Office Politics

By DX
Copyrighted 2/2007, 2024 all rights reserved.

 Lucille leaned back in her chair with a happy sigh as a smug grin of satisfaction spread across her face. She admired the stark, white walls of her new office as she made plans for the money from her salary raise to decorate them. With her new position, she would be able to afford a lot more things.

 She peered through her open door and watched Kimberly make her rounds. Lucille smiled devilishly, then forced the expression from her face. She scanned her desk quickly, snatched up a blank piece of paper, stuffed it into an inter-office envelope and sealed it up.

 "Kimmy," She called cooly. "might I see you in my office?"

 The blonde girl nodded, parking her mail cart by the door. "Yeah, Luce?"

 Lucille's face darkened slightly. "Kimmy, it is inappropriate to address management in such a familiar tone."

 Kimberly pursed her lips as she thought. "I'll keep that in mind in case I meet any management, Luce."

 Lucille sniffed contemptuously. "Kimmy, I realize that we've had a bit of history together, but I must impress upon you to remember that I did receive the promotion over you." Lucille interlaced her fingers, her long, lacquered fingernails of blood forming a row of spikes. "I am your superior and I will be treated as such." Her voice bit vehemently, then softened. "Don't make my first act to be reprimanding you."

 The blonde girl scoffed. "The only reason you got the promotion is because I could not make the review board in time."

 Lucille straightened, stung. "If the position meant anything to you, you would have made the effort to show up." Her voice dripped with venom.

 "My car broke down." Kimberly's voice leveled, accusingly. "The plug from my oil pan mysteriously vanished and my engine seized. By time I was able to get a cab, I was too late for the board."

 Lucille's face dropped, looking innocent. "Well, I know nothing about cars or engines, but you should have allotted yourself more time..."

 "Know nothing about cars or engines?" Kimberly rebuked quickly, hotly. "We took auto-shop together in college. You got an 'A'!"

 Lucille sat back in her chair, clearly unnerved. "I don't know what you're trying to infer, but the bottom line is that I got the job." She leaned back in her seat, her smile and confidence returning. "And if you want to get anywhere on the corporate ladder, you should show a little respect." Lucille's eyes darkened like a praying mantis considering its prey. "Perhaps you should learn a little about office politics. Making an enemy out of me isn't a good start."

 Kimberly laughed breathlessly. "Sure, Luce. Is there something you wanted?"

 Lucille had almost forgotten. She snatched up the inter-office mail and held it out. "Take this to Diane in accounting right away." She ordered, her smugness returning.

 "Sure thing, Luce." Kimberly took the envelope. "Enjoy it while you can."

 Lucille flinched as her smug expression drained. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 "Oh, I'm sure you've heard that Steve in acquisitions is retiring this month." Kimberly said, offhandedly.

 "Of course I heard about that," She hadn't. "but isn't that an executive position?"

 Kimberly nodded, looking about the tiny office. "And his office has a window." Kimberly smiled at her boss. "With a view."

 Lucille's eyes focused threateningly. "What makes you think you'll get that position?"

 Kimberly frowned slightly, pouting as she thought. "For starters, I am qualified for the job. Secondly, Dan is doing the interview personally." Kimberly gave herself a little hug, making her breasts bulge. "And you know he can't resist a little cleavage."

 Lucille scowled as he face drained of pallor. "Well, I think it will take a little more than a C cup to make him give you the job."

 "Actually, they're a D, and I've got that covered."

 Lucille leaned forward, her brow arching suspiciously. "What, are you getting a boob job?"

 The blonde smiled scandalously. "A little office politic campaigning."

 "Really?" Lucille sat up. "And how can you afford plastic surgery on your meager salary?"

 Kimberly's face lit up as she leaned in close, her voice lowered. "You know Michelle up in personnel?"

 Lucille sensed hot gossip and was drawn in like a shark to blood. Everyone knew Michelle. She was a tall goddess in killer pumps whose fashion model looks could enslave men with a glance. She could be on the runway as a super model save that her massive breasts and juicy curves would not fit in the anorexic world of modeling. Lucille had watched her like every woman, with loathe and envy. "Michelle had plastic surgery?" She whispered.

 Kimberly snorted a laugh. "She used to be a man!"

 "No way!"

