation and /or condescension in her voice.

"If you want it to be over, you've got to help out a little. Tell me how much you like having my cock in your ass." I said.

"I really like having your... penis in me." The woman said in an unenthusiastic monotone, while biting on the words like a person telling a proctologist that the scope feels fine.

"Horrible, it could take hours if you say it like that. I need to hear some enthusiasm." I said.

"Oh, baby, I really like when you...fuck, my ass." This time was a little better, but not by much. It was particularly noted that she nearly choked on the word "fuck". 

"Better, but it's still not doing it for me. How about if we get your daughter in on the conversation? Maybe she could tell me how much she wishes I could fuck her butt." I said.

"You..." The mother began to say, but her daughter interrupted her before she could presumably finish with the word "bastard." 

"Mom, close your ears." The daughter said to her mother.

Then the daughter spoke for my benefit, and she did it in the breathy moan-bestrewn tone of a porn star. "Oooo, I bet your big thick cock feels sooo good in the ass. I wish you were fucking me. I want you to cream my backdoor."

It sounded like the girl had put herself through college doing phone sex, and if she hadn't she should have. By the end of the first sentence I lost my rhythm and spurt my load deep into the mother's bunghole. When I pulled out, the woman's sphincter began to reject my seed, and it ran out and drizzled down her leg. 

I cleaned up with the blue dispenser, put my unit back in my pants, and left the room. 

That concluded my first day on the job. The little robot ushered me back to my little cell where I took a long and restful nap.



Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 04



I was walking down a bright white arc of corridor absent-mindedly fingering the scar on the back of my head. It had to have occurred since I arrived here, but my hair had been much longer and my memories of my past life were fuzzy. I was trying to recall whether it could have happened during that vaguely remembered period that I continued to think of as my real life - that is, back on Earth. 

The halls were quiet and empty. Despite the lack of day and night cues, both kapos and the aliens seemed to fall into a regular routine. However, perhaps owing to being on a day that was much longer than 24 Earth hours, I was slow getting used to the schedule kept by the old hands. 

"Stop!" The stern, but feminine, voice came from behind me.

I did as I was told automatically and unconsciously - as one does when one hears the word "stop" out of the blue

I turned to see that it was the female Korean kapo. She was about 15 feet behind me and continued to approach in a beeline. When she got to me, she put her hands on the outside of my shoulders and lightly pushed me back until my head touched the wall. It was not an intimate move as her arms stayed straight, but it seemed oddly familiar given our lack of interaction. She then turned to face the same direction as I, also with her back against the wall. 

"It's the implant?" She said.

"Pardon?" 

"The scar, it's from where they inserted your implant."

"What implant?"

"The one the Grokts put in your head so that they are able to read your thoughts, to make your head feel like it is about to explode, or to make you pass out."

"Grokts?"

"The aliens... it's what we call the aliens. I was told it's short for 'great octopi', but that could be bullshit. They've been called that since before I got here."

"How do you know about these implants?" 

"We once had a kapo who was a neurosurgeon. He told us that brainwaves were extraordinarily weak and full of noise. He said that, unless the physical laws existing inside this ship were different from those in our known universe, they would have to amplify and broadcast the signals to be able to read them- at least if they were not in physical contact with our skulls." She explained.

"Where is this surgeon now?"

"Dead." 

"How?"

"He engaged in subversive activities." 

"What kind of subversive activities?" 

"He tried to cut his implant out using a hand mirror and a scalpel that he had requested under the ruse that he needed them for an elaborate mind-fuck he was planning to perpetrate against one of the f-toys. He was a bright man, and knew how to control his thoughts and play the Grokts. They trusted him more than most. I think they even believed they could learn something the experiments he devised." She explained.

"Taking out the implant killed him, or they killed him for taking it out." 

"Neither, they moved him into the SAW-BL and one of the Grokts butt-raped him every day until he died of a perforated colon." 

"What's an f-toy?" I returned to a question passed over.

