Tami uncertainly perched herself on Winant's legs with her back to him.  "I'm
sorry," Winant laughed.  "I have this impulse to try to
preserve your dignity which I suppose is kind of ridiculous.  I should have
said, climb onto the dildo."  The other men were still
chortling over the misunderstanding as Tami reluctantly positioned herself over
monstrosity protruding from her boss' crotch and
began lowering herself.  She noticed that the object was not shaped like a
penis, but was rather squarish with bulges in the center and
at the very tip. With two hands on the arm rests to support her weight, she once
again experienced the complete incongruity of being
vaginally penetrated in the great outdoors before a group of fully dressed
spectators.  The position was awkward for her and the dildo
seemed to go on forever.  There was total silence, punctuated only by her
occasional gasp or squeak as she slowly descended the full
length of  plastic.  Finally she encountered the soft warmth of Winant's
corduroys.  This was as close to wearing clothes as she ever got
– the vicarious thrill of touching someone else's garments.
 
She did not sit still for long.  With the push of a button, Winant began a slow
oscillation of the seat.  Ever the gentleman, he kept his
hands by his sides rather than submitting to the impulse to take hold of his
partner.  Tami felt ridiculous, as if she was on some stupid
amusement park ride, bobbing up a foot in the air, then down.  She could not see
Winant manipulating the remote but he was clearly
increasing the tempo.  Her hair and breasts began to bounce in unison as he took
her up to two thrusts per second.
 
The situation may have been artificial and absurd to Tami's brain, but from her
vagina's perspective, a nice big cock was pounding into
her at just the right speed.  There was something weird about the dildo.  Its
odd configuration seemed to be hitting just the right spots
inside her.  "Oh, God," she moaned.  "I can't check the nipples," Winant
announced.  "How are we doing for stimulation?"  The other men
crowded around, trying to get a good look at the girl's tits as they rose and
fell.  Not wanting to make his colleagues seasick, Winant
dialed back the intensity just as Tami was wishing it would speed up.  "Harder'n
a Hereford's horns," came back the report from Mr.
Fleming.  "Good, good," said Winant.  "Now let me demonstrate the joystick."
 
He came to a complete stop, leaving the panting, frustrated girl impaled
helplessly as he twiddled with the controls.  The joystick
allowed for one finger operation, Winant pointed out, and left the hands free to
roam once a pleasurable tempo was achieved.  He
demonstrated the various ways the chair could be tilted to achieve stimulation
of different areas.  Tami was once again building to
orgasm when he abruptly shut things down.  It made no difference to him, since
he was only receiving the mild pleasure of a pretty girl
bouncing in his lap.  Tami squirmed like a bug pinned to a board.  "Now I'll
demonstrate voice command," Winant said, putting on the
headset and turning on the microphone.  "Let's make love, nice and easy."  The
chair began working slowly again, raising the couple as
if they were bodysurfing in the ocean.  "Oooh," moaned Tami.  Kelleher took the
toothpick out of his mouth.  "C'mon, we've already seen
that.  Let's see how fast can you get this thing going!" he barked impatiently.
"Faster," Winant said, and the motor began pounding out
RPMs.  "Faster," he said again, and they were back up to two thrusts a second.
"Faster."    Now Tami was getting pounded, the tip of the
strange artificial dick slamming into her cervix.  Orgasm was again moments
away, but she was concerned about getting hurt.  "I want
to get off!," she screamed.
 
Instead of stopping, the machine somehow found yet another gear.  The engine
whined and Tami's breasts, which had once gently
jounced in response to the pistoning action, were now practically a blur, and
her body shook like a rag doll being worried by a dog.  The
enormous dildo was an anchor now, keeping her from flying off into space.  Her
cries were unintelligible, but luckily there was no
mistaking the strident chirp of the orgasm monitor.  By the fifteenth beep, the
observers were looking at each other in amazement.
 
Tami wasn't sure how Winant stopped the machine this time.  She was too far gone
even to hear a vocal command.  As her senses
reasserted themselves and she came to rest with a final plop on her boss' lap,
she became aware that the men were laughing
uproariously.  "Miss…Miss...ha ha…Miss Smithers," the bemused Winant struggled
to explain," I should have...tee hee…should have
mentioned that we've programmed certain slang phrases into the machine as well.
Can't expect people to use the Queen's English
under these circumstances.   I'm afraid your little comment got misinterpreted.
Still, no harm, no foul, right?"
 
Tami didn't answer, but instead tried to raise herself off the sex toy and
escape.  She underestimated the depth of penetration, however,
and how much the thunderous orgasm had drained her.  Three quarters of the way
off she slid back down again, precipitating more
hilarity from the onlookers.  "Looks like y'all got a repeat customer, there,
Homer," Fleming observed.  "She's comin' back for more!"
"Let me help you Tami," Winant said, activating the chair's feature that pushed
the user into a standing position.  Still limp with
exhaustion, Tami quickly found herself horizontal to the big dick.  She had been
so slow to react to the movement that she ended up
doggie-style, with her hands on the ground.  This was the position from which
she now more or less crawled to freedom.
 
Kelleher had gone from being gruff to ecstatic.  "With all due respect to your
Magic Wand, Dr. H, all other non-electric dildos are
obsolete!," he cried, pointing to the device as it popped out of Tami back into
the warm sunlight.  "Our competitors have never gotten
past the presumption that the penis was the perfect shape for the device, but
thanks to Chalfont's research we were able to create a
design based on the nerve clusters within the vagina.  Look at the effect!"
Tami had collapsed face-down on the pavement, butt pointed
to the sky.  "I just hope we haven't made men obsolete," Winant said wryly as he
unstrapped the instrument of Tami's ecstasy.  Kelleher
was still bubbling with enthusiasm.  "It'll cost no more to produce than a
conventional marital aid, but the patented design means pure
profit!"  "And royalties," McMasters chimed in.  Fleming couldn't take his eyes
off of the flushed, naked girl who had dusted driveway
grime off of her knees and was now trying to put her hair back in some kind of
order.  It was easy to overlook the black lines on her torso
given her engorged lips, erect nipples, and hugely dilated pupils.  Tami
unselfconsciously panted to get her breath back
 
Dr. Hoekstra now seemed the least impressed of the observers.  "Suppose your man
wants to do something other than look at the back of
his lady's head," he groused, scratching his beard.   "Seems to me this thing
doesn't work for face-to-face relations."  "Not at all," Winant
countered.  "There is enough room for the woman to slip her legs down the sides,
between the seat and the wheels.  An athletic girl like
Tami could even put her legs over the gentleman's shoulders."  Hoekstra squinted
doubtfully at the leg holes.  "Why don't you try it out
yourself?," McMasters urged, in his best used car salesman tone.  "No, no,"
Hoekstra said with a wave of his hand.  "I'm a married
man."  "So am I," laughed Winant, holding up his ring as evidence.  "Look, from
my perspective there is no more sexual contact here
than there would be in a game of touch football.  You've seen the tapes – Miss
Smithers gets mechanical stimulation to a much greater
degree on a weekly basis."  Hoekstra stroked his chin.  "Well, I guess if my
company's buying the thing I should at least get first hand
experience with it…"
 
The ever-efficient Brendo had already produced another identical strap-on and
was putting a light layer of lubricant on the head.  The
elderly doctor clearly felt a little ridiculous as the unusual phallus was
fastened around his hips.  He settled in the wheelchair and the
plastic pole protruded like a bayonet awaiting the enemy's charge.  Tami knew
what was expected of her and went ahead before the
order could be issued.  She climbed aboard, holding the back of the chair as she
guided her legs down the sides and her vagina onto the
dildo.  The resulting position was unexpectedly intimate.  Her whole torso was
pressed against Hoekstra's, and she had to hold her head
back to avoid cheek to cheek contact.  Winant operated the remote and Tami found
herself grinding against the length of the doctor as
they rose and fell together.  He smelled vaguely of gin and tonic and his beard
tickled everywhere it touched.
 
Unlike Winant, Hoekstra had no compunction about holding on to Tami.  His
liver-spotted hands grabbed her ass and even helped
guide the penetration.   Tami was being too stimulated by the dildo to protest,
and besides, it didn't seem so awful given that her
breasts and face were rubbing all over his face and upper body.  Still, she was
aware that her limitations were being further eroded.
The line between "equipment demonstration" and actual sex was about at its
limit.  But damn, this dildo was amazing!  So much so
that she could set aside the revolting conditions and just concentrate on the
pleasure it produced.  "UMM!  AAH!  OH YEAH!"
 
Around the chair, the other men watched with interest.  Fleming was clearly
taken by the young redhead.  "Wherever did you find a
magnificent creature like this?," he asked Winant.  "Oh, she just kind of fell
into our laps!," the maintenance man replied, and everyone
had a good chuckle.  On Hoekstra's lap, fingers digging into the back of the
wheelchair, breasts unavoidably and unabashedly slapping
and squashing all over his ruddy cheeks and white beard, Tami Smithers prepared
for orgasm.  Trying to maintain some control of the
bouncing girl, the doctor's bony hands dug deep into her asscheeks, pulling them
wide open and letting a brisk afternoon wind into her
rectum.  Unbeknownst to her, his fingertips would leave ten distinctive bruises
on her behind, leaving no doubt to the many observers
who would see her bottom later as to what kind of activity she had engaged in on
her weekend away from campus.
 
BEEP!*BEEP!*BEEP!*BEEP!* BEEP!*BEEP!*BEEP!*BEEP!*  In the throes of orgasm she
pressed herself even harder against the
doctor, grinding into him like a lapdancer behind on her rent.  His frail body
had never been on the receiving end of such an
outpouring of sexual energy, since sex in his youth had consisted of a furtive
quickie in the back of a DeSoto.  Fascinated, he put his ear
to her neck and listened to her galloping heart.  His nose in the hollow of her
shoulder, he drank in her delicate smell and felt the
smoothness and warmth of her skin.  Her breathing was so ragged it sounded
almost like a sob.  The exhausted girl gradually regained
her senses and again had the task of getting off the special dildo, this time
while also extricating herself from the legholes down the side
of the chair.  She was too tired to object when the men came forward to assist
her, grabbing onto whatever body part was handy and
pulling her free like a cork coming out of a wine bottle.
 
Tami's legs quivered like a newborn foal as she was set back on the ground.
While the other men helped the thoroughly rumpled Dr.
Hoekstra out of the wheelchair, Tami noted Fleming ducking back into the house
and emerging with a briefcase.  She was now getting
the dim understanding that each of the businessmen had brought some kind of
dildo to test on her.  She had survived Hoekstra's
electric rod and Kelleher's bulbous monster.  What did Fleming have in store for
her?  The same question was apparently occurring to
the other men.  "The floor's yours, Harv," McMasters said.  Fleming adjusted the
bolo tie around his neck.  "Well,  I don't mean to sound
inhospitable or anythin', but I'm afraid my invention still in the early
development stage."  Tami felt a wave of relief.  Maybe Fleming
didn't intend to actually use it on her!
 
The Texan fiddled with his tie again and looked at Tami.  There was something
wholly unsettling in the way he regarded her.  Tami
was used to seeing surprise, disgust and even occasionally pity in people's
eyes.  She was also accustomed to the same impersonal
ogling that strippers endure, where strangers simply revel in the novelty and
delight of seeing bare sex organs, without taking any real
interest in the person to whom the organs are attached.  Fleming's look was
different.  It was the intense, focused stare of a man who
had spotted the woman of his dreams.  With the right person, across a crowded
room, such a look could be the beginning of a
love-at-first-sight relationship.  But the bug-eyed, portly, powder-blue suited
58 year-old could hardly stir the reciprocal emotion in
Tami.
 
"What I'm sayin' is, we're at a highly experimental phase with the polymers.  We
believe we've already got the most lifelike feeling any
dildo ever produced, but I still want to keep it under wraps.  Not that I doubt
any of y'all's integrity."  "Very well," said McMasters.  "So
you won't need our subject's services today?"  Tami's surge of joy was cut short
as Fleming waved a fat hand in the air.  "Now hold on!
That's not what I'm saying.  What I'm saying is I need to test in private.  I
don't even want Miss Smothers to get a look at this thing.
It's kinda held together with duct tape and balin' wire, if you know what I
mean, and I don't want anyone seeing how the various gels
and plastics interact.  Y'all have patents pending, I know, but mine isn't that
far along."
 
Ross shrugged.  " I can't have any gels spilling on the floor inside the house,
but you're welcome to use the equipment shed.  You can
close the door for privacy."  "What are you going to do about the girl?,"
Kelleher asked.  "Blindfold?"  Fleming shook his head.  "Not good
enough.  No way of telling if she can still get a line of sight.  I need some
kind of hood."  The men wandered over towards the little barn
to see what could be used to cover Tami's head.  A cardboard box was tried, but
clearly was too likely to fall off during the sexual
activity.  An empty plastic topsoil bag was considered and rejected, not because
it would pose a danger of suffocation and leave the
redhead filthy, but because it had small tears that might have allowed her to
see.  Finally Ross produced a tall, slim plastic bucket.
"This should work," he said.  The men made Tami get on her knees and the bucket
was pushed down over her head, hard enough to
make her yelp as her nose was squashed against the side.  "Is that good and
tight?," Fleming asked.  The container was tugged and
turned, causing more pain for the girl as it rubbed against her ears and
forehead and pulled at her hair.  Her protests were apparently
muffled by the thick plastic.  "Let's try this," a voice suggested and a hefty
thump on the upraised bottom of the bucket wedged her
head in to the maximum, bringing tears to her eyes.  Unable to breathe though
her flattened nose, she gasped for air through her
mouth.
 
"Still can't be sure if she can see down," Tami heard Fleming say.  "I've got an
idea," McMasters said.  Tami stiffened slightly.
McMasters' ideas tended to run towards abject degradation for her.  She couldn't
see how that could be possible here.  In fact, she
couldn't see at all.  The bucket was so tight around her face that she was
practically in complete darkness, much less being able to
examine the stealth technology incorporated in Fleming's top-secret strap-on.
Tami remained kneeling, like some perverse altar girl.
Abruptly she became aware of a sensation of warmth near her left nipple.
Suddenly, OUCH! she got burned!  She reflexively clapped
her hand over the wounded breast.  "Not even a flinch," McMasters said, taking a
fresh drag off of his cigarette.  "I'm willing to bet if she
had a line of sight downward she wouldn't have let me use her as an ashtray!"
 
"Okay, fellas, that's just fine," Fleming said.  "Now if you'll be good enough
to mosey along…"  The other men left and Tami heard the
big wooden door close.  Her hearing was drastically reduced by her headgear but
she thought she heard paper tearing, plastic
crinkling, and maybe even a zipper.  Unable to see, she felt around awkwardly
for something to hold onto.  Fleming chuckled at the
ridiculous sight of the otherwise naked girl blindly fumbling her way around the
room while sporting a bright green bucket on her
head.  He took hold of her arm and positioned her standing, bent over, with her
hands on a worktable.  Several minutes passed and she
wondered what kind of trouble he could possibly be having with the dildo. She
wished he would hurry up – it gave her the creeps to be
in here alone and sightless with a guy who obviously had more than a scientific
interest in her.
 
Tami was still thoroughly lubed from her wheelchair activities and her labia
parted easily as the head of the object finally pushed in.
Fleming inserted the whole length at once and she could feel his polyester pants
rubbing up against her legs.  "How's that feel, honey?,"
he asked.  "Hits foine," came the muffled response.  "Good."  Fleming began
pushing in and out, and Tami did have to admit his dildo
felt incredibly like a real penis.  It was even warm, no doubt due to some
chemical reaction in the gels.  Like Hoekstra, Fleming was not
averse to handling her, and took hold of her hips to keep her in the right spot.
 Tami guessed that was okay, since she couldn't see and
it was permissible for sighted people to use touch to guide the visually
impaired.
 
No more than a minute or two in, it was clear that the simulated sex was pretty
rough on the out-of-shape entrepreneur.  He was soon
puffing like a freight train and Tami could hear him groaning with effort.
After the almost instantaneous stimulation and orgasms the
other devices produced, she felt unlucky that she was stuck in private with a
guy who obviously had the hots for her and whose product
just felt like an ordinary dick, but who wasn't up to a vigorous fucking like
Rod had accustomed her to.  Fleming, too, must have been
feeling the pressure to bring the girl to orgasm after the impressive displays
of his rivals.  He began encouraging her vocally.  "C'mon,
darlin' that's good…oh yeah, real nice…you're doin' great…"  Meantime, he picked
up the pace.  Tami's ability to get into it was
curtailed by the pain and humiliation of  wearing the bucket on her head, and
she was further put off by the feeling of his potbelly
rubbing all over her bare butt.  She just wanted to get this over with.  In
someone else's hands, the dildo might have done a decent job,
but Fleming was barely up to the task.  So Tami began fucking back, pushing her
hips in time to the Texan's feeble thrusts.  "Hooee!,"
he responded.  "Jesus jiminy, that's a girl!"  Tami used the technique she had
used with the rake, and the jangling handle of the bucket
provided a similar musical accompaniment to her efforts as the clang of the rake
against the wall.
 
Fleming now sounded ecstatic, no doubt mistaking her impetus to finish this
idiocy for a passionate response to his technology.  "Oh,
baby, look at you go!  Give it to me, come on, little filly, you know you want
it!"  Sure enough, her hard work was getting her over the
hump.  "UHH!," she groaned into the bucket.  She was now slamming her butt back
and it was only Fleming's 250 pound heft that kept
him from being knocked over.  She struggled to get enough air in the stuffy
confines and regretted that her multiple recent sexual
encounters had left her feeling weak just when she needed strength and energy
the most.
 
Not only doing all the work, Tami had to listen to what sounded like a rodeo
going on behind her.  "HEE-YAH!  Oh, Lordy!  My gracious
goodness!  You go, girl!"  When she stiffened to orgasm, she felt Fleming's
fingers digging deep into her flesh, leaving another set of
small bruises for later observers to speculate on.  BEEP!*BEEP!*BEEP!*  She came
weakly, reflecting all of the circumstances.
Fleming seemed exhausted and utterly winded.  He lingered for a moment, his full
weight bearing against her, then slowly pulled the
device out.  She stood up and went to try to lift the bucket off of her sweaty
head.  "Nooo!," Fleming cried.  "Gotta let me put the ol' X100
away before you get that off."
 
Tami again heard muffled noises.  This time she was almost certain a zipper was
involved.  "Okay, let's see that purdy lil' face again,"
Fleming said.  He helped her push the bucket up and off.  The change in
Fleming's appearance shocked her.  His face was beet red, and
what little hair he had was plastered down with perspriration.  He had taken his
suit coat and bolo tie off and unbuttoned his collar.
Something about his manner was even more disturbing.  Instead of his usual state
of being eager and edgy and looking at her with a
gleam in his eye, he was relaxed, almost drowsy, and seemed to be trying hard to
keep a smile off of his face.  His case still sat in the
same spot in the corner, closed up like it had been when she had last seen it.
 
A horrible thought occurred to Tami.  She knew Fleming wanted her – badly.  She
had been alone with him, unable to see, and had just
experienced his "amazingly lifelike" dildo.  What if…what if he had just used
his penis instead?  How would she have known the
difference?  She gulped hard.  If he'd used a condom she'd never know, and she
thought she remembered hearing tearing and crinkling
sounds.  She looked more closely at the case.  It had metal latches, no zippers.
 Still, there could be an interior case with a zipper.
Tami's mind whirled.  Would Ross really subject her to unwanted sex?  Was it
rape?  Of course, Ross had no control over what had just
happened – Fleming might have tricked him, too.  Or was this a mind game, like
the dog cage, where she was left to think the worst
even though no harm would come to her?
 
The unmistakable beeps of the orgasm monitor had signaled the other men that the
test was over, and a knock at the door was
answered by Fleming's "Come in."  They couldn't help but laugh as they gathered
around to listen to Tami's debriefing.  Her hair still
retained the shape of the bucket, and McMasters couldn't resist saying, "She
looks a little pail!"  The disheveled Fleming did his best to
restore his appearance before questioning Tami.  "So how was it?," he asked.
"Good and lifelike?"  Tami noticed that the twinkle was
back in his eyes.  "Very realistic," she said guardedly, thinking carefully
about how she could extract further information about what
really happened.  "It was even warm – is there some chemical reaction in the
gels that causes that?"  Fleming looked baffled.  "Not that
I'm aware of.  Guess it just got heated up in the trunk of the car!  Still,
interesting idea – like those handwarmers hunters use, huh?  So
you liked it?"  "It was okay, I mean, I came and everything."  "I'm glad it was
good for you.  Personally, I'm more than satisfied!"  He
mopped his brow and wiped around his neck with his handkerchief.  "You know,"
Fleming continued, his bulging eyes fixing Tami with
a stare reminiscent of an iguana tracking a juicy insect, "I like the cut of
your jib, young lady.  Would you be willing to consider a
position as a summer intern at my firm down in Houston?  Wouldn't pay great, but
there'd be plenty more product testing
opportunities!"  Tami realized she was in a delicate position.  "I'm sorry, I
have other plans for the summer."  "Really," said Ross.
"What are they?  I'm curious as to how our local nudist plans to blend back into
life off-campus."  Her mind still in a turmoil over what
might have just happened, Tami gulped.  "I-I don't think I'm under any
obligation to keep you informed of my whereabouts, Mr. Ross."
"Good heavens," the attorney replied, acting wounded but clearly making a mental
note of her reticence.  "Simply a friendly question
about how one of our top students will be spending her summer.  No need to bite
my head off!"  "Hell, just keep one of those monitors up
her ass and track her like a migratory goose!," the curmudgeonly Kelleher
grumbled.  Ross laughed.  "That won't be necessary," he said
with a casual assurance that gave Tami a chill.
 
All the sexual activity had left Tami with an urgent need to urinate.  Trying to
regain some control of the situation, in which she may
very well have just had sex with a fat old pervert, and given Ross further
ammunition to continue to put her in jeopardy, she
announced, "Mr. Ross, I need to do number one.  Shall do it in your rhododendron
bed?"  Ross feigned bafflement as the other men
looked at Tami in shock.  "I'm sorry, Miss Smithers?"  "Would you like me to pee
on your plants?," she asked, her resolve cracking.
"Why no," Ross responded, scratching his head.  "Tell you what.  There's a
stubborn chalky stain on the lower greenhouse windows –
some sort of alkaloid runoff from the aluminum frame or the paint.  I wonder if
the acids in your urine could address the situation.
We'll head back in that way and see if it does any good."
 