 "Yes way. Her doctor is this guy up from Brazil. He's doing low budget procedures because he hasn't gotten his license in this country yet." Kimberly smiled, coyly. "So, he's going to add a cup to my chest and smooth out some lines. He says he can take five to seven years off my face."

 "Take seven years off your face and you'll look like you're fourteen." Lucille mumbled sardonically.

 "We're talking Dan here. Fourteen's a little old for him." Kimberly rose and turned, showing her profile. "A little lypo here," She laid her hand on her already flat tummy. "and a little added back here for some nice curve," She patted her rump. "and Dan will be a blithering idiot." Kimberly regarded Lucille in the suddenly silence. "You know, you could stand to have a little work done and smooth out those Crow's Feet."

 Lucille's hand reflexively shot up to the corner of her eye, almost trying to hide. She managed a weak smile. "I prefer to earn my promotions on merit."

 Kimberly breathed a silent, mocking laugh. "That would be a change in tactics for you." She looked around the stark, plain office walls. "That'll get you right to the top, I’m sure.” She held up the envelope Lucille gave her to deliver. "Since I'm leaving early today, I'll be sure to get this to accounting before I leave. My procedure is tomorrow morning at six."

 "All that in one day?"

 Kimberly shrugged. "It's not all that. Besides, the man is good."

 "A miracle worker."

 "Ha, ha." Kimberly said, dryly. "I'll be on three weeks vacation time to recover, and then my interview with Dan will be right after that." She smiled brightly. "See you around, Luce."

 Lucille sneered more than smiled and gave a half wave as Kimberly left. Lucille picked up the phone to look busy, pretending Kimberly’s taunt fell on deaf ears. Once the blonde was out of sight, Lucille hung up the phone, her eyes dark and brooding. A small smile crept onto her lips as she picked up the phone again.

 "Hello, Michelle? This is Lucille! Lucille from downstairs. Yes, that Lucille. You know I just recalled that I owe you a lunch. Yes, I'm sure. What say I even the score. I can meet you downstairs at Noon. Yes, yes, I owe you a lunch, I'm very sure. We should get to know each other. Besides, why turn down a free lunch?"

 Dawn had yet to cast its gentle light on the darkened street. The tall shadowy buildings rose like fortress walls, their forlorn, cracked and broken windows gazing silently down to the vacant lot below.

 Lucille shuddered as she parked her car beneath the only working light in the parking lot. As she stepped from the security of her car, she glanced around nervously. Her car, old and well used looked pristine compared to the other cars in the lot. She locked it, then checked that it was locked, then made her way quickly across the lot to the dark door. She had pumped Michelle for information to the point of using subtle threats of exposing her past as a man. Michelle reluctantly gave Lucille directions to The Miracle Worker.

 "Talk about your back door surgeries." Lucille mumbled as she reached for the bell. She hesitated, wondering if what she was doing was worth it. She set her lips and pressed the greasy button. Earlier that morning, Lucille snuck over to Kimberly's apartment and put a nick in the brake lines of her car. With the steep hills in that neighborhood, Kimmy was going to need a little more than plastic surgery. 

 Lucille sighed sharply. She was in deep now.

 She flinched and yelped as the door buzzed angrily at her. Trying to slow her quickly beating heart, she pushed open the door and stepped into the darkness beyond. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom. She stepped forward and found the elevator. As the door slid open, the stench of urine assaulted her. The elevator rattled like a haunted house as it climbed up, then opened to a shadowy hall.

 Fear clutched her heart as she walked down the dimly lit hall to the double doors at the end. There was no sign, no indication that this rat infested building was anything of a clinic. Lucille again hesitated at the door as the idea of sterile conditions came to mind.

 "A healthy dose of penicillin can handle any infection." She whispered as she reached for the dented and pitted door knob.

 The door swung open easily and Lucille blinked, blinded by the bright light. When she could see, she took in the warm, fresh painted walls and breathed in the clean air scented with antiseptic.

 Behind the glass desk, typing on her laptop, the receptionist peered up. "Senorita Kimberly?"

 Lucille was stunned silent by the woman's youth and beauty. Her friendly, but exotic dark eyes, sculpted full lips and delicate chin were captivating. She could never be a model. She was too pretty to look at. No one would pay any attention to any product she was selling.

 "May I help you?" The woman asked again.