"Short for fuck-toy, it's every human here who isn't one of us - the SAW-BL cattle and the freezer-pops in stasis pods."

"How long have you been here?" 

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Don't you worry about them reading your thoughts right now?" 

"There are quite a few places throughout the ship, just like the bulkhead behind our skulls right now, where there is electrical interference. We may get brain cancer from hanging out here, but it doesn't seem they can read our minds in these places. That doctor built a makeshift compass. We are apparently within a magnetic field, and the compass is mostly stable. If the Grokts were telling the truth it is presumably Jupiter's field, but it may be the ship's, the Earth's, or who knows? Anyway, the doctor went around the Zoo and wherever the needle began to spin wildly, he noted it on a map as a 'thought-safe zone'. He made us memorize the zones, and then destroyed the map. It exists only in the minds of a few of us now." 

"Could you make me a copy?" I asked, desperately hoping the answer would be "yes."

I sometimes thought I might lose my mind from the shear act of trying to control my thoughts. It was both exhausting and frustrating. Furthermore, I had begun to dream more vividly as my subconscious mind adjusted to having my conscious mind reigned in. I worried about whether the aliens could read my dreams, and, if so, whether they were better at interpreting them than I. While often my dreams made no sense, escape seemed a popular underlying current of my subconscious mind. 

"Not until you've shown you're not a risk to the rest of us. We can't have such evidence lying around."

"How do I show that?"

"Never mind about that now. We can't loiter here long. For the time being, I suggest you think of nothing but screwing f-toys. I've got to go. We've been at this too long." She said and started off in the direction we had both been initially traveling.

"I have many questions." 

"Believe me, there'll be plenty of time for them, but not now. My name is Sung-mi. I've got to go." 

"My name is..." I started to say, but she was already around the bend.

I had a quick thought about what I had been told. It was like taking a deep breath before swimming under water, or, for a smoker, taking that last drag before you go into a hospital for visiting hours. Then I moved off honoring Sung-mi's demand that I not loiter. 

I went to the SAW-BL. There was a monitor there where I could access my taskings for the day (if you wanted to call it a "day.") I didn't have any experiments to participate in until much later, but I had a few routine duties to carry out. I had an insemination to conduct on of one of the station 3 women. Insemination made it sound so clinical, like I would be using a big syringe rather than my cock for the procedure. I had to collect two more "samples" of ejaculate from the same transgender female I had seen being "milked" during my first visit to the SAW-BL. I wondered what the interest was in that particular individual's semen. Who knew what kind of voodoo "science" was that was being practiced here. Then there were a couple individuals, one male and one female, to be tormented for reasons also unbeknownst to me. Sometimes this meant sticking a dildo in various orifices for an amount of time required by the tasking order, but sometimes we were allowed to just be creative. 

I decided to start at the top of the list. I found the woman in station three. Her knees pointed towards the ceiling and her legs were spread wide. I stroked myself to a state of erection. The woman had brown skin and dark areolas, and her hefty breasts spread out under gravity's force. There was no evidence of tensing or squirming as I worked my cock into her with several progressively deepening thrusts. She was either completely resigned to her fate, or she was dead inside. 

I continued to thrust for several minutes until my nuts tightened and I squeezed out a couple shots of cum into her. It was such a sterile transaction. On some level it was pleasurable, but I could see how it could get insanely boring as well. I patted the woman's leg a couple times as I extracted myself from her and cleaned off. The patting was a little bit like something one would do to a pet. I understood the term "f-toy" now. I was dehumanizing the subjects as did the others. I turned the thoughts away, lest I begin to get too contemplative and empathize.

As I was moving over to station four, the male Indian kapo came into station three. I hadn't seen him recently. 

"I don't think we've formally met. Sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner - and that I was a little cold - but many kapos don't make it more than a few days. It sucks getting to know someone and the next thing you know they are an f-toy in one of your experiments. Anyway, I'm Amal." He said extending his hand. 

"No problem, I understand. My name is..." Just as I was introducing myself, the surly Grokt I had seen on my first day wheeled into the room. 

