On the Assembly Line

Here's a story told in the first person from the female's point of view. - Julien

I'm lying on a conveyor belt. I'm on my back, and I'm completely naked. I can't move any part of my body - all I can do is stare at the ceiling. The conveyor belt is taking me somewhere. Sometimes I pass under a reflective surface and catch a glimpse of myself, staring into space with no expression, totally exposed.

I should be completely terrified - I've been kidnapped and stripped, and something horrible is going to happen to me. But they've given me some drug - I think there's an IV drip in my arm - and I feel clear-headed and almost calm.

The conveyor belt has stopped. I'm in some kind of laboratory, I think.

Two women are next to me. One is leaning over me, looking at me and smiling sweetly. She's young, with light brown hair in a ponytail. The other seems older and more serious, but I can't see her so well. She picked up a clipboard that was resting on my stomach, and she's looking at it.

"What's her name?" says the younger woman.

"Zoe Smith, 18, high school senior," says the older one.

"She's totally adorable," says the young one. "Look at those freckles."

The old one is business-like. "Get her nippled first, and then get her tits started. That's going to take the longest. Do everything else after the tits."

They're going to do things to my body. Why? I'm scared, but the fear feels far away, not so bad.

"Okay," says the young one. I hear the old one walk away.

"Zoe, my name is Claire," the girl says. "My job is to make you even more beautiful and adorable than you are now, if that's possible." She is preparing a tray of medical equipment. "I am so so so sorry I have to take off this beautiful red hair," she says, taking a handful of my pussy hair. 

She's holding my pussy hair in her hand! It's weird that I'm not freaking out. I don't even undress in front of the other girls in gym class. 

"But men don't like hair down there anymore. They want girls to be shaved."

They're preparing me for men. Are they white slavers?

I'm trying to focus on this. They're turning me into a prostitute. But my mind keeps wandering to whatever new thing occurs. The drug I'm on must be stronger than it feels.

Claire lets go of my pussy and is pinching one of my nipples. But not for fun - she's starting to work on me. I think she's trying to make my nipple erect.

It's weird: I'm getting a little turned on. Not in an extreme way - just the normal amount from having my nipples played with. Being as terrified as I am, sex should be the last thing on my mind. It must be the drug.

She's putting some device over my nipple and using a hand pump. "This will hurt just a little bit, sweetie," she says. It hurts like hell... but the pain is like the fear: I'm not really feeling it. Then there's a pulling feeling and a popping sound as she yanks the thing off me - and then the sting of a needle right in my nipple. She keeps sticking me, three or four times.

"There - beautiful!" she says. Then she moves over and does exactly the same thing to my other nipple. When she's finished, she leans over me and fluffs up both my nipples with her thumb and fingers. I can actually see both of my nipples, sticking up into my field of vision. What did she do to them? They're huge.

It's horrible, but I'm getting so turned on that I can't think straight.... And this girl can tell. Oh, God, she's rubbing her hand on my clit....

"You probably think I'm some kind of lesbian," she says. "And I'm totally not. It's just that you're so adorable that I can't resist you." 

Ohhh... she stopped touching me. This is terrible. She can do whatever she wants with me, and I can't move a muscle. And she's turning me on and off like a light switch. Normally I'm not sensitive like that at all.

Now she's hooking something up to my boobs. Jesus, what a weird feeling - I think she inserted something right down the center of my nipple.

"While we're doing that...." she says. There's some kind of bottle suspended over my head, and tubes running down from it right into my boobs. Are they going to make my chest bigger? I don't see anything happening - but I have the weirdest feeling in each boob.

"Time to do your lips," Claire says. I can't see her at all, but she's down between my legs - I feel her pulling at me down there. What is she doing?

"Bur first, we have to get this over with," she says. She's turned on an electric clipper, and she's shaving me. Uhhh... the vibrations....

And now warm shaving cream. This is so weird - I can't keep focused on the fact that I've been kidnapped and drugged by white slavers. I keep thinking I'm at a spa or something.

I think she's done shaving me, but she's still down there, laying out some instruments. I wish I could look down - but even my eyes won't move. Good Lord, are my boobs getting bigger? Were my nipples that high in my field of vision before? I can't tell for sure.

"This is actually the most important part," she says. "Really, this is the only part men care about. We have to make you look like a little pink flower in bloom."

I feel needles sometimes, and something wet, like a brush. At first I thought she was piercing me, but I think she's just... arranging me. My pussy is feeling thick and heavy, almost stiff.

"You are such a flirt!" she says. "If you get any wetter you're going to squirt on me."

Oh, God, I'm going to come. I need to think about something else. Oh, God... I'm coming I'm coming I'm coming....

"There we go. You look incredibly sexy," Claire says. I'm not sure I'm catching everything she's saying - I feel as if I'm on another planet.