 Lucille was jolted from her revery. "Ah, si, yes, I am Kimberly." Michelle had told her that everything was done through phone calls and e-mails. Lucille gambled that the doctor would have no idea what Kimberly looked like so posing would be easy.

 The receptionist held out a clip board. "Please fill these out and sign here. Your payment has already been processed."

 Lucille grinned as she took a seat and filled out the form using Kimberly's name, but used her own medical history and allergies. With that done, Lucille was escorted to another room, not as pretty as the reception area, where a nurse in full surgical scrubs and mask greeted her and gave her a gown to put on. Lucille tried to catch a glimpse of the woman. She was blonde with lovely blue eyes, but her mask covered everything else.

 The nurse took Lucille's clothes away as the doctor came in. He chittered quickly in Spanish and Lucille assumed he wanted her naked. When she opened her gown, the doctor took a marker and drew on her body where he was going to cut. He then sketched lines on her face. Lucille realized that Kimberly was having more than just a minor procedure done.

 As the doctor finished, the blonde nurse wheeled in a gurney and motioned for Lucille to lay down. The doctor then swabbed Lucille's arm and gave her a shot. He then put an intravenous shunt into her arm. The nurse wheeled Lucille into the operating theater.

 Large lights hovered over head, blinding Lucille. Trays and tables covered in green cloth surrounded her. Hoses and tubes sprang from everywhere. Lucille was wheeled into the center of it all.

 The nurse said something in Spanish, and Lucille, nervousness building, nodded dumbly. The nurse smiled beneath her mask. "No Espanol?"

 "Uh, I took it in highschool a few years ago." Actually, she had cheated off of Kimberly.

 The nurse nodded, understanding. "The shot the doctor gave you is a sedative. It will make you very sleepy. This procedure requires full anesthesia."

 Lucille did feel sleepy and her limbs grew heavy. She watched submissively as the nurse ran straps across her wrists. As she strapped her feet down, the nurse explained, "Can't risk you sleep walking." The nurse stood back and glanced through the open door. "The doctor is scrubbing up and the anesthesiologist will be here in a minute." The nurse looked down at Lucille, patting her hand reassuringly. "Just relax, Kimberly, the doctor is very experienced in this type of surgery. Although you have chosen a very extensive and extreme procedure, the doctor is confident you will be pleased with the results."

 The words, extreme and extensive pushed a spike in Lucille's mind. What did Kimberly sign up for?

 The nurse moved a tray over. "These breast implants are imported. This country will not allow any this big to be used." Lucille blinked, fighting the affects of the sedative as she looked at two grey, lucid plastic forms the size and shape of beach balls. Lucille tried to speak but with the sedative in her system, she could only moan.

 The nurse patted her arm gently. "Oh, don't worry. These are not your implants." Lucille breathed a sigh of relief. "These are only to stretch the skin." The nurse went on, pulling back another cloth revealing two massive bags of silicone, sparkling in the light. "These will be your permanent implants, the finest and highest quality I might add. It should give you the ninety inch bust line that you requested."

 Lucille's eyes grew wide as plates. Ninety inches!

 "Now, I know you were thinking bigger," The nurse went on, "But I think that after we remove some of your ribs," The nurse pointed to Lucille's side where the doctor had marked. "and several yards of your small intestine and most of your stomach and large intestine, and bring your waist size down to a fourteen, your breasts will look sensational."

 Lucille tried to struggle, but the sedative was at full effect. Kimberly had signed up to be a freak!

 The nurse held up a tray with a silicone doughnut. "These will be your lip implants. I can't imagine how you'll be able to talk after this, but it is what you ordered.”  She shrugged.  “Your teeth will be removed, and your jaw pinned open.”  She looked at markings on Lucille.  “And your vagina?  Crazy!  Utterly gone.  You will be incapable of experiencing pleasure ever again.”

 "Stop," Lucille struggled to talk, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm not Kimberly." Every word was a struggle but she forced back the effects of the drug. "It's a mistake."

 Lucille looked up as another man, swabbed in surgical scrubs came in.

 "Stop," She moaned. "Please, don't do this."

 "Que?" He asked and the nurse answered him in Spanish. The man nodded and gave Lucille a thumbs up. "All okay!" He said as he picked up the black rubber anesthesia mask and strapped it to Lucille's face.

 "Just breathe normally." The nurse instructed.