"We'd better get to work." Amal said and went to the subject next to the one I had just screwed. He sank his fingers, squeezed tightly together, into the woman's vagina until his entire hand had disappeared into the woman's sex. He proceeded to scramble his arm around inside her like he was playing triangle in a punk rock band. 

It was hard to reconcile the friendly likable young man with the vicious pussy-punching maniac. He was the friendliest Kapo I had met with respect to his interactions with other Kapo, but there was also no one meaner to the f-toys. I could hear the sustained hum of the woman screaming inside the "helmet box." As the surly alien was busy at station one, I had the leisure to be transfixed by what Amal was doing. Amal yanked his arm out as if he were starting a chainsaw, and then, much to my surprise, he took his limp dick out and pee'd into the woman's now slack opening like it was a high-precision urinal. 

I found myself turning away at that point. I had to pick up a beaker-like jar from one of the racks in a built-in set of cabinets near station five. 

It was interesting that the shemale was completely hairless despite being held up in this place for who knows how long. I had no reason to believe there was a fleet of pube-trimming robots working the nightshift. 

I was still a little uncomfortable with touching the junk of another person even if that other person had a set of nice perky tits. However, the anonymity of the SAW-BL helped. I set the beeker down for the time-being and seized the flaccid little mushroom and began to yank it to life. The way I saw it, it wasn't a date, so there was no need in engaging in niceties. The shemale's unit grew quickly to about five inches in length. To the degree that she could move, she seemed to push into to the hand job, and I realized that, like the girl who had given me a hummer on my first day, this individual seemed to be a willing participant for reasons as to which I could only speculate. 

It was not a difficult job. I had to admit, I had my fair share of experience jerking off - until a few days prior it had entirely been with my own member - but the knowledge translated. It only took a few minutes for the ladyboy to dump her first load, and it was an impressive amount. I expected the small genitals to produce minimal juice, but apparently you can't judge the spunk by the pistol shooting it. I had almost missed getting the beaker over the dick, but managed to do so at the last possible instant. I took a sigh of relief as I realized how narrowly I had averted having to scoop up the milky sludge from wherever it landed. The second go took the better part of a half an hour to yield a much less impressive set of droplets. 

I decided to get the male torment session out of the way first since I was still less comfortable with engaging in such contact and liked to get objectionable tasks out of the way. For both torment sessions I would be allowed to do as I pleased, but just needed to make each session last for 20 minutes. The sessions were not always 20 minutes. In fact, this was one of shorter of such sessions. The point was, no doubt, to not let the f-toy know how long the session might last. Today they might be pleasantly surprised, but the next time it might go for two-and-a-half hours and they would be praying for it to end swiftly like this one did.

The man was in station two, and, thus, was on all fours. I had gone to one of the cabinets and pulled some of the props I would use for this session. First, there was a sleek black cylinder capped with one hemispherical end. It was about nine inches long and 2-1/2 inches thick. Second, there was a set of three spring-loaded clamps that looked similar to items I had seen on Earth, but with the notable exception that one could press an indent on the inside of one of the levering handles and, with a momentary delay, a powerful shock would be delivered to the individual. Don't ask me how I discovered the clamps delivered a shock; that is an embarrassing story for another occasion. Needless to say, the orientation day had not included explanations of such minutiae. The final instrument of torment was a whip that looked reminiscent of a thorny sapling branch. 

When I walked up behind the man, I slapped his nuts with the back of my hand to wake him up and get him ready for the session. He tensed up hard and his flabbier parts shook. It was a dark brown-skinned man with tight curly black hairs in his nether region. He was stereotypically well-endowed. I put some of the lube from the dispenser directly on the smooth black cylinder and rolled it around on the man's backside so that I did not need to touch the slimy slippery substance or the big dildo, which I'm sure was cleaned to a high degree of cleanliness, but still.

