Archive-name: Solo/lab.ff

Archive-author: Linda Loring

Archive-title: Advanced Biology Lab





        I work as a technician in a health research laboratory.

We end up handling some pretty scary stuff.  A lot of the work we

do has to do with AIDS, and we also have some defense contracts

involving research into ways of counteracting biological warfare.

All in all, we work with a good many substances no human should

come in contact with, or even take a chance on breathing.



        Substances like that are handled in a special section of

the laboratory.  No one is allowed in the room when it's in use.

Sealed containers are passed in through a sort of miniature air

lock, and once the inner door of the lock is opened, the

containers are opened and the contents moved around using special

mechanical arms.



        The mechanical arms are manipulated from a control room.

From the control room you can see into the lab through thick,

airtight windows.  You can't see into the control room from the

lab, ordinarily, because the laboratory area is brightly lit

while the control room is fairly dim.



        The whole set-up is amazingly high-tech.  The eight

mechanical arms can reach anywhere in the lab, and their "hands",

each with a "thumb" and two "fingers", have tremendous strength

but are also capable of precise movement, even in microscopic

dimensions.  Normally we manipulate the arms and their hands by

putting our own hands into special glove-like fixtures and moving

our own fingers the way we want their mechanical counterparts to

move.  Larger or smaller movements require separate controls, and

a whole sequence of movements can be programmed into the

computer, which then controls all movements.  We can interrupt

the computer's control if something unexpected happens,

reposition things manually, and tell the computer to pick up

right where it left off.



        There are six videotape cameras in the lab, and they can

be directed to cover any part of the room from almost any angle.

The special video recorders are in the control room, and when we

need to make a presentation to someone outside the lab, signals

from those recorders can be fed into a standard VCR and recorded

in full color onto regular videotape.



        All of this equipment is, as I said, normally used to

work with deadly viruses and other toxins.  But, as I recently

discovered, it can be put to other uses as well.



        The discovery took place late last Saturday night.  I'd

been working on an experiment using several laboratory rats.  It

wasn't my job to give them food and water, but the weekend staff

sometimes "forgets" to take care of the animals in the contagion

room.  My rats were already pretty weak, and if they went all

weekend without food and water, they'd probably be dead by Monday

morning, and I'd have to start the experiment over from the

beginning.



        I'd fretted about the rats all day, and finally, after

coming out of a late movie a little before midnight, I decided to

go over to the lab and check on them myself.  I pulled into the

parking lot behind the lab, noticing absently that there was

another car parked down at the end of the dark lot.  I did a

double take when I recognized the car - it was one of those

little Mazda two-seater jobs, and it belonged Kristin, a/k/a the

"ice queen".



        Kristin was the newest of the research biologists, having

come to work at the lab only two months earlier.  She was a real

whiz with the computer system that controlled the mechanical arms

in the contagion room, but that wasn't the attribute she was best

known for.  The severe clothes she wore couldn't hide the fact

that she was really stacked, and I had to admit that her pale

blonde hair and her face weren't bad either.  All of us females

in the lab, researchers and technicians alike, were jealous of

the way the men had drooled over her at first, but from what I'd

heard, none of them had been able to get to first base with her.

That was why some of them had begun referring to her as the "ice

queen".



        Usually when one of the women's cars stayed in the lot

all night one could infer that she was spending the night

elsewhere, after a successful date with one of the men who worked

in the lab.  That seemed unlikely, from what I knew of Kristin's

reputation, but I decided that her personal life wasn't any of my

business anyway, and went inside.



        The outer door of the building used a regular key, and

then I had to use first another key and then a specially coded

magnetic card to get into the secure area of the lab.  By the

time I'd made it through the last door I was aware that the

lights were on in the contagion room.  That didn't surprise me a

lot, because the weekend staff was often careless about the

lights, too.  Still, I was curious enough to slip into the

darkened control room in order to see, without being seen,

whether someone was in the C-Room, as we called it.



        Someone was there, all right, and the sight just about

blew my mind!  Kristin lay on her back on one of the work

counters, totally nude, her clothing in a pile on the floor.

That would have been astounding enough, but what made the scene

really incredible was that the "fingers" on one of the mechanical

arms were fondling one of her breasts while those on a second arm

were busy admidst the pale hair between her legs!  Incredulous at

what I was seeing, I sat down to watch.



        The computer beside me was on and the screen indicated

that it was in the "engaged" mode, which meant it was controlling

the mechanical devices in the C-Room.  Kristin had obviously done

a little extra-curricular programming, and from what I could tell

she seemed to have done a very good job!  I couldn't hear

anything from the next room, but Kristin's head and body were in

constant motion as the mechanical digits caressed first one

breast and then the other, pulled gently at her engorged nipples,

and glided easily in and out of the dark slit that was only half-

hidden by her silky pubic hair.