 Lucille tried to protest as the world swirled into darkness. "No, wait," Her voice was muffled by the mask.

 The nurse leaned in close and whispered into Lucille's ear. "Perhaps you should not have cheated off me during Spanish class."

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The Queen’s Helmet

By DX

Art by Doktork

Copyrighted 9/2024, all rights reserved.

The towering stained glass windows of the throne room depicted a heroic man clad in shabby, broken armor battling a fierce dragon.  As the beast’s claws raked the hero’s breast plate leaving long bloody scars, the hero plunged his sword, dulled and chipped, into the beast’s heart.

Along the walls, other windows depicted the hero’s rise to accept the crown as king.  Then, by his hand, aquifers and dams and canals were built and the farms were irrigated and protected from flood and drought.  Other windows showed farmers and bountiful harvests, schools and cathedrals being built, and a kingdom flourishing.

In the hall, drenched in the multi-colored light from the windows, the administrators, priests, and nobles sat in tall backed chairs.  They spoke casually in hushed tones.  Pages scurried about to light lanterns as the light from the stained glass windows slowly faded to sun set.  Everyone looked up expectedly as Lord Dorland came from the king’s chambers.

“All hail, King Garland!”  Someone shouted.

“All hail, King Garland…”  Echoed throughout the hall.

Dorland nodded, and waved for quiet.  “The king yet lives.”  

“All hail, King Garland.”  The hall murmured.

Dorland nodded, then turned and shuffled back towards the king’s chamber.  As he neared the door, a skeletal hand plucked at his arm.  “How much longer, Lord Dorland?”

Dorland shrugged off the clutching hand.  “Patience, Lord Baylen.”  He whispered.

“We wish the king eternal life,”  Baylen pressed.  “not eternal suffering.”  Baylen’s face darkened.  “Nor is our patience eternal.”

Dorland pulled away and pushed through the door of the king’s chamber.

The aged King, emaciated, grey and slacken, lay still on his bed.  Earlier he had pulled open his nightshirt and exposed the horrible, never healing scars the dragon had left him all those decades ago.  Princess Galen pulled her veil off and covered his scars to keep the flies at bay.

In the King’s right hand was his crown.  On his left was Princess Galen.

Princess Galen was kneeling at his bed side.  Her hand intwined with his.

King Garland’s eyes flashed open.  “Dorland?”

“I’m here, your Majesty.”  Dorland stepped forward, but one of the doctors interceded.

“You must rest, your Majesty.”

The King shook his head almost imperceptibly.  “Dorland, your quill, your parchment.”  The King took a few moments to catch his breath from his exertion.  “Mark the time and date.”  He began, straining to be heard.  “I, King Garland, Dragonslayer, bequeath my crown…”  He paused, then let out a terrible cough as his face contorted with pain.

Quickly, Princess Galen rose up and with a damp towel, wiped the blood from the King’s lips.

He nodded his thanks to her.  The turned his head toward Dorland.  “I give my crown, my kingdom, to Princess Galen.  He shifted the crown, and dragged it towards her.  “Take it, Galen.”  He looked over to her, and despite his tremendous pain, smiled proudly.  “Queen Galen.”

Dorland’s quill scratched feverishly.  

“Your Majesty, please!”  The doctor pressed.  “You must rest.”

The King only looked to his daughter.  “Beware your sister’s treachery.  Even though I’ve sent her off to marry Prince Verius, given the slightest inkling, she will ruin you.”  He coughed again.  “Remember, love your people.  Guide them, nurture them.  Build them roads and schools and they will take care of the rest.”  He paused to catch his breath.  “Show kindness and mercy when you can, but remember justice is a hammer.  Strike true!  Keep Duke Wilhelm close.  Trust no one else.”  He smiled weakly.  “And let me be the first to say to you, your majesty, Queen Galen.”

With a gentle smile on his face, King Garland, Dragonslayer, passed to the next world on a river of his beloved daughter’s tears.

“The King is dead.”  The doctor murmured.  “Long live the Queen.”

Dorland nodded.  “Long live the Queen.”  He shuffled to the door.  “I’ll inform the court.”  He, with the doctors close behind, slipped through the door and closed it behind him.

And Queen Galen openly wept.

Moments later there was a knock on the door, and Dorland peered in.  “Your highness, you’re needed in court.”

