The Klinik Chapter Two

Chapter 2.

She helped gently assist him turn over, till he lay face up beneath her, his eyes unfocused and heavy lidded stared through her to some other place.

“…Closer to you now…Smell your perfume in the warm musty air…So hard…”
His cockstem slid smoothly between her black-gloss fingers as pale as ivory and just as unbendingly hard. The slow rhythm of her fingertips ate up minute after precious minute as she listened.
“ …Your fingers are pinching, squeezing each one in turn…Those breasts are so, so beautiful. Soft…round…all slippy with …”
Arran fell suddenly silent.
It allowed her conscious mind to surface from his, and now also her, vicarious fantasy. She checked her wristwatch, alarmed at the lack of focus which had stolen away the time so quickly.
“Please continue… Go on Arran.”
Sophie snapped off her latex gloves, tossing them on top of the medical trolley along with the spent tube of ’Retardexel’.
“I’m behind you… pressed up between your cheeks, sliding against you…feels hot, very wet…God! So soft and tight…slipping into…like liquid-velvet, a glove around me…”

She was part of it again, vivid and bright in her minds eye at the same synchronous moment her slender fingertips pressed through the opaque vee of saturated black gossamer between her thighs.
Sophie caught her breath, supporting herself with her free hand flat to his chest. She leaned across him, her lips grazing his ear, feeling his hardness nuzzle between the swaying weight of her breasts.
“ You have to…Mmmngh… leave now Arran…come away from that place, back to the Klinik…Back to me.”
A slight hesitation.
“…Yes Sophie, I understand.”

Sophie held herself quite still, letting waves of delicious pleasure concentrate to a single intense point beneath her slowly rotating index finger.
Below her motionless figure, and trapped delicately between the suspended weight of two tip pointed breasts, his febrile sex trembled and pulsed, lubricating the pliant and soft skinned shapes that caught it with thin, oozing milt.
She came then, at that precise moment, with every muscle in his body stretched taut with the effort of denying exactly what she was so greedily engaged in accepting.
Arran looked up into Sophie’s flushed features with sl**py eyed concern.
“ You alright Sophie?…Had the most wonderful dream…”


She straightened her lab coat, checking freshly brushed hair and make-up in the gilded mirror above his prostrate body.

It was exactly midnight, and right on cue she heard a light tapping sound. Barefoot, she crossed the shadowy open space from his bedside to the heavy oak door quickly and silently, carrying the vertiginous heels she’d worn up to this point, dangling from either hand.
Sophie Eval ushered the two hesitant young women in from the open doorway, and closed out the shaft of cold silvery moonlight.
“It’s ok, everything is set, but be quiet. Arran’s asl**p.”
She led Chloe by the hand in near darkness, Katja following stealthily behind, down a short flight of wide balustraded wooden steps to a lower section of his quarters, well away from Arran’s recumbent form.
Sophie motioned them to sit, joining the two women to complete the troika of conspirators once she had illuminated the scene by flickering candlelight.
She felt a momentary pang of undiluted envy.

“ A little bit theatrical isn’t it Sophie?” Giggled Katja in a barely suppressed stage whisper
Sophie took a second to reply, studying her co-conspirators.
The trio were illuminated in a discreet halo of shimmering amber light.
“ I thought the candlelight would be a nice touch…To help get you in the mood for a little wickedness, …but judging by the way you’re both dressed…”
She intoned her comment ‘soto voce‘, smiling broadly in turn at the mischievously grinning Katja, and shyly demure pout of a bashful Chloe, leaving the obvious unstated.

“…Where on earth did you manage to get them from?…You both look absolutely fantastic. Very sexy!”
Chloe spoke for the first time, eager to explain.
“ They arrived this afternoon along with an absolute mass of other lingerie and fetish wear ordered by Doktor Webber from ’Agent Provocateur’…They’re beautiful aren’t they?…Most of the consignment was destined for the Costume Section…I saved a few special pieces for our little adventure together …You really like them Sophie?”

“I love them!…Arran’s a lucky man.”

Together, Katja and Chloe might initially have been mistaken for extras involved in a production of ‘Swan Lake’, with their silk ballet pumps and flounces of transparent, ribbon trimmed gossamer around their waists reminiscent of tutus.
The similarity to a pair of ballerinas ended there however.
The ensemble was saved from outright sluttish ness with the addition of two narrow panels of lilac coloured silk covering the shape of each breast, with an even narrower strip of the same silken material stretched tightly beneath the faux tutu to intimately outline each of the ballet princesses patently denuded sex’s, so that collectively the thin strips of silk acted as bra and knickers, thus preserving the deception of modesty.


Sophie took one last lingering, and envious look at the bedside tableau. She‘d finished giving her briefing to Katja and Chloe a few minutes before, and now it was time to leave.
Beneath the brocaded d****ry, and in the same soft pool of light she had occupied, they stood like sentinels on either side of his insensate body. Silent and watchful. A praetorian guard for an empire of guilty pleasures, two beautiful creatures wreathed in virtually transparent soft-hued provocation.
Sophie pulled the door to, closing herself out of the scene with a soft click.


It was definitely a strange, but not unpleasant experience for Arran. The softly insistent voices that had called him up from the deep, warm void belonged to Katja and Chloe, Sophie told him they would visit, and that he was to listen in the same way he had listened to her. His eyes were open, but he still felt he were part of a dream, whether his, or someone elses he couldn’t quite be sure. Puzzling, but of no real consequence when the dream was this pleasant.