        I stood up quietly and slipped a blank tape into the VCR.

I didn't know what I might do with the tape, but the way my own

juices were starting to flow, I suspected that I was going to

want to watch this scene again - in living color, no less!  It

was while I was loading the tape that I noticed a third

mechanical arm.  It was motionless now, but Kristin plainly

didn't expect it to remain so, because its padded fingers were

clamped around the base of the largest dildo I'd ever seen!



        For some reason the sight of that dildo really pissed me

off.  I can't explain exactly why it bothered me so much, but

here was a woman with the most perfect body I'd ever seen, or

even imagined, who could have any man she even looked at.  But

instead of taking any of the offers she'd had, she constructed

her perfect mechanical lover, and now she was waiting for it to

fuck her!  If she were really ugly, maybe I could accept what she

was doing.  For Kristin to do it, though, seemed like a gesture

of contempt for the rest of us, who had to settle for mortal

lovers and their fragile egos, their clumsy foreplay, their

sweaty bodies and their ordinary-sized cocks that so often had to

be coaxed laboriously to life.



        I decided to retaliate.  Without any definite plan in

mind, I switched on the video monitor in the control room, so I

could see and hear what was being recorded on the video tape, and

disengaged the computer.  Kristin looked surprised as the magic

fingers stopped their kneading and probing, and then astonished

as the hand that had been toying with her pussy moved up to her

waist.



        Astonishment gave way to alarm as I used the arm to roll

her onto her stomach.  She began to struggle, making incoherent

sounds, but I pushed two of the mechanical hands into the small

of her back to hold her in place on the flat counter.  I hadn't

decided what to do next, but the sight of her perfect ass,

wiggling as she tried vainly to get her knees under her, gave me

an idea.



        I spread the arms slightly and opened their fingers to

grip Kristin firmly on either side of her narrow waist.  With

their immense strength the mechanical arms had no trouble lifting

her off the counter.  I swung her into the middle of the room,

where she hung suspended by her middle about five feet off the

floor, head down, boobs jutting, legs kicking and arms flailing

helplessly.  "Stop it", she yelled, "whoever you are!  Put me

down, now!"



        I offered no response as my eyes searched the C-Room for

a suitable object.  I found a perfect one on another work

counter - a 50-centimeter scale.  It was like a ruler except that

it was made out of thick, clear plastic, twenty inches long, two

inches wide and about a quarter of an inch thick.



        I activated the third arm - the one holding the

dildo - and Kristin, looking upside down between her legs, must

have seen it move, because she started screaming and kicking

wildly.  "No!  Don't you dare touch me with that!", she shrieked.

She relaxed a little when she realized the arm was moving past

her.  I fully intended to make use of the dildo, but not just

yet.



        Opening the mechanical fingers, I dropped the dildo on

the counter and picked up the plastic scale.  It took a little

maneuvering to get the hand to hold the scale properly, clutching

it near the end and locking the fingers so that a minor flick of

the mechanical "wrist" imparted considerable speed and momentum

to the heavy scale.  Then I moved the arm into position behind

and slightly to the side of Kristin's creamy white ass.



        All I knew about spanking I'd learned as a child, bent

over the edge of the kitchen table while my mother applied a

yardstick to the seat of my jeans or, on a few occasions, to my

bared bottom.  That had taught me that spankings were both

painful and humiliating, and those were precisely the sensations

I wanted the ice queen to experience.



        I gave the mechanical wrist an experimental flick, and

was rewarded with a sharp yelp of pain through the control room

speaker.  The plastic scale had landed on the left cheek of

Kristin's ass, but it hadn't bounced away as I thought it would

have if I'd been holding the scale in my own hand.  I tried a

lighter touch, but it was evidently too light, because Kristin

didn't make a sound.



        In a matter of minutes, though, I became quite adept, if

I say so myself.  Each swing of the makeshift paddle resulted in

a satisfying yell from Kristin and left another pink blotch on

the silky skin of her bottom.  I picked up the tempo as I became

more confident, and let the scale wander over the backs of her

thighs as well as her ass.  In almost no time the ice queen was

sobbing and begging for the paddling to stop.  She hadn't been

spanked as a child, I guessed, or she'd have more endurance.