Tami reluctantly followed the men, wondering how long Ross had spent planning
her weekend activities.  It was all flowing so
seamlessly.  She also wondered if Ross' efforts to break her through shame were
having the opposite effect – hardening her to
humiliation.  The Tami of August of last year avoided public restrooms because
she found it hard to go knowing that other women were
on the other side of the stall.  Now she was about to play window washer with
her own pee while a group of men looked on.  Had she
simply become stronger or was Ross pushing her bluff to such an extreme that she
WOULD wind up not needing clothes for the rest of
her life?
 
The greenhouse windows went all the way to ground level.  Ross told Tami to
press herself against the glass to ensure the stream didn't
wind up in the surrounding dirt.  Meanwhile, he and the other men wandered into
the structure, ostensibly to gauge the results
without running the risk of being splashed.  They assembled right in front of
her, enjoying the view of the pretty teen's distorted tits
mashed up against the panes.  Tami felt it was somehow appropriate that she was
on the other side of clouded glass from these men,
whose view of her was so occluded and dirty.  Her first burst of urine, however,
cut a clean swath through the residue, allowing the
observers inside an intimate view of the remainder of the process.  Tami had no
idea that her pee was making the window crystal clear
as she did her best to keep her urethra aimed onto it.
 
When she finished, she stepped back, only to see the faces of the men, crouching
low, through the sparkling pane.  She was filled with
revulsion but did her best to act unruffled when the came out to congratulate
her for a fine job.  "You should hire yourself out," Fleming
joked.  "Put on your card that you DO do windows."  "You mean pee-pee, not
doo-doo," Dr. Hoekstra commented wryly.
 
"Speakin' of commercial possibilities," Fleming continued, tossing an arm around
the young beauty's shoulders in his best
wheeler-dealer fashion, "I've been thinking about ways to take advantage of
your…ah…unique way of life.  Mutually beneficial, of
course.  Hear me out on this."  The portly entrepreneur was now strolling along
the back of the house with the naked girl, literally,
under his wing.  "Y'all attract a lot of attention.  Let's face it, fellers will
pay good hard money to see ladies in your condition in go-go
bars.  But you're not making a cent for yourself – you're givin' it away free!
Hurts me to the bottom of my profit-maximizing heart.
Now I realize you're following your religion and not trying to cash in, but I
believe I have a win-win proposition for you."
 
Bemused, the other men were walking along behind, within earshot of the oily
businessman and within eyeshot of the undulating
buttocks of the eighteen-year old.  "What I propose is this," said Fleming,
stopping suddenly and making a sweeping gesture with his
free hand.  "A tattoo on your back advertising Fleming's Love Products.  You'd
never see it yourself, only folks tagging along behind
you would."  He shot a look at the other men, who burst out laughing.  "You'd be
a walking billboard – a real eyecatcher.  I'd be willing
to pay you $75,000 a year as long as you stayed permanently naked and made
reasonable efforts to get out and about in public."
 
Tami looked at the man in shock.  "You want to put an ad for
dildos…permanently…on my skin?"  "No, we're not just about dildos.  We
offer a full line of products for the liberated couple.  And no specifics would
be mentioned.  Let me see…"  He turned Tami's back to him
and began approximating the placement of text on her with his hands.  "FLEMING'S
LOVE PRODUCTS in inch-high
letters…probably need to do it in two lines across the top here."  Tami felt him
blocking out a large area across her shoulderblades.
"Then down here, smaller type, we could say, "I use them, I love them," or "Ask
me about them," "Available at fine adult
establishments"…Needs to be smaller, though, pull people in close to read what
it says."
 
Tami broke away from the hands now touching her lower back.  "Are you crazy?  No
way are you turning my body into a commercial for
sex toys!"  Fleming held up his hand.  "Just an offer, Miz Smothers, for you to
think about.  It'd all be tastefully done – nice fancy
typeface if you want it.  Seems to me you'd be getting a good living wage for
doing nothing more than walkin' around like you already
do."  "Yeah, and having perverts stopping me to ask about vibrating butt plugs!
The answer is no!"  "Aw, come on, Honey, you'd have
full approval over the final text.  Maybe all we put on you is
www.flemingslove.com.  Would that be okay?  Hell, you young folk all walk
around with tattoos these days.  Face it, you're not going to be cutting edge in
fashion in any other way, are you?  Seventy five grand
buys a lot of sunscreen, and frankly I don't see you working for any Fortune 500
company – even one with a casual dress code."
 
Ross now stepped in.  "What exactly IS your objection, Miss Smithers?  I hate to
see one of our students turning down a lucrative job
offer.  Given the popularity of tattoos, and the fact that your contemporaries
who wear clothes have no problem advertising any
number of designers and beer manufacturers on their shirts, I'm not sure what
grounds you have for opposing to some tasteful mention
of Mr. Fleming's firm."
 
"It's unthinkable!," Tami cried.  "It's sleazy…exploitation!  I chose this
lifestyle to be true to nature, not to create marketing
possibilities!"  Fleming chuckled.  "I just love a good hardball negotiation,"
he said.  "Tell you what, I'm willing to up the money.  Of
course, in return, you'd need to offer up some more interesting body parts to be
tattooed."  "It's not about money!," Tami fumed.  "I don't
care what you're willing to pay, my body's not for sale!"  Fleming pouted, then
brightened.  "Okay, let's talk about something different.
How'd you like to be the Fleming's Girl?  You could represent us at conventions,
do product demonstrations…"  "No," said Tami.  "I'm
not interested.  I'm a student, I don't need a full-time job!"
 
"Yes, quite right," said Ross.  Tami whirled in shock.  Ross was supporting her?
 "In fact, if I remember correctly," the attorney
continued,  "your criteria for employment were being on or near campus and not
too time-consuming.  I assume the lie detector was
accurate on that point?"  "Y-yes," Tami hesitated, knowing Ross well enough that
another shoe was sure to drop.  Ross looked at
Fleming.  "Well, unless you can offer something that meets those very reasonable
restrictions I think you're out of luck."  Fleming
clapped his hands triumphantly.  "I've got it!  As you might have guessed, I
haven't been in the marital aids business my whole life.
Matter of fact, I started out running my Daddy's used car business in Lubbock.
We used to do T.V. commercials every week where I'd
walk through the lot and show off the latest creampuffs we had for sale.  Seems
to me, what with the Internet, we could do the same
thing with my current products.  I'd talk about the product, Miss Smothers'd
show how it works – we'd be the most popular webcam
couple around!  We could film a bunch of spots in a weekend – hell, people would
probably pay just to see the commercials!"
 
Tami was rapidly going from anger to fear.  Fleming was not giving up, and with
Ross' help she was going to end up getting trapped.
She knew what was coming next – Ross arguing that there was no material
difference between what Fleming was proposing and her
being paid to be filmed masturbating with a dildo at Chalfont.  She could see it
now, her splayed out naked on a bed, pistoning some
dayglo-colored rubber dick into her vagina while Fleming in cowboy boots and a
Stetson stood in the foreground, barking into the
camera, "Shoot, I'll even throw in some anal love beads at no extra charge!
Miss Smothers' got a set up in her right now!  Pull 'em on
out, Honey, and let the folks see how good that feels!"
 
In her bafflement, for once Tami did the right thing.  "Let me think about it,
Mr. Fleming," she said.  She saw Ross open his mouth,
pause, and then close it again.  He had no reason to insist that her decision be
made instantly.  Score one for the Type Four, she
thought.  "Okay," said Fleming, pulling out a business card.  "Geez, I guess
you've got noplace to stick this.  Well, let Henry know your
decision and he can get back to me."  The businessmen packed their gear, and
Winant, Brendo and McMasters put their things back in
the van.  In a matter of minutes the whole group was gone, leaving a thoroughly
orgasmed young woman alone with her chief
inquisitor.
 
"All right," said Ross, with a clap of his hands.  "I'm afraid we've gotten away
from your primary mission for the weekend, which is
yardwork."  Tami suppressed the urge to laugh.  If ONLY I could concentrate on
yardwork, she thought.  "Since you brought the
deplorable state of the pond to my attention, you will no doubt be eager to help
rectify the situation.  I let it drain overnight so that the
accumulation of silt at the bottom could be removed.  Help yourself to a
wheelbarrow and shovel from the shed and spread the material
you take out in the flowerbeds.  Should be as good a fertilizer as your own
stools!"
 
The last reminder had been thoroughly unnecessary, Tami thought, as she headed
for the outbuilding.  She put a shovel in the barrow
and pushed it down to the bottom of the yard.  A foul stench was evident long
before she reached the site of the pond.  To her dismay, it
emanated from the slimy muck that coated the concrete bottom of the ornamental
pool.  She would have to get in there, and get her feet
covered with it.  Tentatively, she poked the shovel into the green-brown glop.
It sank in a good three inches.  The pond wasn't that
large, but it had steep, sloping banks.  This was going to be one miserable job.
 Still, it killed time and kept Ross from grilling her more.
It also preserved her dignity from a sexual standpoint, although from a labor
perspective it was about as demeaning as you could get.
 
Tami stood on the grass and began taking shovelfuls out from around the rim and
dumping them in the wheelbarrow.  The silt was still
saturated with water, making it heavy and hard to dislodge.  It was also
difficult to get the stuff out of the barrow and spread around
the flowers.  Tami couldn't decide what was worse, the back-breaking effort or
the putrid stench of decaying sediment.  When she'd
cleared the banks as best she could, it was time to step in.  She walked
carefully, using the shovel to help maintain her footing on the
smooth, slippery concrete.  The muck was cold and felt absolutely disgusting as
it squished around her feet.  How long would it take to
get the smell off of her skin?, she wondered.
 
Now she had to lug each shovelful back to the bank in order to dump it.  All
went well, until, carefully negotiating the slick concrete
bank for the thirtieth time, she suddenly lost her footing and fell backwards
with a splat.  The ooze cushioned the blow but left her back
coated from head to heel with the horrible, smelly glop.  Even her hair was
covered in it.  Getting back on her feet, she shuddered at the
feeling of gravity pulling the thick, cold sediment down the length of her body.
 She couldn't wait to get done and get into the shower.
Then she remembered.  Her medicinal skin treatments had to stay on for twenty
four hours.  That left about six hours before she could
wash.  As she released more layers of the material, the smell got even worse,
bringing her to the point of retching.  There was no
escaping it now, since she herself was carrying a coat of it wherever she went.
 
Angry, Tami rolled the barrow down into the pond so that she could avoid having
to climb out with every load.  When the time came to
empty it, however, she realized she'd made a mistake.  The heavy container was
almost impossible to push up the slippery side.  Tami
strained with all her strength, her feet digging for traction in the soupy
slime.  She was halfway up when it happened.  Her feet shot out
from under her, and she landed facedown in the mud.  Suddenly released from her
grip, the barrow rolled backwards, flipped on its side,
and deposited its load atop her.  Struggling out from under the cart, she was
now totally covered.  Her left ear and both nostrils were
full of gunk, but her first priority was spitting out the healthy portion that
had wound up in her mouth.  With her hands thick with
muck, she couldn't even wipe it out of her eyes without adding as much as she
was taking away.
 