They knelt either side of him, arms entwined about each other, pressing themselves together in a long, slow, open-mouthed caress oblivious to Arran’s curious gaze and the returning vigour of his burgeoning sex. The ballet princess’s fingers sought out those soft curves and hollows of the other. The damp heat of denuded peach-like shapes lying tight beneath slivers of pale silk, and the softly yielding, stiff tipped weights above.
Once again his cockstem now lay fat and heavy against his belly, beginning to ache with that familiar sweet-dark pleasure almost as soon as it’d reached full, curving rigidity. It jutted incongruous and futile from beneath the arch Katja and Chloe’s two bodies had formed above it.
He felt relaxed and excited at the same time, so much a real part of everything that was happening he could feel the soft warmth, and smell the faint citrus fragrance of Chloe’s expensive Chanel perfume on her skin next to him, and yet in a way, not really there at all.
Arran made an effort to interact with this strange new world, remembering Katja’s whispered invitation at the conclusion of their one way conversation a little while earlier.
“…and don’t be shy Arran, you needn’t be totally passive. We’d love you to join in if you feel up to it…So long as you remember the rules, OK?”
The rules. He remembered those.The rules made him feel uncomfortable in a very unsettling way. It was a subject Arran thought would be best left alone.

He reached out with his hand easily enough, although it was more like working his limbs through a third party, and the third party only operated in slow motion.
Arran already knew that in some way his sensory faculties seemed enhanced, richer, somehow more than. The warmth and delicious smell of Katja and Chloe’s skin, the intense colours and perception of their stunningly beautiful forms, the melodic sweetness of their murmuring sounds resonating in the still air didn’t prepare him for the depth of sensual pleasure experienced in merely brushing his fingertips slowly upward from the crook of Chloe’s bent knee along her smoothly tapering thigh as far as the crease of skin beneath a tightly rounded cheek part covered by lilac folds of soft gossamer and pink ribbon.
His cockstem strained against deep roots, swelling perceptibly, adding to the now familiar sweetly-dark ache.
Chloe smiled down at him, flushed with her own excitement, pupils dilated to beautiful black pools.
“ That’s nice Arran…would you like to join in and play a little game with us now?”
Arran struggled to get the words out, as if he were speaking with a mouth full of treacle.
“ Mmm,…yes…yes please Chloe…”
In agonising slow motion he continued to stroke her smooth bare flesh, still amazed at the softly velvet texture beneath his fingertips.
She leaned over him, nuzzling her lips against his ear.
“It’s called ‘Chloe and Katja’s Guessing Game .’…So close your eyes for me Arran…It‘ll be your turn at guessing first…”


Katja used a length of pink ribbon from around her waist to improvise a makeshift blindfold, tieing it off in an extravagant bow before stepping back to join Chloe, hand-in hand, now standing at the foot of the huge four-poster.
They smiled conspiritorily to one another, sealing their pact with a lingering kiss. The game was about to begin.
Katja spoke.
“ Arran,… you’ll be asked to identify to which of us,…Chloe, or Katja… each thing you are going to be given to taste, touch ,or experience…belongs to, or by whom it is being done, ..If you guess correctly three times in a row you win,…and we pay a forfeit of your choosing. Simple isn’t it?… Ready to begin?”


Frau Doktor Ilse Webber‘s cobalt blue iris’s reflected the current focus of her attention, replicating the unfolding scene in miniature, her impassive features wreathed in the shifting electric flicker of several flat-screen CCTV monitors. Only a thin-lipped crease of a smile betrayed any outward sign of human emotion.
“ I knew it! “
The soft humming of so much computer controlled monitoring and surveillance technology crammed into the small space afforded to the Klinik’s central control room made her softly exhaled words almost inaudible even to herself.
She sat alone in near dark, a solitary female spider at the hub of an omnipresent web of electronic eavesdropping equipment illuminated only by the coldly neon bubble of radiated light.
“ I knew it.”
She checked the recording process was running smoothly. A crystal clear digital audio and visual record of incontrovertible evidence was being compiled and burned to disc, and would prove beyond doubt that both Katja Rijksonn and Sophie Eval, her most senior Nursing s****r and Technician, were clearly guilty of the most gross professional misconduct imaginable. But the single most shocking, and troubling fact that presented itself was that of Chloe Renis’s intimate involvement. Chloe alone could not be excluded or protected from any of the consequences of disciplinary actions that would normally be taken against Katja, or Sophie, and that was a serious problem. A problem of her own making.

After the premature demise of the late, Steve Dunsmore, (for whom she had risked everything in the pursuit of ultimate pleasure, she rued), the subsequent investigation of which she had been a part, indeed architect of, made no mention of her pivotal role in the tragic series of events that had led up to his untimely death. A cover-up that was designed and executed with Chloe’s help in order to save both her own reputation and that of the Klinik’s had been passed-off smoothly. Barely a ripple of bad publicity disturbed the media, or for that matter, her Students. The Police, Regulatory Authorities, and Sci-Tech Corporation were non the wiser as to the underlying reasons behind his death, and the unedited chain of events which had led up to it. Everybody concerned seemed satisfied with the unavoidable ