An uncomfortable shiver ran up Melissa's spine as she scrawled her signature on the marked line. She shoved the document away before she could change her mind, passing it to the sharply dressed older man across the table. Her options were few, and this was one of the worst. Given the choice, she would have rathered deal with the devil himself. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know, an unholy amalgam of used car salesman and family law attorney. Whatever they did to her, she could at least take solace that her mother would be taken care of. Life had been rough since the death of her father; neither woman had any meaningful job prospects, and working at the local diner only helped so much. They were effectively homeless, riding on their landlord's compassion. She was drowning in a sea of debt, and Kohl Pharmaceuticals lent a hand. They would pay her rent and expenses for life, even going so far as to guarantee medical care for both her and her mother. All they asked for in exchange was her body. “When you are ready, the man outside will take you to your quarters. We like to give our new test subjects some time to adjust before they participate in any trials. Nervous subjects make for bad results.” “Do you have any idea what they'll do to me?” “Sorry dear, but I'm just an attorney. Even if they saw fit to tell me, I doubt I would understand. You should not worry so much; our subject mortality rate is only 0.4%. Kohl Pharmaceuticals is on the cutting-edge of restorative medication and trauma care. After your month is up, you'll probably come out fitter and healthier than you came in.” It had to be an incredible talent to say so much yet do so little to reassure her. “Don't worry, we can fix whatever we break” was not a very comforting promise. Given her situation, it was probably as good as she was going to get. She thanked him flatly for his help before leaving through the open door. Sure enough, a middle-aged man in green scrubs and a face mask was waiting for her outside. Without a word, he led her through the featureless, white corridors. Windowless doors alone gave any sense of distance or progress as she walked mindlessly through what was apparently called “Subject Housing Block D”. She had been walking for a good five minutes when she was suddenly struck by the scale of this operation. There must have been hundreds of rooms in this wing alone, and the name implied there were also A, B, and C blocks somewhere – drug companies were rarely known for their whimsy. A strange sense of solidarity calmed her aching nerves, a reassurance that she was not alone. These days, being indigent was practically par for the course. It was not surprising that so many would sell the only thing they had left. “This is it. Room 1601. Everything you need is in there. A technician will come to pick you up in the morning.” She would have walked right into him if he had not spoken, lost in her own thoughts after giving up trying to find entertainment in the minimalist decor. The room was sparsely furnished but sizable, larger than what she became used to after they were evicted from their family home. There was even a bathroom, even if it was just a shower, toilet, and sink in the corner. The door closed behind her and locked, an uncomfortable reminder of her predicament. For the next month, she had no real rights, having signed them away in what was feeling more and more like a Faustian pact. Even worse, she was exhausted. She had been up since the day before, unable to sleep through the night and then sneaking out of the apartment early in the morning. Her tired eyes floated between the plain bed and the shower before deciding that a shower could wait, falling into bed fully dressed. Despite her anxiety, sleep came quickly. “It is now 6:00am. Please ensure that all hygiene standards are met within the hour.” Melissa awoke with a start, pulling the pillow around her ears to deaden the drone of the repeating message. When it finally stopped, she dragged herself lethargically out of bed, torn between the comfort of sleep and fear of the consequences of failure on her first day. She stumbled towards the shower, disrobing as she walked. The water was pleasantly warm, reinvigorating her slight frame. She was only barely an adult and her body showed it, lacking the feminine curves of her family's more aged women. She was not by any means unattractive, simply possessed of a more “athletic” build. Her face was certainly attractive, soft and feminine and set with dark green eyes. Hot water beat down on her back as she rinsed the soap from her shoulder-length brown hair. She had plenty of time and planned to use it. She certainly had little else to do. She washed her body vigorously with the strong but odorless soap they provided, glad to finally feel human again as the sweat and grime of two days of stress rinsed down the drain. After half an hour she emerged, red and pruned and began to dry off. Still steaming from the shower, she sought clean clothes, rummaging through the small dresser next to her bed. The contents of each drawer was the same, crinkly blue hospital gowns stacked in neat piles. At least she didn't have to worry about what to wear. She slipped into one, tying it behind her back before turning to examine the rest of the room in greater detail. Aside from the speaker above her bed, there was little else to see. Her stomach reminded her that it liked to be fed in the mornings, though she was in no position to deal with that. She flopped back down on the bed, drifting in an out of consciousness until the door opened, dragging her