        I responded to her pleas with a blistering flurry of

smacks that really covered the target area and had Kristin

kicking and screaming.  Any effort she might have made earlier to

keep her legs closed was abandoned, and the video camera had

perfect view of her wet beaver - though it couldn't have been as

wet as mine was!



        Then I moved the arm over to the other work surface and

laid the scale carefully on the edge of the counter.  I picked up

the gross-looking dildo and began moving the arm back toward

Kristin.  She saw it coming and began shrieking in protest again.



        I decided that I enjoyed being the spanker instead of the

spankee enough that I could let Kristin decide when she preferred

the dildo to the paddle .  I dropped the dildo, picked up the

plastic scale, and resumed my attack on that perfectly shaped

ass.



        By that time I was becoming a real virtuoso, and the

feeling between my legs was leading me to think that I should

take up bare-bottom spanking as a serious hobby, if not a full-

time profession.  Kristin yelled and begged as I peppered her

immobilized butt and flailing thighs with dozens of stinging

blows.



        Once her ass and the backs of her thighs had turned a

nearly uniform shade of crimson, I stopped the spanking and

exchanged the scale for the dildo again.  Again Kristin protested

when she the saw the mechanical fingers grasp the plastic cock,

but when I put it down and moved toward the scale, she quickly

said "No, no more of that, don't hit me any more!"  She said

nothing as I moved the dildo slowly toward her.



        The camera had a clear view of Kristin's pussy but I

didn't, so I halted the arm carrying the dildo a couple of feet

away from her, and used the other robot arms to turn her until

she was facing almost directly away from me.  Then I had to move

the camera so that it had essentially the same view I did, and

zoomed it to provide a close-up shot.



        I wondered suddenly, as I swung the third arm around and

thrust the flesh-colored dildo toward Kristin's glistening

cuntlips, if this was how a man felt as he prepared to shove his

dick into a woman's waiting pussy.  Too bad, I thought, that the

mechanical appendages had no nerves; it would have been a blast

to feel what a man feels at the moment of entry.



        Kristin groaned as I touched the tip of the dildo against

the outer lips of her pussy.  I increased the pressure, watching

in fascination as her clitoris flattened and her lips spread to

surround the enormous phallus.  I pushed harder, and Kristin gave

a sharp cry as two inches of the ribbed dildo sank out of sight.

By that time, I was sure, the latex-covered plastic was well into

her vagina, and I must have the angle about right or she'd be

screaming her head off.  My own pussy convulsed with envy as I

gave the control a shove and buried another seven inches of

artificial cock in the ice queen.  The moan that came through the

speaker didn't sound much like pain.



        I pulled the dildo back several inches and pushed it in

again.  The movement required almost no effort, and I marveled at

how quickly Kristin had adapted to an object of that size.  I

started stroking in and out, wishing again that the dildo had

nerves and could somehow transmit to me the sensations it was

feeling.  I wondered if any man had ever been inside the ice

queen to feel those sensations.



        That thought resurrected some of my earlier anger, and I

decided that I'd be damned if I was going to stand there fucking

some woman who thought she was too good to get screwed by a flesh

and blood man - especially when I had a nice vibrator at home

that I'd been neglecting lately.  I stopped thrusting with the

dildo, which provoked little whimpers from my colleague in the

next room, and quickly programmed the computer to continue with a

four-inch back-and-forth stroke, along the same axis, for another

fifteen minutes, then to withdraw the third arm, lower the other

two near the floor, and separate them.



        Fifteen minutes would be plenty of time for the ice queen

to get her rocks off a time or ten, and then to start imagining

the scene the next morning when the weekend crew came in and

found her suspended naked and being humped continuously by

computer-controlled device that only she knew how to program.  It

would also give me plenty of time to get out of the building and

several miles away before a much-relieved biologist could start

trying to identify her unknown tormentor.



        I let the VCR record the first gasps of ecstasy, then

popped the tape out and slipped it into my purse.  I left the

recorder on, so Kristin would know she'd been on candid camera,

and hurried out to my car.  I could check on my mice the next

day.



        Kristin cleaned up well; there was no sign of her

nighttime adventure when I went by the lab about noon the next

day, although I did notice that the plastic scale was nowhere to

be found.  My mice had been fed and watered, and were doing as

well as could be expected, considering the stuff I'd injected

into them.



        The first item on the agenda at our staff meeting on

Monday morning was an announcement that Kristin had resigned.  No

one knew just why, but the director wished her well, in absentia,

in whatever her new endeavors might be.  And I've decided to

learn everything there is to know about programming the computer

that controls the mechanical arms in the C-Room.  The vibrator

was comforting, but I've thought of some experiments I might like

to conduct here, late some Saturday night.



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