I actually came for this woman. Is this part of their plan, for me to turn on whenever someone touches me, practically? Or is that just a side effect of the drug?

"You have the most perfect little feet and toes I've ever seen," she says. She's playing with my toes, and even that is making me hot.... "I bet we aren't going to have to do anything to them." She picks up the clipboard. "Yep, no ticket has been opened for your feet."

This is weird. If they're going to make me a prostitute, why would they need to give me perfect feet? Something strange is happening. It's almost as if I'm going to be an exhibit or something.

Now the girl is right in my face, very serious, not talking. She puts a needle right in my lip, and injects me slowly. This part is taking forever - despite the pain, I keep zoning out as she injects me from all sides.

Finally she stands back, takes a deep breath, and looks me over, touching my lips as if she wants to see how they move. "Excellent," she says. "I think your mouth was lovely before, personally. But men expect a look like this. And you definitely look hot, no question about it."

She takes my face in both her hands and kisses me on the cheeks. "I saved the worst for last. I know there's nothing I can say to make you feel okay about this - but you'll look wonderful again by the time we're all finished."

She took the clippers and is shaving off all the hair on my head....

And she's finishing the job with lather and a razor. I feel numb. Why would they want to do such a thing to me? What are they making me into?

Claire is doing her paperwork, and puts the completed clipboard on my stomach. I realize suddenly that my breasts have become huge, completely blocking my view of my bottom half! They're still hooked up to the bottle - how big are they going to make me?

Claire leans over me and caresses my cheek. "Goodbye, Zoe," she says. "I like to think that it won't be so bad for you girls, that you won't mind so much. Good luck!"

She flips a switch, and the conveyor belt starts moving again. My boobs bounce around like crazy - the bottle must be traveling with me, because I'm still connected to it.

It's hard for me to keep track of time, but I feel as if I've been moving for a while when the belt finally stops in a place that looks like a shower room. Then I sit unattended for a while, trying to gather my thoughts.

A woman finally approaches me and takes the clipboard off my stomach. I can't see her so well, but she looks middle-aged, and wears a plastic cap over her hair.

The first thing she does is detach me from the tubes and take the bottle away. My God, my chest is gigantic. Even lying flat on my back, I can't see anything below me but my boobs - and my nipples, which must be an inch long.

It's as if all this is happening to someone else - I can't seem to get it through my head that this human sex doll they're creating is me. If I ever get free, can these changes to my body be undone?

The new woman is slapping and pushing my new chest around, but not for fun: she's just checking my boob job. Then she makes a mark on the clipboard.

Suddenly she's sticking rubber tubing in my nostrils. It's a weird feeling, but not really uncomfortable. Then she tapes my eyelids closed. She says, "Breathe through the tubes," then closes my mouth with tape as well.

The conveyor belt is moving again. I feel myself going down a slight incline, and then my feet touch a thick, sticky liquid. In a second I'm completely submerged. I can't see or hear anything, but I can breathe through the tubes.

When the conveyor belt takes me out of the pool of liquid, I can feel it running off of my body in rivulets. The belt stops, and immediately hands grab me, remove the tape and tubes, and force my eyes open. It's the same woman, and she instantly starts working on me with an electric tool that feels like a buffer with a soft pad - she's going over my whole body. To get at my backside, she tilts me sideways in both directions, dropping me roughly when she's done. I'm realizing for the first time that my body is a little bit rigid: my arms and legs move back and forth when she lifts me, but only a little.

I feel like a big doll in this woman's hands, and the buffer, or whatever, is getting me hot again.... But she stops suddenly and walks away. I hear her flip a switch, and suddenly I feel as if I'm under a sun lamp. She leaves me there to bake.

I have no idea what just happened, but I'm starting to feel as if I've been shrinkwrapped, with pressure on every square inch of my skin. The woman comes over, flips me on my stomach, and leaves me again in the heat. I feel as if I'm on a ramp - these boobs are propping me way up in the air.

I lie staring at the conveyor belt until the woman returns, flips me over again, and inspects every inch of me, touching me all over. When she finds a spot she doesn't like, she hits me with the buffer again - only this time it feels rough, like sandpaper. It doesn't hurt, though.

Then she puts on a pair of goggles, and pulls out another tool that looks a bit like a hand scanner. She's all business, moving quickly as if she's on a tight schedule. The whole time she's treated me as if I were a piece of meat instead of a live girl. Claire talked to me, at least.

She holds the scanner thing to my right elbow. It burns. I wonder if it's going to injure me, even though I have no trouble bearing the heat.

She drops the heater and quickly twists my arm so that it makes a right angle at the elbow. Then she wraps an ice pack around the joint, and does the same thing to the other arm.