Tami was forced to roll in the grass in an attempt to wipe off as much of the
fetid material as she could.  She was well aware that she
looked like a dog rolling around.  Her stomach gurgled with the urge to vomit
and the taste and grittiness of the sediment would not
leave her mouth.  Not only couldn't she wash, she couldn't even go back inside
Ross' precious house like this!  What would she say when
she saw him?  Tami looked down at her gleaming brown figure.  She looked like a
chocolate bunny. Still, she thought with bitter irony,
not only wasn't she being sexually abused, she was actually covered up for once!

 
Tami returned to her task.  If Ross had been watching through the windows he had
shown no concern regarding any injury or ingestion
of bacteria.  She wondered if he had even planned this.  A cool breeze and
bright sun meant that the material was quickly drying on
her skin.  She wondered if she could rub it off once it got dry enough, but an
effort to do so just smeared grit around.  Tami got a good
whiff of herself and realized that she now looked and smelled exactly like a
piece of shit.  Tears welled in her eyes.  That was it.  She had
been mortified when Ross made her produce feces, but now he had reduced her to
the level of shit herself!
 
Still, Tami scraped and lugged, content to remain in this private hell since she
preferred it to whatever unknown horrors Ross might
otherwise visit upon her.  When she finished, she realized that she should use
the hose to wash the equipment, but couldn't clean
herself.  Even a shovel and an old wheelbarrow rated higher than her in this
household!  She walked back to the shed and sprayed the
tools off, leaving them to dry in the sun.
 
Ross must have been keeping track of her, because he came out of the back door
as soon as she was done.  With him, not surprisingly,
were a group of six or seven people.  Tami couldn't decide what was more
embarrassing, being seen by strangers in this condition or in
her usual state of nudity.  The visitors wrinkled their noses at the stench, and
two of the women went so far as to hold handkerchiefs
over their mouths.  Tami stood awkwardly, looking like the Creature from the
Black Lagoon, not knowing what to do with herself.
"Well, Miss Smithers," said Ross, "it looks like you decided to give yourself a
mud bath!"  "I slipped," the weird, dripping figure
explained.  "So I see," Ross said politely. "Would you mind standing over there,
downwind, while I give these good people a tour?  Thank
you."
 
Giving Tami a wide berth, the visitors walked around the garden while Ross
pointed out items of interest.  Tami saw them looking
closely at the roses she had fertilized yesterday, and had no doubt Ross was
giving them the full details.  A chuckle from the group and
a collective look in her direction affirmed that they were now fully up to date
on her defecation schedule.  Finally the group returned to
Tami.  One of the men spoke to her.  "I must say, you've done a fine job of
organic husbandry here!  Nothing but blood, toil, tears, sweat,
and a couple of other substances I won't mention!"  The group laughed again
while Tami blushed under her layer of mud.
 
"This is the Flower Club," Ross told Tami by way of introduction.  "We meet
every Sunday afternoon for tea and discussion.  You are
welcome to eat with us, but I'm afraid your current condition is a little
unappetizing.  I can't allow you inside in that state to clean up,
so…"  Ross reached for the hose and began turning on the faucet.  "Um, Mr. Ross,
aren't I supposed to not wash for twenty four hours?,"
Tami hurriedly asked.  In a perverse way, she liked spoiling Ross' garden party
with her odious presence, and she didn't mind terribly
that her new acquaintances were unable to stand and gawk at her bare vagina.
Ross looked thoughtful for a moment.  "You're quite
right.  Still, I think the treatments have had sufficient time to work.  I would
have thought your foremost concern would have been
getting your skin back to its natural state."  He looked at her skeptically,
then finished cranking the valve to wide open. Before Tami
could protest further, he told her to turn around, pointed the nozzle at her and
squeezed the trigger.  Tami was blasted with an icy
shower that as much blew away the hardened mud by sheer force as it did wash it
off.  Ross began with her legs and worked upward.
Her buttocks jiggled and flattened under the intense stream.  The vicious
torrent next pounded onto her back and she cried out from
both the impact and the cold.  "Sorry, needs to be good and strong to knock that
stuff loose," Ross shouted above the gushing water.
Tami bore up as best she could, anxious herself to be rid of the noxious mud.
The downpour hammered against the back of her head,
and the visitors became aware for the first time that the attractive young woman
emerging before their eyes had red hair.  Ross now
rinsed back down her body, leaving clean pink skin as he went.  Returning to her
bottom, he took a few steps forward and aimed the
thunderous discharge directly between the buttocks of the unsuspecting girl from
no more than a foot or two away.  The force spread
her cheeks, exposing the only skin that had actually remained clean in the first
place.  As Ross gratuitously rinsed the area, a direct hit
on her anus caused it to open, and Tami received an alfresco enema.  Her orgasm
monitor rode the surging surf high into her rectum.
Ross directed the hose away and gave her a moment to recover.  Shivering with
cold, Tami instinctively voided the water that had
invaded her bowel.  The crowd watched with interest as what went up came down in
several gushes.
 
Ross stepped back and told her to turn around.  The weird half-swamp
creature/half-human complied, turning its filthy front to the
spectators.  Although Tami had gotten rid of the water in her rectum, she
realized that the monitor had been driven up beyond the
range of her excretory muscles.  Before she could sort out that situation,
however, Ross again started on her legs, the hissing stream
spattering against her skin with a sound like bacon frying in pan.  Then he
directed her to hold out her arms.  As he rinsed off her
upper limbs, Tami realized that he was stripteasing her for his friends, leaving
the best parts till last.  Sure enough, the water next
exploded into her midsection, jackknifing her body as she recoiled.  Struggling
to maintain some dignity, she regained an upright
posture, just in time for the attorney to start on her left breast.  The soft
flesh danced and bounced wildly under the water pressure.
Ross tossed the tit this way and that, ostensibly to thoroughly clean it on all
sides, but in reality just to make the girl feel
uncomfortable and ridiculous.  The left breast then got its turn to act as a
punching bag, bobbing on the waves of water pressure.  The
spray got in Tami's eyes and she reflexively shut them.  She yelped in pain as
Ross scored a direct hit on her nipple, just in time for him
to move up to her face.  Ross callously aimed the stream into her open mouth,
causing her to gag.  As she attempted to simultaneously
spit, swallow and breathe, the rest of her face was blasted clean.  Water shot
up her nose and poured off her hair into her ears so quickly
that it sounded like she was underwater.
 
Ross held the hose low, at his hip, and aimed with the confidence of a veteran
gardener.  To the observers, standing off to the side, it
almost appeared as if he was launching a powerful stream of piss at the girl.
Still spluttering and barely able to see, Tami endured a
rinse from head down as Ross worked his way to the last muddy area.  His
expertise had ensured she had been left with the equivalent
of a bikini bottom of grime.  Ross now obliterated the layer of covering with a
flick of his wrist.  Tami looked down her slightly reddened
skin to see the now familiar black stripe and her clean-shaven pudendum restored
to its usual state of public display.  Ross pointed the
hose off to the side momentarily.  "Did any get inside you?," he asked.  "I
don't know," Tami answered.  In truth, her vagina was still
sticky from banana residue.  "Put a finger in and see," the attorney suggested
helpfully.  Tami hesitated, then realized she had no
reason to decline.  Parting her legs slightly, she winced as she wiggled her
index finger in to herself before the interested spectators,
who were now fully appreciating the sleek, muscular form that had just been
carved out of the smelly mud.
 
When she pulled her finger back out, it was lightly coated with a good gritty
loam.  More than one of the Club members found
themselves thinking that the girl's warm, moist sex organ in its present
condition would have the ideal characteristics for planting
orchids.  Ross instructed her to turn back around and bend over.  "Open your
legs…wider…raise your behind."  The staunch
churchman quickly had the limber girl in a XXX-rated position, her fully exposed
labia parting under the strain.  Tami trembled
visibly from the cold, the difficult posture, and the knowledge of what was
coming.  Ross swung the high-pressure stream slowly over
the back of her leg, so that she could once again feel the pounding and
anticipate it reaching her tender genitals.  The girl gasped and
her legs quivered as the water approached her most private area – relatively
speaking, of course.  Ross again strode forward to ensure
that the cleansing jet had sufficient power to pop the orifice open and sluice
it out thoroughly.
 
There was a change in the sound of the spray as it entered Tami's reproductive
tract.  Instead of surface spattering, it now gurgled like
a pot being rinsed out.  Tami felt as if she had sat on top of a fountain, and
was almost surprised that water didn't spout out of her
mouth when she opened it to give a cry of discomfort.  Ross douched her long
after the water ran clear, no doubt out of concern for her
health.  When he shut off the flow, the once-repulsive, filthy person now faced
the task of being reintroduced to the Flower Club as a
vibrant, gorgeous, naked young girl, shivering and dripping in the cool
springtime air.  Ross commented, "That's the worst of it off, but
we've still got the smell to deal with.  There's some soap by the sink in the
equipment shed.  Why don't you go get that and use the hose
to wash yourself thoroughly."
 
As she walked to the little outbuilding, Tami noticed for the first time that
two employees of a catering service were setting out a formal
tea on the picnic table.  Formally clad in black and white uniforms, the man and
woman, both about her age, had clearly watched the
whole spectacle.  The slim, dark haired young man's face was animated and he
openly ogled the redhead as she went past.  The girl was
ashen, her eyes darting back and forth as laid out silverware, no doubt
wondering about her own safety in this place.  She was a
gorgeous blonde – no doubt the caterer considered physical attractiveness when
hiring its staff.  Tami felt even more conspicuous
under the gaze of the discomfited girl.  Part of her wanted to reassure the
shaken blonde, let her know that she was the only person who
would be subjected to gross sexual indignities this afternoon.  But part felt a
strong pang of jealousy that while both she and the
waitress were simply performing jobs in Mr. Ross' pay, the blonde's job
consisted of serving finger sandwiches, while hers consisted of
fingering herself.
 
Tami got the soap and walked back to the hose.  She would rather have hidden
away behind a tree to do what she had to do next, but as
a committed nudist had no excuse not to bathe in the open.  Tami knew full well
it was an erotic spectacle to watch a girl lather up and
hose herself down, and could see that every person at the table had oriented
themselves so as to have a good view while they nibbled
canapés and debated the virtues of various types of bark as a mulch.
Nevertheless, she cleaned up, noting that her stripes faded only
slightly despite her efforts with the soap and water.  The gushing hose seemed
incredibly phallic under the circumstances, but she had
no choice but to point it at every bare inch of herself.  When she was done, she
shook herself to get rid of the excess drops, realizing only
after the fact that Caesar dried himself in the same fashion.
 
Ross beckoned her over to the table.  Now she was pink, scrubbed, and
fresh-smelling, nipples erect, hair slicked back.  She awkwardly
perched at the end of one of the benches and the waiter came over and leaned
close to her ear.  "Something to drink, madam?"  "Um, hot
tea would be nice," Tami shivered.  Conversation about horticulture stalled
awkwardly as the naked newcomer took her seat.  "So," the
man who had spoken to her earlier eventually said, "I must say I'm a tad jealous
over Henry's ability to secure a source of cultivated
fertilizer for his roses, particularly one so charming.  I've won the blue
ribbon the last three years running but I feel like I'm at a
disadvantage now.  One can certainly buy manure of any variety, cow, pig, goat,
but you never can be quite sure as to what the diet of
the animals providing the stuff consisted of.  But by controlling what she eats,
Henry can alter the mix of nutrients however he
pleases!"
 