back to the waking world. “Please follow me. You are to get started right away.” A man in green scrubs, possibly the one from the day before, announced his presence. His tone was businesslike but not particularly harsh. Nothing about the man looked as if he cared past his job description, appearing more tired than she and even less enthused. She was at least nervous. He was downright bored. Melissa followed without protest, following her guide back into the tangled mass of featureless hallways. Her stomach twisted as they left the relative familiarity of the residential blocks and entered what was labeled “Testing Block 3”. A multitude of employees and other subjects marched quietly through the wide hall, the first faces she had seen since she signed on. It did not take long for her to notice that she was alone in being alone, all the other blue-clad subjects in long lines behind a single green technician. “Why am I not in a group like everyone else?” “Generally, test subjects are sorted at random into any study they are fit to participate in. It helps maintain a pure sample set, or something like that. I guess that you were requested specifically by a particular faculty member, though I have no idea why. It's nothing to worry about, it happens pretty often.” Though the hall was otherwise silent, no one seemed particularly disturbed by their conversation. The employees all looked disinterested and the test subjects were a mixture of bored, nervous, and barely awake. When Melissa was younger, she had considered studying to work for a research lab, principally because of her father's lingering illness. While she no longer had the option due to circumstance, she wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't for the better. Science was not as glamorous or exciting as it seemed. Her life was hard, but at least it was interesting. The throng thinned as they walked deeper into the research block, dwindling until she and her guide alone remained. The air hummed with the invisible efforts of various hidden machines droning incoherently in the empty hall. Her anxiety grew with every numbered door they passed. She was different, somehow. She did not want to be different. She wanted to be with the other subjects where she could at least feel safe, even if she was not. Well, she actually wanted out completely, but that was no longer an option. Before she could worry herself to a fit, her guide motioned to her to stop. “This is the place,” he said, gesturing to the closest door, “go in and another technician will assist you from here. Good luck.” He watched her silently, no doubt charged with ensuring her delivery. She had half a mind to ask him why he felt the need to wish her luck, but also knew that she might not want to know the answer. She approached, door sliding open silently as she drew near and closing again the moment she stepped inside. This was it. She blinked in surprise, taken aback at the sudden change as she crossed the threshold. Whereas the rest of the facility was slightly cold and sterile to the point of being unsettling, the lab downright hot and and cluttered so densely that she couldn't see more than ten feet in any direction. Endless rows of shelves held an assortment of books and utensils for purposes that she could only imagine. Were it not for the glare of the fluorescent lights and ever-present white tiling, she would have thought herself in a wizard's workshop. She was about to call out and announce her presence when a voice called out. “Ah, one of my subjects as arrived. Which one are you, Melissa or...” “Yes, Melissa,” she answered the disembodied voice, silently kicking herself for not letting him finish. “You're waiting on others?” “Just one. Apparently, there has been some kind of issue and she has been delayed. In any case, come in. We might as well get started. No point in wasting time.” Sure enough, there was a narrow trail to the larger section of the lab. Melissa followed it, careful to avoid touching anything. She had no idea what any of the equipment was for, but it looked expensive. She threaded her way through the isle, stopping as soon as she emerged from the clutter. It took but a glance around for her anxiety to come back to the fore. In the clearing stood a man, likely in his forties, with shoulder-length black hair tied sloppily behind his head. He wore a crisp white lab coat, which only further emphasized the wholly inappropriate slogan t-shirt and cargo shorts. The unkempt beard that covered most of his face did little to salvage his appearance: he looked like a hobo. Behind him stood a pair of large white tubes with clearly visible doors. This could not possibly end well. “Hello and welcome to my laboratory. Coffee?” “No?” “Just as well. We wouldn't want to have to stop to give you bathroom breaks, now would we. So. You ready?” Melissa struggled to form words as she took in the situation. She didn't quite know what she expected, but it certainly wasn't this. “Oh, forgive me. I never introduced myself. Dr. Robert. Pleased to meet you.” He smiled like it was going out of style, though there were no signs that he was faking it. Dr. Roberts seemed to be, by all accounts, the only happy person she had yet seen here. The pot of coffee in his hand probably helped. She watched in horror as he lifted it to his mouth, drinking directly from the carafe. “What do I need to do? I just got here and I don't really-” “Do? Nothing. I'm going to perform some tests, take some data, and you'll have to take an exit survey. Chances are, we'll even be done with phase one before your allotted month, which