Whether or not she took offense to his wrong use of title, she didn’t show it.  She lay the King’s crown on his chest, then placed his hands upon it.  She then washed her face.

Bareheaded, she stood regally, and walked into court.

The lords and nobles were all on one knee, their heads bowed.  Queen Galen stepped to the center dais, and raised her hands.  “Rise gentlemen, and be seated.”

No one moved.

Curious, Queen Galen looked around and noticed a cold shadow on the floor.  She turned towards the throne.

Princess Cassandra sat curled up on the throne, her legs over the arm rest.  “Sister.”  She cooed.

Her eyes filled with daggers, Queen Galen nodded curiously to her sister.  “What of your marriage to Prince Verius?”

Cassandra scoffed.  “Why would I marry a seventh prince when I can have a kingdom?”

Queen Galen drew a sharp breath.  “Guards, remove Princess Cassandra from the court.”

No one moved.

Cassandra turned and slumped on the throne.  “There’s been a change, sister.”

From the back of the hall, a guard ran in.  “Your Majesty!  Duke Wilhelm has been arrested!”

Cassandra clapped her hands.  “Call the headsman!  Bring his block and axe and put it right there!”  She pointed to the middle of the room.  “I want Wilhelm on his knees.  As the crown is placed on my head, I want the axe to fall on his neck!”  She squealed in delight.

“How dare you!”  Queen Galen roared.

Lord Baylen stepped forward and slapped Galen, then cried in pain, clutching his hand.  “Bow down to your Queen!”  He shouted, then turned and held out his hand to the doctor.  “I think I broke it.”  He whimpered.

Queen Galen scanned the men kneeling before the throne.  “His body still warm and you betray him?”

“We’re just following his last command.”  Cassandra answered, then clicked her fingers.  “Dorland?  Read our good King’s last words.”

As Dorland held up his parchment, his squire held up a candle to shed light.  “Hear the final words of King…”

“Speed this up!”  Cassandra said, tiredly.

Dorland cleared his throat.  “Ah, yes.”  He looked to his document, reading quickly.  “Herby bequeath my crown to Princess Cassandra…”

“Liar!”  Queen Galen screamed.

“Quiet!”  Cassandra roared, then looked to Dorland.  “Read the good part.”

Dorland looked sheepishly, and mumbled.  “Queen, I mean, Princess Galen is to be sent to the brothels, which are to be reopened in according to the old customs.  Queen… uh, Princess Galen will serve her kingdom as a cum swallowing slut for the rest of her days.  Her arms shall be removed, her sex sewn shut, and her identity locked away in the Queen’s Helmet!”

Cassandra clapped her hands and two pages wheeled out a cart.  On the cart was a helmet, polished to a mirror shine.  The helmet was perfectly sculpted to fit the wearer skin tight, and would cover from the crown of the skull and drape over the shoulders.  It was smooth and featureless, save two lucite shielded eye ports and a gaping hole for a mouth.

Cassandra fanned her hands at it to show it off.  “Crotainum alloy, virtually indestructible.  The locks are on the inside”  She pointed.  “So once it is on, it is on for life.”  She giggled.  “And would you look at that?  It’s just your size!”  She chirped in delight as she pointed to a small valve at the throat.  “You’ll breathe through here, so you’ll be able to service the nobles without interruption, and of course, make you silent.”  She snorked a laugh as she pointed to the eye shields.  “You’ll be able to see somewhat, but on the outside, it fits seamlessly, and looks opaque.  So no one will be able to tell you from one service slut to another, but you will know who’s cock you are sucking.”

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Art used with permission from Doktork:

A Sense of Taste

Story by DX
Art by Hæritic

Copyrighted, 5/2024, all Rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without author’s permission.

 The most remarkable thing about Dr. Marcus, was how unremarkable she was.

 As we drove down the winding, topiary lined drive, we were given views of wagons pulled by ponygirls dressed in shiny leather tack.  In the lobby was a giant aquarium filled with mermaids.  As we sat in the study waiting for our meeting with the doctor to begin a woman with massive breasts moved by and milked herself for our coffees.

 Dr. Marcus and her team were the masters of body modification.  They didn’t nip tuck, but performed full body reconstructions to transform a subject to match their wildest fantasy.  Nothing was beyond the doctor.  Amputations?  Easy.  Breast inflation?  Go big or go home.  A vagina where a mouth should be?  You bet, but why stop at just one vagina?  