"Now, now, Ron," Ross said, shaking his head.  "I'm merely experimenting with a
sample of Miss Smithers' feces.  You make it sound
like it's her full time job!"  "Nevertheless," the man replied, "I think it
would be gentlemanly of you to level the playing field.  Let me
have a similar "sample," as you call it, to take home and apply."  "Well, that's
not up to me," Ross replied, "that depends on Miss
Smithers and her need to evacuate."  He looked over at the girl who was visibly
cringing at the memory of yesterday's defecatory
debacle.  Pinky raised as he nibbled a cookie, he asked, "How about it?  It must
be twenty four hours since your last bowel movement.
Can we make this a fair contest for Mr. Everett?"
 
Tami looked around the table desperately.  The waiter had apparently gone inside
to fetch more hot water for her tea, but everyone else
was regarding her with polite expectation.  "I don't feel like I need to go,"
Tami said, "and the…uh…monitor kind of got pushed up
inside me by the hose."  "Oh dear," said Ross.  "I hope it's not up so far that
digestive juices are getting at it.  You can't push it down at
all?"  Tami tried, but it seemed like the thing was beyond her rectal muscles.
In fact she couldn't feel it at all.  The girl's face contorted
and reddened as she strained, doing her best to put on a good show without
actually succeeding.  It made for an interesting spectacle
amid the stylishly dressed Flower Club members enjoying their elegant meal.
"Sorry," she eventually gasped.  "Just have to wait for
nature to take its course."
 
"A splendid thought for a naturist," Ross said, "but one that makes me look like
a bit of a poor sport.  Luckily our Club's philosophy is to
give nature a helping hand, when necessary, and we have the botanical know-how
to do it.  If you'll excuse me for a moment."  Ross got
up, just as the waiter came back out of the house with a steaming pot of hot
water.  Ross stopped and spoke to him for a moment before
proceeding into the garden and snapping a sprig of leaves off of a bush.
Returning to the table, he said, "This is supposed to be a potent
herbal remedy for what ails Miss Smithers.  I'll just sprinkle these leaves into
her cup, and if this young gentleman would be good
enough to add some water, we can let it steep for a minute then see how
successful it is."
 
Ross stripped a few dozen of the small leaves off and piled them into Tami's
teacup.  As he resumed his seat, the waiter reappeared over
her shoulder.  Obviously a tit man, he insinuated himself as close as possible
to her in the guise of providing attentive but inobtrusive
service.  "Pardon my reach, Miss," he murmured, placing a hand lightly on her
back and practically touching cheek-to-cheek as he bent
to fill her cup.  "Will there be anything else?"  "No, thank you," Tami replied
coldly, anxious to get him, literally, out of her face.
 
Meanwhile, the water in her cup was turning a bilious yellow.  Tami had no doubt
that her herbal tea was intended to have a laxative
effect so she was not anxious to drink it.  She wondered how Ross knew what the
correct dose was – or if he even did.  Ross was in an
animated discussion about aphids and several minutes passed before he noticed
she had not touched her drink.  He got up and scooped
the soggy plant material out of her cup with a spoon.  "Drink up," he said.
"Help yourself to cake or cookies if it tastes too bad."  All eyes
were on Tami as she took a tentative sip.  Yuck!  It was incredibly bitter!  She
took a sugary biscuit and bit into it, swirling it around
her mouth to try to chase the sour sensation away.  Another sip caused her face
to pucker involuntarily.  "How is it?," asked Everett in
response to her obvious revulsion.  "Good!  You want to try some?," she said
with mean-spirited sarcasm.  Her comment got big laughs
from the group, who thought she was making light of the situation.  Everett
smiled and held up his hand.  "Thank you for the offer, but
I can't run as fast as I used to and I don't want to bet an expensive suit on my
ability to get to the bathroom after a dose of that stuff!"
 
Tami looked into the fine china teacup.  There were still several swallows of
the fearsome liquid left.  She was feeling no effects,
however, and maintained hope that the solution was so weak that it would not
produce results.  The big problem at the moment was the
horrible flavor.  She decided the easiest way around that issue was to gulp down
the rest while holding her breath.  One big mouthful
got rid of most of it and she grabbed another cookie to kill the taste.  Tami
felt ridiculous in these surroundings.  The linen tablecloth
and napkins, silverware, fancy pastries – even a doily in the saucer where she
placed the cup – all spoke of refinement, proper manners,
and good taste.  And here she was, stark naked and freshly bathed, drinking a
solution intended to facilitate her provision of a stool
sample for an amateur gardening enthusiast.
 
Tami shifted around a little to judge whether anything was happening.  She still
felt normal so she drained the rest.  Admittedly, the
hot liquid and her body's shuddering reaction to its taste had helped warm her
up.  Meanwhile, Ross had mentioned Tami's "Stalking
Wild Plants" class and the club members began including her in the conversation.
 They seemed quite interested in her explanation of
how various wild plants could be used for food.  Responding to their
intelligent, insightful questions she was able to forget for a moment
that they were total strangers and that she was totally nude.  She also forgot
that she had a bellyful of a potent laxative that had
steeped in her cup at least twice as long as was necessary to give thorough
relief.  It was while she was emphasizing a point about the
uses of the marshmallow plant that she first felt an internal ballooning
sensation.
 
"Actually the root is the most nutritious part.  It can be boiled and served
like potatoes or any other root vegetable, or…oh, my
goodness!…chewed raw to relieve toothache."  Ross saw the same look on Tami's
face that he'd seen prior to his golf outing yesterday.
Shock, discomfort, and uncertainty mingled together.  One hand went to her
stomach while the other grasped the edge of the table.
"One should need good sturdy boots, I would imagine, to gather a marsh plant,"
one of the women observed.  "Tell me, how long do the
roots remain usable after they are harvested?"   "They can be dried and…uh!…last
almost indefinitely, I think…we didn't
really…oh!…go into that aspect very much."  "And what is the appropriate method
for storage, whether fresh or dried?"  "Fresh you
would need to refrigerate, dried, I…I…I'm having a problem!  I need to go!  Oh
my gosh!  Mr. Ross!"
 
The panicky girl turned desperate eyes to her worst enemy.  Ross made a show of
getting up hurriedly.  "Great Scott!  We need a
container for Miss Smithers to move her bowels into!  Find something, quickly!"
The tea party broke up as the various members went
in search of an appropriate vessel.  Her hated bucket from the shed was
produced, but rejected since it didn't have a lid.  Meanwhile, at
the table, the pressure in Tami's abdomen was growing unbearably.  She wasn't
sure if the monitor was blocking anything but it felt as
if nothing was moving down out of her stomach.  She leaned to the side, trying
to take some of the weight off of her middle, supporting
herself on her left hand.  Her legs scissored together as the discomfort grew.
 
Meantime, the Flower Club members seemed to be treating the event like a
light-hearted scavenger hunt.  They examined flowerpots,
watering jugs, even pesticide jars.  Everything was dismissed for one reason or
another.  Finally, it was the beautiful waitress who
saved the day, producing a one quart Styrofoam box with a plastic lid that had
been used to transport fruit.  Tami was helped from the
table and into a squatting position in the grass over the container.  Anonymous
hands helped steady her as paroxysms of pain hit.  Her
body, still damp from the hosedown, was no longer chilled.  Instead sweat began
pouring out of her.  "Take it easy, now," Ross
cautioned.  "Remember that the monitor will be the first thing out and we can't
have it getting damaged.  When things start moving go
nice and slow, let it out gently."
 
The position and the pressure caused the ball to shift from its unknown location
and slide down Tami's rectum.  She could feel its slow
progress until it ultimately settled in its usual spot against her anus.  Tami
could now use her muscles to strain but the monitor was
still a significant obstacle.  Her squatting posture allowed the observers to
watch her sphincter bulge and the white surface of the
device emerge then getting swallowed back up as her muscles relaxed.  Each time
she pushed, she got it a little further out.  What
started as a few sympathetic words of encouragement rapidly became outright
cheering as the crowd got into the battle.  "Push!"
"Attagirl, you've got it going!"  "Just a little more, don't quit!"  "Oh!
That's okay, try again!"
 
No one wanted to help, both to preserve the modesty of the nude girl squatting
in the bright sun, and since whoever released the plug
would likely be drenched in the resulting flow.  The pressure and pain in Tami's
stomach kept getting worse, but she could not force
herself to endure the agony of passing the ball through her tiny butthole.
Finally Everett, feeling guilty that his request had caused
all of this,  had had enough.  He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves,
then went into the shed and emerged wearing a pair of long
rubber gloves.  He crouched by Tami's side, looking like a vet helping a cow
deliver a calf.  The suffering girl made no objection as he
used his right hand to adjust her hips and placed his left hand on the back of
her right thigh.  "Go ahead and push," he instructed.
"You're going to feel my finger inside you."  Eyes popping, Tami again produced
the leading edge of the monitor from her sphincter.
She then felt a textured, latex-covered finger entering her moist vagina.
Everett hooked the finger up, pinning the back side of the ball
through her perineum.  Clamping his thumb over the visible external portion he
began wiggling the mechanism out.  Tami was now
caught between the suffering of having her anus slowly stretched by the overly
careful gardener and the unexpected sensation of
having her G-spot roughly stimulated by the nubbly surface of the glove and the
vigorous digging action of Everett's finger inside her.
 
"No, stop!," Tami squealed, recognizing all too well what was happening in her
genitals.  "Bear up, young lady, this has to be done,"
Everett said sternly.  "Hold on, it's coming!"  In the spirit of the moment,
Tami began coming too.  BEEP*BEEP*BEEP.  The monitor
was louder than ever as it was worked free.  When it popped loose and landed
safely in the palm of the glove it abruptly stopped
beeping.  Everett's finger was momentarily trapped by a powerful vaginal
contraction but was still able to whisk it out before the flow
started.  The herbal remedy had apparently liquefied the contents of Tami's
bowels and despite the intense pressure that she was
feeling the fluid came out in controlled stream.  Everett again adjusted her
hips slightly to ensure that her anus was properly aimed
into the container and Tami filled it with grateful gasps of relief.
 
While Everett carefully sealed the lid on his prized fertilizer, the pretty
waitress wordlessly handed Tami a handful of paper towels to
wipe herself with.  Tami looked at the young woman, so much like herself, yet so
different, like a caged bird enviously watching wildfowl
through the window.  A mere accident of chance was all that separated them.
Under different circumstances it could have been her in
the elegant black uniform watching in amazement as the naked blonde pumped out
diarrhea for an appreciative rose fancier.  She still
felt the impulse to assure the other girl that she was a perfectly normal person
caught up in a web of circumstances that left her
stripped, striped, shaven and shitting.
 
But was that really true?  Were permanent changes being wrought?  Most likely,
the blonde would have broken down crying the night
of the streaking incident, admitted everything, and batted her gorgeous blue
eyes often enough to have gotten off with one term of
academic probation.  But Tami was a fighter.  She wasn't going to be the weak
female, begging for mercy.  No indeed.  Whatever it took,
she was going to win, and win on her terms.  Taking stock of herself, she
realized she was not so inured to the constant nudity that she
didn't feel ashamed when new people saw her.  She knew that any College-
arranged sex exploit still required a deep breath and a
blanking out of her mind before she could go through with it.  Yes, the real
Tami was still inside her, and the real Tami wanted to be
inside a pair of corduroys and a sweater.  Of course, that's what made it all so
hard.  It would almost be preferable if Ross really had
broken her, and she simply jerked her legs apart like a marionette whenever he
pulled the strings.  Still, she'd made it this far through
the year, this far through the weekend.  She couldn't lose it all now.
 