The man was apparently a relatively new SAW-BL subject and the dildo did not breach his backside easily. Instead, I had to pound on its flat end with the palm of my hand in the manner of getting stubborn ketchup out of a glass bottle. I was also clearly new. Had I not been, I would have known enough not to engage in the awkward plate-spinning operation that resulted from putting the dildo in before attaching the clamps. The man's ass kept trying to spit the foreign object out, so I would pinch the skin and put one clip on, then shove the shaft back in, then do the other clamp, and then resume shoving the dildo back in to him. All the while I had to be careful to avoid inadvertently setting a charge and shocking the shit out of myself. I worked the big dildo in and out and even side-to-side and up-and-down a little. I tried to emulate a little of Amal's viciousness without risking killing the guy like the Grokt had the neurosurgeon. When my arm became tired, I clicked both the shock-charges and watched the man convulse against his restraints. 

Looking at the timer, I could see that I still had the better part of ten minutes to occupy. The little devil that resided on one of my shoulders came up with an idea that I couldn't believe I had devised because of both its deviousness and the nature of the activity required. The man was uncircumcised, and so I was able put one of the little shock-charge clamps over the foreskin at the opening of his penis. I then began to manually milk the cock. I was wondering if the plan would even work - if he would even be capable of climax in the allotted time and if the clamp would stay in place once he was turgid. It took a couple minutes for him to even grow to full rigidity. My concern that I wouldn't be able to complete the little experiment caused me to be more furious in my tugging. With only about 15 seconds to spare, I noted pre-cum and cum oozing down from between his foreskin and the clamp. I hit the shock button and stepped back. The shock was delivered up the man's urethra along the conduit of jizz all the way to his nuts. I thought the man would break out of his restraints, so severe was his reaction. 

I kept the thorny sapling, as I had not used it, but threw the clamps and dildo in the sanitizer bin. Then I went and got some fresh clamps. While we were encouraged to be as savage as we could be, it was important to the aliens to minimize exposure to the spread of disease. They apparently surveilled and treated against venereal diseases, but were concerned about any number of other ailments that might pop up under unhygienic conditions. 

The subject was on her back. As a wake up call, I pinched the woman's clit between my thumb and index finger and twisted sharply. I could hear her stifled howl through the "helmet-box". I then proceeded to whack her pussy repetitively with the little thorny sapling. She wriggled in her restraints, and she was so thin and flexible - I could see her hip bone under skin - I thought she might succeed in gaining some momentary freedom, but it was not to be. When her labia and clit were verging on purplish-red, I stopped. I was ready to go again, so I pulled out my cock and rubbed its smooth hardness against her. I entered her and began to thrust as hard as I could. It was therapeutic. When I was ready to climax, I pulled out and shot the spunk into the palm of one of my hands. I had been shown how to access the feeding tube portal, and so I drizzled my seed into the tube. The next time the woman took a hit on her feeding / hydration tube, she would first get a slug of my jizm in her mouth. I had a few minutes remaining so I put the shock-charge clips on one of the woman's nipples and one of her labia, and alternated delivering shocks for the remainder of the session. 

The lack of sleep having caught up with me, I retired to my quarters for a nap. I had a couple experiments to participate in, but had sufficient time to have an extended nap before hand. 

I was awake earlier than I needed to be to get to the first of the two experiments. On my way to the first experiment I went by the "think-zone" that Sung-mi had earlier showed me, pretending to be looking for something, and spent some time thinking about escape and masking my thoughts. Sung-mi was probably right. It was easier if one just took some pleasure in the job of fucking and tormenting the f-toys. Otherwise, it was very hard to not be thinking incriminating thoughts all the time. It was safer, but it seemed to me that it was potentially maddening as well. The last free thought I had before leaving the electromagnetic field was to psych myself up to be the bastard I needed to be. 

When I got to the operations room of the chamber of my first experiment, I downloaded my instructions. This was an easy one for me. I just had to deliver instructions, oversee the events, and then upload a statement of my observations. I looked into the chamber, and the instructions were immediately clear.