means you'll just get to sit around all day for a week or so. I wouldn't let anyone else touch my samples.” “Wait, phase one?” “Yes. Phase one is now. Phase two is later. That can be done at any hospital and will probably only take a day. Phase three doesn't even involve you, so don't worry about it.” “Hold on. So what am I doing?” “I'll explain when the other subject gets here. Until then, let's get you all locked in and comfortable. We're already behind, no point in wasting time. Plus, I wouldn't want to spoil anything.” Dr. Robert practically ran to one of the mysterious tubes, pulling off the door. Inside was a small, black padded seat complete with a back and head rest. It was surrounded on all sides by cabinetry, making its purpose impossible to determine without seeing it in use. She approached nervously, as though walking to the pole for a firing squad. “Come on now, double-time. Nothing's gonna hurt you. Promise. You'll actually probably enjoy it. Now get in there.” Melissa sat down uneasily, reminded of the unique nature of her garments when her exposed groin met the seat. She settled in with a frown, shifting herself to make the thin seat slightly more comfortable. Now inside the contraption, she noticed a quartet of holes above and below her that disappeared into the darkness of the machine. “Hands up and through the holes. Grab on when you feel the handles. Feet, too. Get your legs in there.” She reached up first with her left hand, eons of evolutionary instinct telling her not to put her dominant hand into a mysterious hole. As soon as she reached as far as she could, there was a faint metallic click as a thin metal bar pressed up against her hand. She wrapped her fingers around it cautiously, more surprised than relieved that nothing bad had happened. With a bit more confidence, she did the same with her right hand, gripping the handle at the end firmly. Similarly, she felt her way into the holes by her feet, spreading her legs a bit more than was comfortable in the process. With a familiar set of clicks, a pair of padded plates rushed up to her feet, giving her something other than her groin to rest her weight on. She took the opportunity to shift her position, finding the contraption surprisingly comfortable once she was inside it. “Alright. Locking now. Don't move.” The walls of the tubes suddenly inflated, expanding into the hollow to wrap around her arms and legs. She yelped and tried to pull her limbs out, but found them held fast. The pads were soft but had almost no give, engulfing her extremities in a manner similar to a blood pressure cuff but surprisingly comfortable. “I don't know why I told you not to move. That sound scared the shit out of me. In any case, I can start hooking you in.” His short walk was interrupted by a soft voice coming from the door. “Maggie? Wonderful, come and back and we'll get started. Hurry, now. I'm really far behind. You have no idea how long it took me to find test subjects.” He turned back to Melissa, adjusting a pair of cushions on the sides of her head. She tracked the other woman's footsteps until they came to a stop at the entrance to the makeshift testing chamber. “I'll be with you in just one second, Maggie. Just let me finish...there.” The pads locked in place on either side of her head. He turned to face the new arrival, stepping out of the way to let Melissa see. “Mom?” “Melissa?” “And Dr. Robert. Now that we're all acquainted, why don't you have a seat over-” “What are you doing with my daughter? Is this your version of 'take care of'?” “Easy now, I have nothing to do with this. You both volunteered. Fifteen minutes apart, I'm told. I was going to give you two a chance for a touching reunion, but you ruined it now. Now hurry up and take a seat over there.” Melissa returned her mother's disapproving gaze. She really had no room to judge, considering. Surprisingly, Maggie complied almost immediately, sitting in the other pod and following the doctor's instructions. Due to the restraints around her head, Melissa could only see her mother out of the corner of her eye, but what she saw was not surprising. Maggie had always been a grimly determined person, even more so since her husband's death. Her face betrayed nothing but the resolution to finish whatever was asked of her as quickly as possible, finishing the lock-in procedure in less than a minute and retreating to his desk. “I'm glad that at least one of you is working on a schedule. I swear, kids these days have no sense of urgency.” “Can you at least say what you're going to do with us?” “Oh, right. I probably should explain at some point. Basically, I'm testing a drug to encourage heritability of stress-induced epigentic modifications for post hoc and multigenerational genetic therapy. That's why it took me so long to get suitable test subjects. You have no idea how rare it is to get young, genetically related women as volunteers.” Before Melissa had the chance to ask what any of that meant, a sharp prick jabbed at the base of her neck. Almost immediately, she began to feel dizzy and was even having a hard time staring straight ahead. She tried to speak but found that she could not form words, her mouth and tongue too uncoordinated to produce anything but incoherent mumbling. The drug spread through her body, relaxing her limbs into forced compliance. She tried to struggle, but she could manage little more than wriggling in her bonds. She wasn't weakening, she just couldn't control her body. As the first syringe withdrew, a second took its place, this one directly into her spine, a few vertebrae above her tailbone. It