On that ennobling note, Tami finished wiping and took the soiled paper over to
the trash can.  The waiter, timing his move carefully,
arrived at the can with some food waste at exactly the same moment.  "Hi," he
said.  "I'm Jay."  He did not extend a hand, and Tami
understood why.  Her right hand had a big wad of shit-smeared paper in it.
"Hi," she replied, as noncommittally as possible, keeping
her head down.  "What's your name?," the ladies' man persisted, a confident
smirk on his face.  "Tami," she muttered, dropping the
paper in and cringing as a hovering fly made a beeline for it.  "Yeah?," he
whispered conspiratorially.  "So what gives with the Lady
Godiva act?  These old farts paying you or are you in some kind of trouble?"
Tami wanted to reply "both," but instead she just said, "I'm
getting paid."  "Man," said the handsome server, "I can't imagine how much
someone would have to pay me to do what you just did.
What's your rate?  Some buddies of mine are throwing a bachelor party and it
would be fuckin' epic if you would come and work it!"
 
"No, thanks," said Tami.  "Technically what I'm doing is scientific research for
the College."  The waiter laughed.  "Research? You just
took a dump in my kiwi fruit box!  Listen, tell me who to submit my findings to
and the guys and I will be happy to help you with any
experiments the College wants!"  Tami looked desperately over at the Flower
Club, hoping that they would call her away from this
lothario.  She caught the eye of one woman, who shot her back a wistful look as
if to say, "Ah, young love."  The attendant had dropped
any semblance of the politesse that he had used on the tea party.  "C'mon, babe,
you're hot!  Shit, if I could get you and Tina over there
together we could all make a fortune.  "Tami and Tina," it even sounds good!"
Tami looked over at the waitress, who was bending over
the table to pick up plates.  Her delectable ass pressed up against the back of
her short skirt and Tami felt a shot of moisture inside her
vagina.  The waitress must have sensed their eyes on her because she glanced
over and then approached.  The waiter grinned at her
but her countenance was cold.  "Leave her alone, Jay," she hissed.  "She's got
enough problems.  Help me gather the utensils."   Jay
shrugged at Tami and walked away.  She didn't know whether to be grateful to the
waitress or offended.  What she did know was that
the little ice princess now had her cunt in a lather.  She could see why men
liked women in cute little uniforms.  Tami watched the
heads of the male Flower Club members turn in unison as the blonde swished past
on her trendy platform heels.  Amazingly, a pang of
jealousy went through her.  All this time hating being the center of attention,
and she still instinctively reacted to being one-upped by
a prettier rival!
 
The party now broke up.  Everett, bearing his precious pail of poop, came over
to thank Tami once more.  "It was nothing," she said
automatically, then blushed.  It was now late afternoon, and Tami realized she
was in the home stretch.  Alone again with Ross, she
noted that he seemed a little downcast.  She also realized that her despised
anal monitor was nowhere in sight.  It disturbed her that
none of the Flower Club members had commented or questioned it – it was if they
knew about it all along.  She wondered if Everett
might have kept it as a souvenir.  In any event, she didn't feel compelled to
ask Ross about it.  Then a wild thought entered her head.
She had survived everything so far – why not get in Ross' face a little bit?
 
"I don't see my orgasm monitor anywhere, Mr. Ross," she said sweetly.
"Shouldn't it be back in?"  Ross gave her a startled look –
another point for the Type Four!  "Uh, no, Miss Smithers, that won't be
necessary.  You've certainly fulfilled Mr. McMasters orgasm
quotient already.  An even dozen by my count, that is if you did indeed orgasm
when Mr. Everett was extracting the monitor the last
time."  The fight wasn't out of Ross yet.  "Yes, I did," said Tami, not letting
her brave front be shaken.  She gave the attorney a friendly
smile.  "If you're telling me we can leave the monitor out I suspect you have
some other plans for my anus!"  Ross did indeed look
uncomfortable for a moment.  Then he straightened himself up and smiled.
"Indeed I do, Miss Smithers."  He consulted his watch.  "In
fact, your friends in the scout troop should start arriving any minute for your
follow-up visit.  Why don't you head downstairs and get
ready?"
 
Tami wondered what getting ready she needed to do.  Being nude seemed to be
about all that was required of her; the actual details of
her activities were in the hands of horny men.  Still, she went to the rec room
and waited, hoping for a disappointing turnout.  As she
listened, what seemed like a battalion of sneaker-clad youths assembled
upstairs.  Ross apparently was giving them some kind of pep
talk, and she heard occasional cheers.  Tami wondered if there was a less
enviable position for a naked girl to be in – killing time as a
group of teenaged boys were whipped into a frenzy prior to meeting with her.
All too soon, the basement door opened and the lads
thundered down.
 
Tami was surprised that thirteen of the scouts returned for a second look at her
in person.  After all, little had been left to the
imagination the previous day.  They wouldn't even get a chance to touch her
today!  It turned out that a number of them had brought
cameras, apparently they were now all suddenly working towards that Photography
Merit Badge.  Tami quickly found herself in the
midst of a mass photo shoot, feeling like a celebrity attacked by paparazzi.
Except that these kids were shooting close-ups, ostensibly of
the condition of her skin.  The two absent boys undoubtedly would need hours to
go through the documentation of the healing process
that their fellow troop members were so thoughtfully providing.  Ringed by
flash-popping shutterbugs, and under the watchful eye of
Ross for any hesitancy, Tami did her best to respond to a barrage of barked
orders.  "Move your legs apart!,"  "Lift your hair!," "Look
over here," "Keep that hand out of the way!"  "Bend down…further...further!"
 
When the photoshoot was over, Ross stood, looking thoughtfully as the boys
stowed their cameras and the precious film.  "We can
develop them over at my house," Adams said enthusiastically.  "If you want to
get the Merit Badge you need lots of practice making
exposures."  As the teens prepared to leave Ross held up his hand.  "It seems a
shame to have had so many of you come out just for
this," he said.  The scouts looked at each other in confusion.  How could a nude
photo session with a pretty girl be considered a waste of
time?  "As long as most of you and Miss Smithers are here I would like to do
another aspect of our lifesaving in the wild program.  Is
that all right with you?"  The group nodded.  More time with naked women made
excellent sense.
 
"Recall our discussion on hypothermia and the best way to treat that silent
killer.  Mr. Trombley, do you remember the method?"  The
shy kid turned bright red, but it was not clear if he did so because he was
being called on to speak or because of some aspect of the
details.  "You…undress the victim and get in a sleeping bag with them."
"Exactly!  Miss Smithers has saved us that difficult first step
and we certainly have a sleeping bag that we can dedicate to the purpose.  To
show the effectiveness of the treatment, however, our
subject needs to have a reduced body temperature."  Ross reached into the first
aid kit and took out a thermometer.  "Mr. Yu, can you
obtain an initial reading for us?"
 
The youngster shrugged and stood up.  Taking the glass tube from his
scoutmaster, he approached Tami.  She obediently opened her
mouth and lifted her tongue in anticipation.  Ross chuckled.  "Miss Smithers is
apparently unaware that a proper medical kit uses a
rectal thermometer!  Imagine sticking that thing in her mouth with her teeth
chattering, or trying to get a measurement while she's
unconscious!  Not a wise idea!  Miss Smithers, turn around so everyone can see."
 Almost blind with hatred for the pompous attorney,
Tami presented her backside to the boys.  "Does she still have that transmitter
thing in her but-bottom?," Yu asked, placing his left
hand on her lower back.  "Nope, you've got clear sailing in that respect," Ross
replied.
 
Tami bent over in response to pressure from Mr. Yu's hand.  He apparently made
some gesture with the thermometer that drew giggles
from his fellow scouts and a sharp "Mr. Yu!" from Ross.  Tami felt the familiar
sensation of anal penetration.  Tami stood up again, with
the glass tip protruding from her buttocks like a tail.  Ross spoke generally
about hypothermia while the group waited for the
thermometer to register.  "The motto is, nobody is dead until they're warm and
dead," he concluded.  "How inspiring," Tami thought.
The flip chart again was used, showing a graph with the amount of time it took
an unprotected person to enter the danger zone,
dependent on the outside temperature.  She wondered how Ross intended to reduce
her body temperature but was not inclined to ask.
 
Mr. Yu extracted the thermometer and verified that Tami was maintaining a
healthy internal temperature of 98.6 degrees.  Ross told
him to reinsert it and then took Tami's elbow and began walking her to the rear
of the rec room.  She felt ridiculous, knowing that a
little glass tail was waggling between her buttocks with every step, entirely
visible to the group of scouts following.  Ross took her
through a door in the modernized part of the basement into a musty, brick-walled
area, where she stood facing a gleaming steel door
with a small window set inside it.  A large walk-in freezer had been added to
the basement when it was anticipated the old Conservatory
might be used as a conference center.  Ross had no use for it generally, but had
gotten it up and running prior to Tami's arrival.  Now
the dial on the gauge outside registered minus 10 degrees Fahrenheit.
 
Ross pulled the heavy door open and cold air began to pour out.  He gestured
politely with his hand, like any proper gentleman
allowing a lady to go ahead of him.  Tami gingerly set her foot on the concrete
floor inside, and immediately felt it sucking the heat out
of her body.  She turned back to Ross to protest but saw the heavy door rapidly
closing behind her.  Instinctively she jumped all the
way in to avoid being caught.  The door slammed shut.  Needles of cold
penetrated her body instantly.  She gasped and a cloud of vapor
emanated from her mouth.  The shelves of the freezer were empty, and the only
illumination came from a single naked bulb, far
overhead.  Through the window she could see Ross and the scouts still gathered
around, but her arms were clutched around her so
tightly in an effort to retain some warmth that she could not gesture for help.
Instinctively she began running in place, at the very
least to keep her feet from frostbite on the mercilessly frigid floor.
 
Her lungs were so shocked by the sudden change to dry, Arctic air that she felt
like she could hardly breathe.  Even so, she softly cried
out.  "Please!  It's too cold!  Please let me out!"  The scouts looked in
curiously but it was clear that they were not doing so in response to
her pleas – rather simply to watch a pretty naked girl hopping madly.  Tami
circled around, desperately searching for some source of
warmth.  Then she saw it.  Hanging off the end of one of the racks was a
full-length parka, with thick fur inside.  "Ooooh!"  It was
torture, absolute torture.  The cold was almost unbearable.  She turned away
from the tempting sight of the coat only to notice that the
men had gone.  There was no one monitoring her!  How long would they leave her
in here?
 
Her muscles were beginning to feel heavy and unresponsive.  The cold was
pitiless in its penetration, attacking her whole body at once.
Her nose hairs were frozen stiff.  Her nipples were tiny brown buds.  She had
lost feeling in the soles of her feet and her hands were
tingling painfully.  As she hopped in circles, the coat grew more and more
tempting.  This was life and death!  She could at least put it
on for a minute and hope the scouts didn't come back!
 