 It was all daily routine for her.

 She was a handsome woman, her face gently aged.  She had soft blue, mirthful eyes that peeled away what ever they looked at.  While her assistant pranced about on the tips of her toes with longer than the law allowed legs and a waist so narrow I could encircle with both hands, made to appear even smaller by her zeppelin sized tits which she carried as easily as if they were filled with helium, the doctor herself was slim, with the curves of a boy and the poise of a water buffalo.

 “Dr. Webb, Dr. Lee, Dr. North, thank you for coming on such short notice.”  She said, greeting us and shaking our hands.  “I realize my correspondence was vague, and to make matters worse we have a very limited availability to study this phenomena.  The subject in question is on loan, for lack of a better term.  If you will follow me down the hall, I think a demonstration of the phenomena will be more effective as to what’s going on.”

 “Can you give us any indication as to what this phenomena is?”  I asked, following her down the hall.

 She opened a door and ushered us into a room.  “Honestly Dr. Lee, I can’t explain it, but somehow, the blind can see.”

 We stepped into a dimly lit observation room.  It was sterile, save one wall with an expansive window, obviously a two-way mirror, which viewed into a second room.  The room was brightly lit.  The room we viewed was lavishly decorated in a victorian style.  The walls were decorated in beautiful paintings, and the windows were adorned with luxurious drapes with braided pull ropes and tassels.  A couch, with plush cushions, was in the center of the room.  A coffee table made of hand carved ebony was in front of the couch.  There was a great, high backed chair with an ottoman before it to the left of the couch.  To the right of the couch was a floor lamp with glowing torchere.  In the back left corner was a small table with a large porcelain vase from some Chinese dynasty.  

 Our subject of inquiry, and strikingly out of place for the rest of the decor, was in the back right corner.

 The enormity of her breasts was the first thing I focused on.  Her nipples were pierced with half inch thick rings that appeared welded on.  Anything smaller would have looked odd on her titanic breasts.  I imagined that if she tried to reach out and wrap her arms around her breasts, she couldn’t manage to clasp her hands together.  

 It was then I realized she didn’t have arms.  They had been neatly removed at the shoulder.  

 As my mind spiraled at the idea, I continued my survey.  The woman’s head was sealed in a tight leather helmet.  The helmet had no features I could see, save a space for her mouth.  Her lips, thick, puffy, and round like a doughnut, protruded her mask.  Every few seconds, her tongue lashed out and licked her fat lips.

 The mask extended down her neck, highlighting its swan like length.  A thick leather collar was wrapped snuggly about her neck.  A tiny padlock hung from the collar and secured it in place.

 Beneath her mammoth breasts was a leather corset which accentuated her narrow waist and callipygous hips.  She had muscular legs, that ended in leather ballet shoes which kept her feet en-point.

 Apart from her helmet, corset and boots, she was naked.

 She stood unmoving, and waiting, only occasionally licking her lips.

 “Dr. Marcus,”  I began, but she silenced me with a hand.

 “Please, Dr. Lee.  In good time.”  She said with an assuring smile.  “I would like you all to enter the room.  There’s a bit of tape on the floor where I would like you to stand.”  She looked at me.  “Dr. Lee, I would like you to go in first, for reasons which will be made obvious in a moment.”  She then looked to my contemporaries .  “Dr. Webb and Dr. North, organize yourselves as you will.”  She gestured at the room.  “Just walk in, stand on the tape, and wait.  Please do not talk.”

 We glanced at each other.  Shrugging, we formed a little line at the door.  I then entered the room followed by Dr. North, with Dr. Webb as the tail.  We found our clearly marked spots easily.

 We stood there.

 I counted ten-seconds before the woman in the corner moved.  She turned her head towards us, then walked in tiny balanced steps to our right.  The space was available, but with her giant breasts, it became quite narrow.  She paused, then retraced her steps and went to the left.  She then adroitly turned and avoided the great chair and ottoman, and slotted past the coffee table.

 She approached me.  I almost took a step back to avoid colliding with her breasts, but at the last second she turned sharply and stepped over to Dr. North.  There she stopped and turned to face him.