hurt like nothing she ever felt before, as though stabbing directly into a nerve. She tried to scream but could manage little more than a whimper as her body fought her conscious control. Even worse than the pain was the apparent effect of the medication. A gentle heat began to build between her legs as blood pumped into the region, flushing the skin and engorging her tissues with anticipation. The heat built with uncomfortable speed, quickly surpassing ordinary arousal. She began to pant as a pool of warm wetness grew on the narrow seat between her legs. Worst of all was that she could hear the same thing happening to her mother, her moans and panting almost as loud as her own. “Excellent. It seems that the drugs are working properly. One of you has also been injected with my experimental drug, though I can't tell you which until phase two. All we need to do is get your feeding and hydration tubes into place, get your video systems rolling, and we'll be ready to start.” Melissa rocked against her seat, frotting involuntarily with the soaked cushion. Her mouth hung open, accepting the intruding tube without resistance. It slid smoothly down her throat, her gag reflex suppressed by the cocktail of drugs in her blood. Drool leaked steadily from her open mouth, rolling down her chin and dripping down to join the puddle at her crotch. When she could no longer feel the tube dive deeper into her body, a small, black screen dropped in front of her eyes. It flicked to life a moment later, displaying a close-up of her mother, bound as she but also naked, sweat-slick chest heaving in shameless arousal. Her friends had often told Melissa that she looked just like her mother, all except for the difference in their body types. Whereas she was thin and of few curves, her mother was built like a fertility goddess, with breasts enough to overflow anyone's hands and hips a good six inches wider than her shoulders. She was still under forty, but her body looked younger yet, supple and perky as a woman's half her age. The sight of her mother so bound and panting elicited a new pang of unwelcome arousal. She knew that it was only the drugs talking, but the knowledge provided little comfort as unsolicited fantasies invaded her mind. A pair of gentle hands undid her own garments behind her back, no doubt exposing her in all her nude glory to the woman that birthed her. Rather than shame, she only felt a slight tinge of jealousy at her mother's sumptuous body being compared to her own. She watched as the seat between Maggie's legs retreated, leaving her to drip directly onto the machine below. Only when she struggled for friction against her own needy slit did she realize that hers had disappeared as well. The space where her drippings had been collecting opened, revealing a new armature that slowly approached her mother's sex. Atop the rising platform sat an open crescent set with a pair of stout, irregularly shaped rods. It slowly approached the other woman's bare sex, stopping just shy of contact. Clear, viscous fluid poured from the tips of as they began to move once again. A moment later, a pair of points pressed against Melissa's own holes, spreading her slowly. She stretched easily around the intruding shafts, their passage eased by their warm lubricant and her own slippery need. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as the gnarled lengths plunged deeper inside her, opening her wider with every inch of its tapered length. Her unexplored ass struggled to accept the phallus' girth, stretching to its limit even as it spasmed in pleasure. The rod began to spin and thrust slowly, working its way deeper by a mere fraction of an inch each time. The rods diving into her mother had no such trouble, filling her more practiced holes with ease. She closed her eyes to focus on the sensation of the pumping shaft, moaning in pleasure as she reached the hilt of the phallic array. Hundreds of unseen ridges and nubs pressed against her taint and slit, tickling and denting the sensitive skin. Then, they began to vibrate. She screamed out in pleasure, voice mingling in chorus with her mother's as their bodies trembled. Before she could adjust to the sensation, the twinned shafts inside her began to move, one withdrawing slowly while the other plunged deeper still. Their pace offered no time to recover, a relentless pounding that would make even a whore blush. The bumps and protrusions on the fake cocks sought her most sensitive spots, servos whining as they adjusted path and angle for optimal stimulation. With every thrust they grew more accurate until she could not help but scream as a trio of soft bumps struck her g-spot. Every subsequent stroke hit the same spot, robbing her of breath. The pleasure came to a head, driving her over the edge and headlong into orgasm. She whined as she came, straining lamely against her bonds as wave after wave of pleasure assaulted her body and mind. It seemed to last forever, dragged on and on by the unrelenting pace of the paired shafts thrusting against her most sensitive spots. When she finally did come down, there was no sense of relief, only ever greater sensitivity as her raw nerves protested against the overstimulation. With her lust undiminished by her last orgasm and the precise but brutal simulation of her aching cunt and ass, she knew that another orgasm was not far away. She had had multiple orgasms before, but this was different. There was no relief and no exhaustion, as if her body had already forgotten the pleasure, even if she had not. There was no limit to what the machine could do, the pleasure she