So I really am going to be a sex doll. Why else would they make me immobile, and put my arms in this position? I'm trying to think about this, to think about what it means for me. But I can't hold onto the thoughts.

The woman fills out the clipboard, throws it on my stomach, and starts the conveyor belt, and I'm traveling again. In my peripheral vision, I can see my arms frozen in a ridiculous embracing position, and an equally silly set of boobs and nipples bouncing around between them. It's hard to remember that they're part of me now, even though I can feel their weight pulling against my chest.

When the belt stops again, I'm in a smaller, cozier room, almost like a beauty parlor. A new woman takes the clipboard off my stomach, leans over me, and looks at me. She's middle-aged, in a lab coat, with a blonde bouffant hairdo and cat's-eye glasses. She smiles a little as she looks at me, but doesn't say anything.

She sits down by my feet, where I can't see her. Then I feel her painting my toenails. The paint has a strong chemical smell, but it doesn't smell like nail polish.

When she's done, I feel heat on my toes - she's drying me. Then she moves up and starts working on my pussy, leaning over my leg. It's turning me on a bit, but before I have a chance to embarrass myself, my pussy is getting blasted with hot air.

She paints my fingernails fire-engine red, then points a hairdryer at them. After that she starts on my lips, using exactly the same paint and brush that she used to polish my nails. I can see her hovering inches from my face, brushing my lips carefully - I feel as if I'm at the dentist.

Now she's making up my face. But she's not doing makeup the normal way: she's putting paint on me and then texturing it, almost as if I were a painting. She's using her gloved fingers on me a lot, and a little airbrush, and a sponge. When she finishes a spot, she wets it down with some liquid that is making me a little lightheaded.

Finally she uses the brush again to line my eyes. I look awful in makeup - I hate to think about what effect she's going for. The hairdryer on my face is unpleasant, but it's over quickly.

She's behind me now where I can't see her, and she's painting my head with something sticky. I had almost forgotten that they shaved me bald.... I guess I'll forget again as long as they're drugging me.

She's fitting something onto my head - a wig, probably. I feel it squish into the paste that she covered my scalp with. She adjusts it for a while - I can see bangs up above my eyes. They look about the same color as my real hair. Then she hits me with the hairdryer again.

She seems to be finished - she's looking me over from head to toe. She has a cruel little smile on her face. I feel as if she knows I'm watching and listening, but doesn't care to acknowledge me.

She walks away and comes back, still with the weird little smile, and holds a big mirror up in front of my face. What am I looking at?

I must have blacked out for a while. But she's still holding the mirror up, so it couldn't have been for too long. I don't feel as if I'm in shock, but maybe I am.

What I'm looking at isn't me. It's a sex doll. Everything about it looks totally inanimate.

I keep blacking out. Is is the drug?

I'm looking again, and now I can see that it's really me in the mirror. The huge boobs and pointy nipples aren't like me, and neither are the lips: they made them big and round and O-shaped, and that changes my face a lot. But all my other facial features are right there, under the makeup, which is glossy and way too dramatic. The hairdo isn't me - it's a Bettie Page cut with a flip - but the color is almost mine, just a little darker and brassier. The weirdest thing is my skin. It's about the same tone as my real skin, but it's so perfectly smooth that it's unreal.

The thing in the mirror is not making the tiniest movement. It's so weird to look in a mirror and see something that doesn't respond to your thoughts.

The mirror comes down, the clipboard lands on my stomach, and the conveyor belt starts moving.

I look like something that should be on a conveyor belt, something manufactured. If a stranger saw me now - even if a friend saw me now - she would never think I was a person who needed to be rescued. She would think I was an expensive sex toy.

I'm in some sort of laboratory now, and a young, serious-looking black-haired woman with glasses has my clipboard. She pulls on surgical gloves, grabs a tray of equipment, and dives between my legs, out of sight behind my new boobs.

She's sticking something wet up my pussy. Once it's there, she puts her fingers inside it and presses it against me in all directions. It feels like a condom, or a glove. When she's got it in place, she puts some tool inside me, and I feel two or three violent jolts of heat. Then she takes a cloth and cleans off my pussy lips.

And she's doing the same thing to my ass.... Oh, God, that feels weird. I can't tell whether this is turning me on or not. I guess it is. No one's ever gone in there before.

Now she's putting the same object in my mouth. It looks like a thick plastic bag. There's goo all over it, and it's working like a glue - she's making sure the bag is stuck firmly to the inside of my teeth. I can see the woman close up - she's actually quite young and pretty.

She put the bag so far down my throat that I was worried it was going to choke me. But it seems to be clear of my air passage. It's definitely not going anywhere.

The clipboard is on top of me again, and the girl is sending me off without acknowledging me at all. She seemed nice, but a little cold.