As with the electric dildo, it quickly became hard to tell how much time had
passed.  The sensations were so intense it soon seemed as if
she'd never been warm in her whole life; never known anything but cold.  She was
starting to feel weak, having expended tremendous
energy in her initial frenzy of activity.  It had all been useless.  The cold
reigned supreme in here.  There was no escape.  Well, there
was one escape, but she couldn't use it.  No, her goddamned nudism, and Ross'
creativity in exploiting it at every turn, ensured that the
coat remained tantalizingly useless.
 
Tami's joints were now being affected.  She was feeling thick and immobile.
There was no need to carve a statute of her – just freeze her
solid.  What pose would you like, Mr. Ross?  Something masturbatory?  How about
a sled dog next to me instead of Caesar?  A memorial
statute of Tami of the North Pole, with the Pole up her vagina, of course.  And
why not stick the South Pole in her ass while you're at
it?  The shock of the cold and the pain were causing her to lose touch with
reality.  She was now hunched, arms wrapped around her
waist, and the only motion was a tremor of her blue-tinged lips.  After spending
minutes fervently wishing for it, she didn't couldn't
even react when she heard the door opening.  The touch of warm hands on her body
felt so good she gave an involuntary grunt of
pleasure.  It took her a moment to realize that Mr. Yu and Mr. Trombley were
standing on either side of her, preparing to pick her up.
Feminine modesty and basic human dignity demanded she resist and walk out on her
own, but she couldn't.  She was lugged out like a
piece of furniture.
 
The warmth was almost too intense.  It felt almost like stepping into a bath,
even though it was just air.  Placed back at the front of the
rec room, still in her bent over attitude, she presented an ideal posture to
remove the thermometer.  It came out without further ado,
and was held up to the light.  "95.8," said Mr. Yu.  "Excellent," said Ross.
"Into the sleeping bag!"  Tami's ability and motivation to
avoid a fate as horrible as a session in a sleeping bag with two nerds was
overcome by the need to get warm.  She was lifted again,
turned to horizontal, and slipped into the sack.  Trombley crawled down behind
her, and the smaller Yu slipped in the front.  The three
teens made a tight sandwich but Tami could only concentrate on the heat flowing
into her body.  It felt so good she could hardly object
to her naked body being subjected to such close confines with undoubtedly horny
boys.
 
The other scouts couldn't help but giggle at the strange, three-headed monster
wriggling around on the floor.  As Tami recovered
through the early stages of hypothermia she again reached the shivering point.
The whole bag began vibrating as the muscular girl
shuddered violently.  Her living hot water bottles pressed close to enjoy the
sensation.  Hands were busy on her numb flesh but she
welcomed every touch, soaking in the heat.  Ross carefully monitored the
situation, and ordered everyone out of the bag before Tami
felt totally recovered.  Again the thermometer went up her butt, and verified
that the fast-acting scouts had restored her temperature
to 97.9.  Ross seemed satisfied.  "She's out of danger, but we'll use some brisk
physical exercise to ensure that her body is capable of
generating its own heat.  Some jumping jacks, Miss Smithers?"
 
The full-body exercise put the superbly conditioned young athlete on perfect
display.  Her lithe muscles rippled, her firm breasts
bounced, and her vagina popped open with every leg spread.  Ross next had her do
pushups ("Touch those nipples to the floor!"); situps,
with a lucky boy holding her ankles; deep knee bends; and squat thrusts.  When
he'd exhausted the list of the most humiliating
calisthenics for a nude girl, he'd exhausted the nude girl.  She stood panting
as the rectal temperature gauge was again poked in.  98.4.
"Hot food should finish the job," Ross proclaimed.  Thankfully, unlike the
previous health demonstrations, there would be no
repetition.  The group proceeded upstairs and Ross fired up the outdoor gas
grill.  Not surprisingly, it was a weenie roast, and Tami
soon found herself holding a steaming hotdog while twenty six teenaged eyeballs
waited for her to put it in her mouth.  The boys did
their best to be nonchalant about the naked girl at their cookout, but couldn't
always restrain themselves.  "What would you like on
your wiener?," the scout doing the serving asked.  "Tami!," more than one of his
troopmates replied under his breath.
 
Tami declined the offer of a pickle and had no desire for either the Popsicles
and chocolate éclairs offered as dessert.  She did wolf down
two hotdogs, however, with as much dignity as a young nude could muster under
the circumstances.  The meal could not end, however,
without the appearance, and disappearance, of the rectal thermometer.  It
affirmed that Tami was now fully recovered, at 98.6.  The
scouts were reluctant to leave, until Adams reminded them that they could
develop their film at his house.  "I gotta a couple shots that
I can't wait to see!," Kearney enthused.  Other troop members grinned in
agreement.  "What about the law enforcement training you
mentioned?," Holzer asked Ross.  "Oh, heavens.  That won't take place until the
Fall sometime.  Still, let me know if you're interested
and I'll see what I can arrange.  If there is enough demand I could probably set
up a special session just for you."  Tami shuddered as
she saw all the heads nodding enthusiastically.  "Keep a grip, Tam m'girl," she
told herself.  "The only cavity searches those dweebs are
going to be involved in will be at their dentist's office.  You'll be long gone
by Fall."
 
The scouts left sadly, casting many a backward glance, as if to imprint the
redhead's form on their memory forever.  Tami, for her part,
was quite drowsy even though it was just 7 P.M..  She wasn't sure if it was
simply physical and nervous exhaustion, or whether the
lowering of her body temperature was affecting her.  Maybe even some side effect
of the herbal tea.  In any event, she could hardly keep
her eyes open.  This didn't trouble her in the least, since once asleep she was
off-limits to her host and her weekend of torment would be
over.  Ross didn't seem overly downcast as she told him she was going to bed,
which troubled her slightly, until she remembered his
advice about never letting a Type Four think they've beaten you.  "But I have
beaten you, Mr. Henry Ross," she told herself as she
trudged up the stairs.  "You never laid a glove on me!"  For some reason, the
last thought struck her as extremely funny and she
couldn't stop giggling.  Yet the oppressive tiredness kept her from the feeling
of utter glee that she had so richly earned.  She toppled
onto the mattress.  "Not a glove…not a finger…"
 
"Out cold, Henry, entirely appropriate considering the way you froze her ass,"
McMasters whispered, craning his neck around the
doorframe.  Ross flicked on the light, but the nude form on the bare bed did not
stir.  "Still looks pretty hot to me," said Dean Jorgon,
excitedly undoing his pants.  Rank demanded that he go first, and he impatiently
snatched the box of condoms out of McMasters hand.
"Too bad those students who claim the administration's out of touch with them
can't see this," he chuckled as he rolled Tami onto her
back and yanked her ankles apart.  Naked and spread on the white slab, she
looked like a virgin sacrifice as the august men huddled
around her defenseless body.  As Jorgon got down to his underpants, wrinkled
hands aggressively kneaded her tits and probed her
vagina.  Scowling, the Dean ordered everyone out.  "A little privacy, here, as
this train pulls out of the station!"  The others headed
back downstairs, laughing as they said "All aboard!,"  "Choo-choo!"
 
Jorgon wondered if the little minx would have been quite so cheeky about showing
him her genitals if she had known this was coming.
He had been waiting for this moment ever since that display in his office.  The
girl was not so defiant now, taking deep, even breaths,
her well-formed breasts rising and falling above her visible ribs and concave
stomach.  "This is for every one of those sluts who walks
around my campus in a miniskirt, or showing off her pierced bellybutton.  You
think just because we're old men in suits we don't
notice?  And you're the worst of them all!  You can only push men so far!"  Now
Jorgon was doing the pushing – shoving his erect penis
into the vagina that had been so generously displayed to him.  It felt so good
he almost forgot his hatred – God, she was beautiful, the
line of her jaw, the soft skin taut over her cheekbone…
 
It took only minutes for the inevitable to occur.  Jorgon climbed down and
peeled off the condom.  Quite a load – not bad for 63!  From
now on, no matter how mouthy she got, he had a little something in the back of
his mind to make him smile.  "Fuck you, Dean Jorgon!,"
was her attitude.  "Consider it taken care of, Miss Smithers!"
 
Ross came next.  He turned his daughter's picture to face the wall.  As a
prosecutor, he knew that sex crimes were about power, not
carnal gratification.  This was about punishment and revenge, not lust.  To be
honest, his fixation on destroying the girl's lie had made
her attractiveness immaterial to him.  Asleep, she was peaceful and benign.  He
paused as he thought about the rapists he'd put away
over the years.  How stupid could they be, letting their victims get skin
samples under their fingernails, leaving semen behind?  This
was the way to do it.  In fact, it really wasn't even violation if she didn't
know if happened and didn't suffer any ill effects.  "Victimless
crime," he chuckled as he plunged his penis into her and began fucking,
literally, with a vengeance.  When he'd finished and dressed,
he went out in the hallway to inform McMasters that the young woman actually did
have one redeeming quality.
 
McMasters matter-of-factly flipped Tami on her stomach.  "I've done enough
research on this ass.  Now it's time for a test drive!"  He
struggled to get his large organ through her tight anus, and shook his head at
the resiliency of the human body.  He'd seen that
asshole spread wide enough to fit a baseball through, but it still grabbed onto
him like an octopus on an oyster.  McMasters reveled in
the sensation.  He'd charted, measured, scanned, and recorded the girl's rectum
in every conceivable fashion, but nothing could
compare with direct experimentation.
 
The rest of the cast now followed.  Brendo, Zipkin, even gentle Dr. Harridance
and his East Asian colleagues.  Ned Ryan still couldn't
have his blowjob, but made do with what was offered.  Anthony Noyse went ahead
and stuck it in her mouth regardless, enjoying the
vibration of her light snoring and stimulating himself until he filled the
reservoir tip of his condom.  "That's a good way to shut you up,"
he snarled as he left, little placated by the oral service he'd just helped
himself to.
 
Tami awoke with a start, expecting to see the next male dropping his drawers at
the end of her bed.  Her room was empty, silent, and
dark.  Her hand flew down to her vagina.  It was a little moist, as sometimes
happened when she dreamt about sex.  Her anus was
slightly sore, but that was not uncommon after a day where it had seen
considerable traffic.  She flicked on the bedside lamp and looked
down at herself.  No stray hairs, no scratches, no wet spot on the plastic
mattress cover.  If she could prove she'd been drugged and
gang-banged…but no, Ross was too smart.  There would be no evidence.  They
probably wiped everything down with alcohol, vacuumed
her body and the mattress…God, total paranoia!  It was bad enough that they
controlled her body sixteen hours a day, now they were
creeping into her subconscious as well!  And they did control her body.  Even if
she was in her room studying, or in her own home, she
had to be naked at all times!
 
Tami began to feel angry.  She had won, despite everything Ross had thrown at
her.  But what further layers of post-traumatic stress
had he laid on her?  Would she still dream, forty years from now, about wrinkled
old men shoving arthritic digits into her?  She made
one simple mistake, but these sadists kept ratcheting up the pressure on her.
Who knows what lies ahead, she thought.  It can only get
worse, until such time as I'm out of here for good!
 