could feel. She could cum a dozen, maybe a hundred times with the same intensity and still beg for more. She was being molded by pleasure, changed forever by orgasm after orgasm, and she was loving it. Maggie did not fare much better, mouth dripping nearly as much as her sodden quim. The faint outline of her convulsing abdominals could be seen through her sweat-soaked skin as her body responded to the pleasure without her consent. The look on her face showed little resistance, her body – if not her mind – already surrendered to the embrace of the machine. Melissa knew the sight should upset her, yet the drugs and the pleasure made it very hard to care. A small part of her mind recoiled in fear, terrified by her loss of control and the urges that rose unbidden to her pleasure-addled mind. It was as though she were a prisoner in not only her body but her mind, her thoughts reduced to mere whispers drowned out by cries for more and erotic fantasies. What scared her most was that she enjoyed it. Not the pleasure, that was a given. She could not possibly fight such intense stimulation, not when her nerves were aflame with drug-induced sensitivity. She was enjoying the loss of control, the comfortable, warm haze that settled over her thoughts as her concerns faded and sensation took the fore. Trying to fight it was like trying to walk through quicksand, and that was assuming that she wanted to fight it at all. She offered only token resistance as her mind slowed to a crawl and began to sink. Watching her mother writhe in ecstasy, she instinctively knew how wonderful it would feel to submit, to surrender her will to the machine. Every thrust intensified the burning pleasure that demanded ever more of her attention, her moans drowning out the ever-quieter voices in the back of her mind. As it became harder to think, it became harder to want to think, the silence feeling so much better than her brief moments of lucidity. She was losing. She was losing because she did not want to win. That moment of realization signaled the end of her resistance. She had no will but to feel more, no thoughts but increasingly depraved fantasies. She could blame her arousal on the drugs, but the overwhelming need that wracked her came from within. This was all her. The thought of being nothing more than a pair of holes to be filled, to have a life of constant sex and pleasure turned her on more than she would ever have admitted without being so powerfully aroused. She loved the drug, loved what it did to her, and loved every second of the pleasure being forced upon her. She came again and again, her orgasms synchronizing with Maggie's as one's ecstatic throes would ignite the other's. She could not pry her eyes off of her mother's glistening, heaving body, imagining what it would feel like and how it would taste. She imagined her fingers on Maggie's breasts, squeezing and groping as she buried her face between her legs, each lick forcing a sigh of pleasure and a twitch in her arched back. She imagined herself straddling her mother's face, still massaging her bounteous bust as she ground her hips against the woman's open, receptive mouth and tongue. She never had lesbian fantasies before, certainly none of her mother, but it was so easy now, so erotic since her restraints had been lifted. Her mind slipped off into a world of fantasy as her body begged for more. At the height of one of a countless number of orgasms, a new sensation broke her from her sapphic fantasies. A warm wetness began to fill her, splattering against her vaginal walls in regular bursts. She pried her eyes from Maggie's flushed, bouncing chest for long-enough to see a thin trickle of white work its way down her leg and realized at once what was happening. The doctor had said that they would need to bear children, after all. She was going to be pregnant. Pump after pump of semen flowed into her receptive cunt, dripping in excess to the floor and running in thick sheets down her thighs. It was an inhuman quantity, certain to achieve its mission with sheer volume alone. She had never felt a man ejaculate inside her, but she knew it could not compare to this, the potent aphrodisiac letting her feel every rivulet of cum as it splashed inside her with each thrust. After what felt like gallons of cum leaked out of her abused cunt, the flow finally stopped. Melissa couldn't bring herself to care, certain that the overabundance of seed had taken hold inside her. The mechanical cocks inside her ceased as well, the armature retracting and allowing a huge quantity of mixed fluids to leak from her and her mother in long strands. A moment later, the tube in her throat and screen covering her eyes retracted and the world around her returned. “I think we can call it a day with that. It a moment, I'll administer the antidote to the aphrodisiac and sedative and I'll let you get cleaned up. Fair warning, coming down is going to be hell. Think heroin withdrawal, only worse. Oh, and you get to do it every day for the next month.” Dr. Robert spoke from the same spot behind his desk, only now next to a small mound of used tissues. It took Melissa a second to process his words as the fog receded in her mind, leaving only a splitting headache in its wake. She was already miserable, but there was something that he said that stood out to her. “So we get to do this again tomorrow?” “Of course. The drug will not activate properly without it.” She turned to the side, seeing her mother face-to-face for the first time in hours. She returned a lopsided grin, telling her all that she needed to know. “Great! When do we start?”