This is a long ride on the belt. It feels as if I'm being taken to a new building.

I'm in a completely different kind of place. It feels like a motel room, or maybe a dormitory: and someone is playing dance music....

For the first time, a guy is leaning over me, taking the clipboard off of my stomach. He's got a very short haircut, and a lot of tattoos all over his arms. What's going on?

He squeezes my big boobs a few times, and feels my nipples - not in a sexy way, more as if he's checking them for problems.

Then he reaches around behind me, and takes out the IV needle that's been in my arm the whole time. He hangs it up neatly, and presses the needle hole with a cotton swab. He sure doesn't look like a nurse.

Oh - oh, Jesus. The drug is gone, just like that. I can feel myself getting more panicky and terrified each second.

He's got me in his arms and is carrying me somewhere. I'm trying to stop him - but I can't move at all! And I can't make a noise either!

He's putting me on a bed. I have to think - there must be some way out of this....

Oh, God, he's inside me! I'm being raped! Help!

Be calm, Zoe. Think. Oh, God, he's coming in me! I can feel it through the glove thing.

He left me lying here on the bed, my arms sticking up in the air like some doll, stuff dripping out of me. He's on the phone:

"Vance, can you come help me out here?... Yeah, right now. I've got a rush job."

If only I could do something to escape while he's distracted. But I can't even make myself rock back amd forth on the bed. It's as if I'm inside a rock-solid container. Shit! Shit!

Some other guy is in the room. "I did her cunt. I need you to check her ass and mouth." This can't be happening!

"Is she a tight one?" the other guy asks.

"Naw, I've just got a lot on my mind right now," says the first guy.

"She looks a little bit like Madison, doesn't she?"

"She's cuter than Madison. And her tits are a fuck of a lot bigger."

They're standing there laughing at me. Suddenly there's a huge penis in my mouth! The guy has my head in both his hands, and is pulling me on and off of him. I'm staring straight into his shaved crotch, and I can't even look away! My eyes don't even work!

He's pulling out of my mouth. I get a quick look at him: he has long blond hair and a tattoo of a dragon on his neck. It will be easy to identify him if I ever get out of here. But how will I? I'm completely helpless!

He's pulled me on top of him, and I'm looking at the ceiling. He's going to do it - he's going to put it up my ass. Oh God oh God oh God.... Uhhh! Uhhh!

My boobs are flying around and hitting me in the face! This is a nightmare!

Oh, God, they've stopped at last. I'm on the conveyor belt again, leaking all over it. Each guy is filling out his part of the paperwork, and then they put the clipboard on me and start the machinery.

Is there anyone who knows where I am? My God, I don't even know! What was I doing when I was kidnapped? Think, Zoe, think! I remember lying on the grass at school at lunchtime.... Is that the last thing I did? I can't remember!

Where is this belt going? I'm looking at a bunch of pipes, just a few inches away from me. What if I got stuck here?

At last! I'm in a little room with white tiles. A woman in a hairnet is putting the IV drip back in my arm.

How weird. I feel so much better. But nothing has changed. I'm still in the same trouble. It just doesn't seem as bad, somehow.

The woman is sticking a water hose in me, in all my openings. I guess she's cleaning all that semen out of me.

It's so weird: when I think of what those guys did to me, I get a little sexy tingle now. But there was nothing sexy about it at the time.

The woman is doing something to the sole of my right foot. I think she's writing something. I can smell something burning, as if she's engraving something onto me. But it doesn't hurt. Maybe she's just making marks on the plastic casing that I'm sealed inside of.

The conveyor belt is moving again. It's a short trip - so was the last one, really, but I was freaking out when I wasn't drugged. Normally I'm a little claustrophobic.

I'm in some kind of an office. A nice-looking older woman in a dress is standing over me with my clipboard. There's another younger woman in the room, in a lab coat.

"Hello, Zoe," says the older woman. "I just want to put your mind at ease about a few things."

"We feel that it's too risky to send you out to customers in a conscious state," she says. "It's hard for us to know exactly what you're going to be exposed to, or how easy or difficult it will be for you to endure. So our policy is to keep you unconscious for the entire time you're out in the field."

Out in the field? Are they selling me to someone?

"Our contracts with our customers stipulate that you must be returned to the factory every six months for maintenance and refurbishment. So, if all goes well, the next thing you know, it will be six months from now, and you'll be with Sophie's staff in Receiving, in the building next to us."

They're selling me as a sex doll....

"Okay, Tanya, go ahead," says the older woman. The one in the lab coat is putting a new bottle in the IV drip.

"I have to go to another appointment now, Zoe. We'll try to make your stay with us as pleasant and comfortable as possible."

She's leaving. Wait! What are you going to do with me after six months? Are you....

 

 

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27.12.07- 10.02.17