Tami calmed herself.  It would do no good to let Ross know he'd rattled her.
No, a committed nudist would have taken every event of
the weekend in stride.  Still, feeling empowered by her victory, she decided to
turn the tables on Ross.  She crept down the hallway to
his room.  "Rise and shine, Mr. Ross," she said loudly.  The lump under the
blankets stirred in the darkness.  "What in the…oh, Miss
Smithers…"  "Time to take me back to campus, sir," Tami said with mock respect,
hiding her giddiness.  "Oh, but…it's 5:30 in the
morning!"  "Always good to get an early start, wouldn't you say?"  Tami
helpfully flipped on the overhead light as Ross sat on the edge
of the bed, feeling around for his slippers.  He cringed at the brightness.  The
always dapper attorney looked ridiculous in his rumpled
pajamas, his usually well-groomed hair sticking out in every direction.  Tami
paced the room as if she owned it, in the same fashion
that Ross had done to her when he'd rousted her in the morning.  Then she saw
it.
 
Ejected from the video player, but not yet put back in its sleeve, was a tape.
On it was marked simply "TS – 3/15."  Tami froze as she
recognized her initials.  "Mr. Ross, what is on this tape that says TS?," she
blurted.  "Oh…," the attorney replied, eyes
uncharacteristically darting nervously, "I don't stay up late enough to watch
the Tonight Show so I try to record it.  I'm a big Johnny
Carson fan."  "But Johnny Carson retired years ago," Tami said, a sick feeling
growing in her stomach.  "Oh, yes, I meant, um,
whatshisname, Dave Leno.  I certainly enjoy his monologues."  Tami thought about
correcting Ross again but her tongue suddenly felt
thick and stuck to the roof of her mouth.  She did a little mental arithmetic.
March 15th had been a Thursday, a Chalfont day.  Tape
had most certainly rolled as she was put through her paces, nude and helpless,
anus and vagina stretched to capacity by McMasters'
diabolical dildos.  Had  Ross been watching that tape…in bed…alone…for
entertainment?  She caught her breath.  Or was this just
another sophisticated trap he'd set, hoping she would stumble in?
 
Ross walked past her on the way to the bathroom.  She heard the shower go on and
felt an incredible temptation to check the tape, but
resisted it.  Just because the water was running didn't mean Ross couldn't
suddenly reappear to check up on her.  Feeling creepy in the
man's room, where he might have been masturbating to her naked suffering, Tami
bolted out.  She put on the light over the stairs and
wandered down to the darkened library.  Somehow she felt safer there – more like
she was a college student and not a naked
houseservant.  The stately rows of legal books reminded her of her fantasy of
one day suing Ross, Dean Jorgon, the College, and every
other bastard that had cruelly exploited her for their own jollies while
steadfastly maintaining that they were acting in the institution's
best interests.  Her dream, in its most extreme form, had the school renamed
Smithers College, a women-only institution devoted to
feminist scholarship.  The toad-like men of the former administration were now
doing their court-ordered community service in the
Chalfont Institute for the Study of Male Sexual Dysfunction, providing the eager
young female researchers with plenty of data
concerning erectile difficulties, diminished sperm count, and urinary
incontinence.
 
As Tami strolled past the shelves in the room, dimly lit by the light in the
hall, she inadvertently knocked a legal pad off an end table.
It hadn't been there when she'd gone up to bed the night before, and she picked
it up to put it back.  By now, however, Tami recognized
Ross' handwriting.  Scrawled on the front of the pad were the following.  "Call
Dr. Evans -McLean Hospital –involuntary commitment
factors???  Current state of "in loco parentis."  Transcribe Wanda notes!!"  The
intelligent girl felt a flash of cold through her stomach.
McLean Hospital was a mental institution just outside of Boston – specializing
in disorders in adolescents and young adults.  She
suddenly realized that by courageously meeting the outrageous, sadistic
escalations the administration had tested her with she had
conveniently built a case that she was insane!  There was plenty of
documentation, on videotape, in photographs, the lie detector
transcript - even the damn voicemail orgasm she'd left for Ross!  There were
also plenty of people who would testify against her.  Wanda
had been keeping notes?  She could only imagine how that bitch would describe
her behavior.  She also knew what "in loco parentis"
was the college's ability to act in place of her parents as a guardian.  Could
Ross himself really have her committed?  With his
connections and his friends in this state?  Would they make her dress at the
hospital, or should she try to keep up the charade? If she
admitted she was lying, would that be more evidence that she was crazy?  She
shuddered as she imagined herself nude, or wearing just
a straightjacket around all of those drooling weirdos.
 
This thing was going too far.  Ross had her truly scared, now.  Yet…yet…what if
it was another bluff?  Why would the secretive
attorney casually leave this information lying around?  Tami heard the shower go
off and hurried back up to her room, shutting off the
light behind her.  She sat back on the bed, clutching her knees, and tried not
to shake too hard.  She WAS crazy – this whole situation
was crazy!  Neither she nor Ross could back down.  It seemed like a good
strategy this far, but had he ultimately outsmarted her?  She
imagined herself, nude, standing next to the dapper attorney at the intake room
at McLean.  A nurse writing down her particulars and
Ross signing her freedom away, shaking his head in feigned sadness "Such a
promising student…so sad an end…"  Male attendants
putting on restraints and lifting her into a wheelchair.  Ross smiling at her as
if to say, "Remember your last ride in a wheelchair?  Well
this one won't be so much fun!  Don't worry, with your life expectancy you
shouldn't have to spend more than, oh, about sixty years
here!  Have a nice day!"  One attendant unlocks the door and Tami Smithers rolls
into oblivion forever.
 
She shivered.  She heard Ross come out of the bathroom and go into his own room.
 In a few minutes he emerged, clad in a dark blue
pinstriped suit.  He seemed quite cheerful.  Had he done something, or found
something out last night that elevated his mood?  Tami
looked up at him as he paused at her door.  She got off the bed wearily.  If he
had her already - if he'd won - she had even less
enthusiasm for going through the routine degradations like pissing in the
flowerbeds.  But she had to go, nonetheless.  "Where should I
urinate this morning?," she asked flatly.  Ross laughed.  "Try the toilet, Miss
Smithers.  We need to civilize you again if you're going to
go back to dorm life."  Tami felt confused as she headed to the bathroom.  Was
Ross letting up since he didn't need any more evidence?
Or was he quitting because he knew he couldn't beat her?
 
She sat on the toilet and tried to make sense of it all.  She emptied her
bladder, then fear and nervousness produced its predictable
effect on her bowels.  Out of habit, she had left the door open, so just as a
large stool passed Ross poked his head in to remind her to take
her toothbrush and comb.  She answered him with a loud splash.  No, she thought
with a rueful grin, he hasn't given up on humiliating
me.  There was something perversely comforting in that.  Tami wiped and flushed.
 On top of everything, she had a very full week
ahead of her at school.  The weekend hadn't been much time off.  She gathered
her things and went downstairs.  Ross was already at
the breakfast table, eating toast and coffee and studying the morning paper.
Tami couldn't help but notice a large, freshly cut white
rose in his lapel.  He gave it a conspicuous sniff as she entered, to remind her
that this symbol of her degradation would accompany him
all day.
 
Ross now seemed anxious to get rid of her.  Tami assumed he had used up
everything he'd planned to break her over the weekend and
had no further purpose for her at the moment.  Still, he remained himself.  When
Tami had eaten a bagel and juice, he handed her the
box with her anal monitor.  "See that this gets back to Mr. McMasters, would
you?  You'll likely see him before I do.  You're welcome to
show if off to your friends – even show them how it works – as long as you make
sure no harm comes to it.  Oh, and I've included a note
in the box to verify that you complied with his instructions."
 
The roads were deserted as the Town Car made its way to campus in the predawn.
It was too early for either of the enemies to have put
together an agenda so the ride passed in silence.  Tami could almost physically
feel normalcy flowing back into her body as familiar
landmarks appeared.  Like the survivor of a sinking, she couldn't wait to put
her feet back on solid ground, out of Ross' custody.  Now
she could do what she wanted, see who she wanted, piss where she wanted…There
was her building, bright, warm, and inviting.  Ross
pulled up and nonchalantly parked in the space out front designated "Authorized
Vehicles Only."
 
To Tami's surprise, the attorney got out with her.  She got a momentary fright,
wondering what he was going to do, before she realized
his purpose.  Standing directly in front of the main doors, with students
streaming out to early classes, Ross slowly counted out money
in twenties, pressing each bill into her hand.  "You did an outstanding job,
Miss Smithers," he said.  "One forty, one sixty, one eighty.
Worth every penny.  Two hundred, two twenty.  I must say I was very, very
satisfied.  Two forty – oops, looks like I don't have a ten.
Well, here's another twenty – keep the change.  Thanks again for a wonderful
weekend."  Tami fumed.  The implications of what he was
paying for were clear.  She would have wanted to throw the money back in his
face even without the cheap shot in front of her
dormmates.  Instead she controlled herself and folded the bills up.  "You're
welcome, Mr. Ross."  "I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot of you
around campus," he said, heading back for his car.  "As usual!," Tami replied
lightly.  Despite a feeling of impending doom, it was an
enormous relief to be out from under Ross' scrutiny and control.  Tami bounded
up the stairs gleefully, just as she had on that Friday
afternoon that now seemed so long ago.  Still, once behind closed doors, her
stomach tightened as she wondered whether she really had
scored a victory in this weekend of horror, or if she had unknowingly signed her
own commitment papers.
 
Speaking of papers, Tami's curiosity got the better of her as to what Ross had
written regarding her orgasms.  She opened the monitor
box and removed the slip of paper.  On Ross' elaborate letterhead was written
the following:
 
              "AFFADAVIT OF H.M. ROSS, ESQ.  This document will attest that I
was personally in attendance during ten (10)
              orgasms experienced by Miss Tami Blanche Smithers, a freshman
student at Campbell-Frank College, between the
              dates of April 6 through April 8, 2001.  I also have evidence of
an eleventh orgasm recorded as a voice mail message, and
              oral statements by reliable witnesses establishing a twelfth
orgasm during this time period.  The orgasms were verified
              by the activation of a device (patent pending) designed by Mr.
Nevada McMasters, which was present in the rectum of
              Miss Smithers and capable of measuring the anal contractions
consistent with her characteristic sexual climax and
              reporting said contractions through audible beeps.  I have no
reason to believe the device malfunctioned in any respect
              and can confirm that each orgasm that was reported occurred at the
height of  an episode of extreme sexual stimulation
              for Miss Smithers.  My conclusion as to her level of arousal is
based on my direct observations of Miss Smithers, who was
              totally nude at all times in the previously stated period, and
displayed an elevated rate of respiration, flushed skin,
              dilated pupils, engorged lips, erect nipples, and made excited
utterances appropriate to a young female approaching
              climax."
 
Tami sat on the bed and snorted at the carefully worded statement.  No doubt it
would become part of her permanent record here at
Campbell-Frank.  She folded it up and put it back in the box, and placed the box
next to the retainer panties and bristle bra that had
lain untouched on her bedside table all weekend.  She would be getting back into
those soon, back into her whole routine, no doubt with
the occasional horrible surprise to attempt to break her before the end of the
semester.  She decided to focus on the positive.  She hadn't
made any obvious mistakes despite Ross' cunning efforts over the course of two
and a half days.  She would take some free time today to
go do a little research herself on mental health issues.  Maybe when she got
done Ross would have to revise his book to acknowledge
another type – Type Five, the one that got away…barely…