There were two individuals in the room. There was a young man strapped securely onto a table on his back. He was thin and pale, and you could see most of his ribs. He had a messy mop of blond hair. There was also a woman, who was seated in a chair and also restrained, though not to nearly the same extent as the young man. The woman was probably twice the young man's age. She was a little on the heavy side, but had an impressive set of tits on her as a result of it. Like her son, she was pale and likely would have been blond as well if she were not a redhead by dye. 

I entered the chamber and looked from the young man to the woman and back. Then I spoke. "Listen up, mom. Your son is about to start experiencing abdominal pain. One thing will bring an end to it, and that is to have an orgasm. If he nuts within the first eight minutes, his body will recover just fine. After that, his body will likely experience permanent damage. After twenty minutes there's a high probability he'll be dead, and after 30 minutes death is a virtual certainty."

"Don't do this. Let us go. Leave him out of this. I'll ... I'll do..." The cherubic-faced momma's teary-eyed and crackling-voiced imploration made it a challenge to continue being a jackass, but I was not all together without skills in this regard.

Just then the woman's restraints popped open. 

"Oooooh!" The operator had apparently started microwaving the poor guy, or whatever they were doing to him. Mom went to her son, and tried to pull away his restraints, but they were as strong as steal. 

"A piece of advice, don't waste a bunch of time begging me for mercy, it's only going to increase the likelihood your kid's internal organs will be fried." I said.

"What do you want from us?" Mom said.

"I don't want anything. I'm just telling you, if you don't get your little boy off, he's going to die." I said, and my statement was punctuated by a blood-curdling scream from the young man. 

"How... do I do it?" 

"Any way you want. He's the evidence that you know how to have sex. He wasn't a test-tube baby, was he?"




Sex Zoo 2.2: Entry 04



She began to stroke him with her hand. It took him a couple minutes to even get hard, and I was beginning to wonder if he would be able to achieve an erection given the pain wracking his body. The boy closed his eyes, and I wondered if he was ashamed of the pleasure he was feeling or embarrassed for his mother. Possibly it was both in some measure. Was he trying to fantasize that it was someone else giving him a handjob? A starlet? A girlfriend? The local coffee shop cashier? Or was he thinking of exactly the woman who was jacking him off? 

The mother was coming undone. She was exceedingly concerned about the passage of time. The boy had gotten a stiffy, but was showing no signs of approaching climax. His body tried to curl into a fetal position to contend with the internal burning in his midsection, but the restraints prevented him from doing anything but lifting his head off the table and tensing his muscles. Tomorrow he would be sore even if he got out of this with no permanent damage from whatever rays or particles were bombarding him. 

"Tick-tock, momma-bear. You may want reevaluate your strategy... I'm just saying." I said.

The woman looked over at me with an evil eye. Then she looked like she was on the verge of starting to sob. Without lubrication, the hand-job friction was increasing, and soon she'd be rubbing the skin raw rather than pleasuring it.

"You've heard that insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result. Do you really want your little boy to buy the farm because the most you were willing to do was give him a little hand action." I said.

"You're a son-of-a-bitch." She replied. 

"But, of course. But it doesn't make me wrong." I retorted.

She took the purple head of the young man's cock into her mouth and began to suck. He let out an involuntary moan of pleasure. It was almost instantaneous that he began to writhe and grunt in an apparent climax. 

"Owww" He cried out in pain. 

"Kid, even if your acting skills were a hell of a lot better, believe me, you wouldn't be able to fool them." I said. 

I had been almost certain that the young man was faking the orgasm because his behavior seemed contrived and the mother did not immediately respond in the normal manner for someone getting a surprise load of hot jizm squeezed off into her mouth. However, when the man's pain continued, my certainty about his duplicity grew. 

His mother pulled her mouth off him, perhaps because she expect he was really cumming while he pretended to tense and groan. 

"Who is 'them'?" She asked in response to my last statement.

"This isn't the time for a Q&A. Your time is wasting." 