 It was difficult to ascertain her thoughts through her featureless leather helmet, but as she stood in front of Dr. North, occasionally licking her lips, she began to make her intentions clear.

 She kissed her lips at him.

 She then began a slow, rhythmic dance, shifting her shoulders and hips, jiggling her tits.

 Dr. North was fit to be tied and looked to me for direction.  I was intrigued.  Observing the helmet up close, I could see there was no way she could see, yet she navigated the room easily.  I concluded she had memorized the room.  Yet, she walked passed me, the only woman in our little group, and settled on the first male she encountered.  Dr. Marcus insisted I be the first in the room, so again it was all memorization.

 But that was too simple.

 I nodded to Dr. North.  ‘Go on.’

 He waved his hands slightly, unsure.

 I mouthed, ‘Anything.’

 He did the logical thing.  They were right there in front of him.  He reached out and caressed the sides of her giant breasts.  

 Her reaction was instant and obvious as she lit up like a firework.  She stepped closer to him, nodding as far as her collar would allow, and kissed up at him.  He reached up with his hand and she leaned forward and wrapped her heavy lips around his finger and began to suck.

 Slowly, deliberately, her tongue lashed out and drew him into her steaming mouth.

 Trying to remain professional, Dr. North looked to me for guidance, but I didn’t interfere.  Dr. Marcus brought us here for a reason.  There was a phenomena to be observed and I wasn’t sure what it was.  I glanced at the room.  Comfy furniture and a relaxed environment, I had to see this through.

 I pointed to the couch.  ‘Go’.

 He looked at me uncertainly, but the woman was already half turned to the couch and almost trying to drag him there, what she wanted was obvious.

 Slowly, like a condemned prisoner, Dr. North allowed himself to be lured to the couch.  There, he sat, and she beside him.  She leaned over and with her lips and tongue tried to undo his pants.  After a frustrating minute, Dr. North reached down and undid his pants.

 She quickly brought her mouth around his penis and drew it in.

 From our position, there wasn’t much to see, just her head bobbing slightly, and Dr. North’s walls of professionalism crumbling into rapture.

 I nodded to Dr. Webb, and we headed out of the room to give them a little privacy.

 We watched from the observation window.

 “How much can she see through that helmet?”  I asked quickly.

 Dr. Marcus shook her head.  “The helmet is irrelevant.”  She said like a professor to a wayward student.  “At her request, her eyes were donated.  They’re gone, replaced by silicone implants to maintain structure in her eye sockets.  A young woman in the Dominican Republic can now see.”

 I gaped, and glanced to the window and watched Dr. North reclined with his eyes closed.  “She’s memorized the room.”  I said, stating the obvious.

 “She’s never been in that room before.  She was let in the room moments before you came in.”  Dr. Marcus countered.

 I blinked, astounded.  “Pheromones…”  I randomly stated, glancing at Dr. Webb for support.  He was preoccupied watching the woman nodding her head ever so slightly in Dr. North’s lap.

 Dr. Marcus watched them through the window with a medical detachment.  “There are two holes where her nostrils are.  Two tubes run down past her sinuses, one to her lungs for breathing, the other down to her stomach for her hydration and nutrition.  Her sinuses are filled with an expanding resin.  She has no olfactory senses.”

 “What?”  I whispered.

 Dr. Marcus nodded.  “The nerves to her eardrums have been severed.  She can’t hear.”

 “Why did you forbid us to talk?”  I countered.

 She gave a half shrug.  “Eliminating variables.”

 I watched Dr. North for a moment as I thought.  I checked my watch.

 “She’ll make it last.”  Dr. Marcus answered my unasked question.  “Stimulation will promote ejaculate production.  As you know, men store very little ejaculate in their epididymus.  Most is produced during the stimulation process.  She wants a big load, so she is going to take her time.” 

 I checked my watch again, then glanced at the doctor.  “Sight, hearing and smell are gone… touch?”

 The doctor nodded.  “What you see as skin, is actually Nanotex, a nanite produced quasi-latex fabric that is permanently bonded to her skin.  The leather you see is just textured Nanotex to look like leather.  She can feel pressure, but has zero tactile recognition.”

 I watched her working on Dr. North for a few minutes, wondering if he was going to survive the experience.  “She navigates through her sense of taste?”

 Dr. Marcus nodded.  “That’s the guess.”

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