It must have been rapidly approaching the eight minute barrier. In her panic, she was now not willing to give her previous approach more time. The woman climbed on top of the table and straddled the young man. She working the young man's prick into her sex with several up and down motions, each of which swallowed a little more of the man's rod until she was taking it all inside her. She then leaned forward as she moved forward and aft while undulating her hips to ride her boy's shaft. She began to talk to him in whispers, and I stepped forward to here.

"Try and relax and just let it happen. Don't worry about me, or think about me. Just feel it. It feels good doesn't it? It's OK to enjoy it." She spoke with her nice soft smooth orbs compressed between their chests and her dark red locks hanging down to envelope his face. 

This time the spasms of his orgasm were genuine, and it was clear that he was not fully in control of his body. He tried to stifle the sounds of pleasure, but only partially succeeded in doing so. 

"There. He did it. Now stop..."

"Mom..., it's done. It doesn't hurt any more."

"How long has it been? Is he going to be OK?"

"Yeah. He'll be fine." I said as I exited the chamber. The truth was I had only a vague idea how long it had been, and had no basis on which to say whether the kid would be alright or not, but, as the experiment was over, I saw no reason to be gratuitously mean. Besides, it was probably a bluff; the aliens wouldn't really waste a subject out of a need for honesty, or so I thought. 

In the observation room I had to record my observations and views of the session. The aliens, no doubt, had a complete recording of the events that transpired, but, nonetheless, seemed to value the kapos' statements for their insight into how a human viewed the situation. By the time I finished it was only a short time until my next session - my final official duty of the day. 

I entered the observation room for my next experiment to see that Sung-mi and the African kapo they called Adjoa had already convened. Looking into the chamber, I could see why there were multiple kapo present. There was a partition wall set up with eight stations each with a through it. The robots were scurrying about moving unconscious f-toys into position behind the partition. The robots were not at all like what I had come to expect from shows like "Lost in Space". They were mostly configured for their functions, and so most of those working in the chamber looked like high-tech chairs on wheels because they were used for fork-lifting unconscious f-toys around. Between the self-explanatory nature of the set up and a conversation with the other kapo, I didn't need to download instructions this time. 

"So you've got eight f-toys on one side of a partition. Let me guess, some poor sap has got to fuck them all and guess which one is his Aunt Mildred?" I said, only joking at the periphery.

Adjoa cracked a smile, but Sung-mi maintained her usual stern glower. "Close. Eight guys will each fuck one of the f-toys on the other side, either in the ass or the mouth, and they each have to guess whether the one they were sticking it to was a male or female." Adjoa said. 

"That's got a pretty predictable outcome, doesn't it?" I said rhetorically. 

If they randomly picked the males, there was a high likelihood that a substantial majority, or possibly the whole group, would be straight. These men would likely overwhelmingly pick "female" out of wishful thinking, even if deep down they thought they were pitching for the other team. At first I thought his was a complete waste of time, but then I realized that the aliens may not engage in wishful thinking, and, therefore, this might not at all be self-evident to them. Humans whistle through graveyards, but the Grokts might not.

I went out into the chamber. The fuckers hadn't been brought in yet, but the fuckees were almost all secured. Of the eight, four were male and four female. Four of the individuals had their heads strapped to the wall such that their mouths were aligned with the holes, and the other four were positioned with their asses aligned with the hole while lying on their backs with their feet uncomfortably against the wall like they were squatting but horizontally. There was a wave of thrashing as the f-toys were brought back to consciousness and found themselves fastened into a wall for some unknown, but presumably nefarious purpose. Presumably they were all without memory of past such exploits, and so this would be a fresh nightmare. Those who were to be butt-fucked had gags in their mouths, and so most of the muffled noise was made by those with their faces to the wall. 

It was my task to give directions to them before the fuckers were brought in to the chamber. I proceeded to give a little speech that I made up in the chamber. Sung-mi and Adjoa were not so much about talking, so they left this chore to me, and, instead, they took the jobs that would involve being more physically abusive, while I just had to deliver the cruel words. 

"Ladies and gentleman, in a few minutes some men are going to be brought into the room and they are going to stick their dicks through those holes and into your ass or mouth. I'm sure you can tell which by your position. I suggest that those getting dicked in the ass relax and try to enjoy it, because it's only going to hurt worse if you tense up and eventually they will succeed in cramming themselves into your backdoor anyway. We've got all night, and no one gets to go until each of you has had a load deposited in you. For those taking it in the mouth, do not try to bite down on the cock in your mouth. First of all, that dick may just belong to one of your loved one's. They are hapless victims just like you, and, like you, they have no idea who is on the other side of the wall. Secondly, you will be punished severely for such bad behavior." I said, and raised a hand resulting in a simultaneous group convulsion as someone in the control room briefly triggered all their implants all at once in a demonstration sending spikes of lightening through their brains. 

I resumed. "So if you dial into your inner slut, this will all be over soon. Be a slut for science, and everyone goes home happy." 

Adjoa and Sung-mi brought the fuckers into the chamber in manacles. The more demoralizing part for the men doing the fucking may have occurred before they even stuck their dicks into those holes. Instead of allowing each man to jack himself off to erection, the two kapo came up with a scheme whereby the odd numbered men turned to their right and the even numbered men turned to their left such that they were paired off facing each other, and each member of pairing had to stroke the other to the point of erection. It was an awkward tasking with the shackles on their wrists. It was just one of the ever-present mind-fucks perpetrated here. When the men fucked someone through a glory-hole, their taboos could remain unbroken in their own minds because they could rationalize that they had had sex with a woman even if some part of them suspected it was untrue. However, the hand-jobs were an unambiguous violation of most of the men's taboos. Of course, they could have been made to do much worse, and that they weren't was telling as well.

One of the men apparently particularly objected, and he made a swing at Adjoa with both fists fingers interlocked, but the attacker crumpled into a heap before his fist had covered half the distance to the black kapo. I'd seen this kind of thing before. The f-toys were always trying to run or fight. One couldn't blame them; I'd like to think I'd do the same if I hadn't fallen into this cherry deal with the devil. I didn't know whether the aliens had automated this knockout process or whether the observation room robots were exceedingly quick, but it always ended in the same manner - with the aggressor or fugative lying unconscious on the floor. As long as the implant was rattling around in one's skull, there seemed to be no escape. 

Adjoa kicked the unconscious man in the ribs. I didn't know if he was genuinely pissed, or whether he felt he needed to send a signal. This was a potentially dangerous affair. Even with three kapo, we were radically outnumbered by people who'd like to skin us alive. Their hatred made it easier to antagonize them, but I'd nonetheless be swilling antacid if they had such a product on this ship. 

Sung-mi motioned for me to assist her. We dragged the crumpled man around the partition wall, and put him randomly in place of one of the male fuckees, and then made sure he was conscious. We then brought the freed man around to take the aggressive f-toy's place.

"Does anyone else hate fucking so much that they want to be moved to the other side so they can get a dick stuck up their ass?" Sung-mi asked the rhetorical question with escalating volume to make clear her displeasure. When there were no takers she added, "yeah, that's what I thought." 

There were quite a range of fuckers. At the large end of the spectrum was one was so well-hung that he would be making a corndog out of the individual across the partition from him, and, at the other end, was one who would probably barely get his puny dick through the partition wall. 

When the last fucker was erect, they were told to turn and face the wall. I took up position at the end of the partition wall, and mostly kept an eye on the receivers. Sung-mi and Adjoa walked behind the fuckers and, for those withholding, pushed their backsides to make sure they were using a full stroke that gave all they had to those on the other side of the partition wall. 

The first man to come did so, pathetically, in about three strokes. Apparently, the tight ass was too much for him to bear. Gradually others followed, and within twenty minutes all had shot their loads. The results were not unexpected. Seven of the men guessed they had been fucking a female, and three of them were wrong. 

As I walked back to my room, I considered how my transformation seemed to be complete. I was like the other kapo now, and how little it had taken to get me there.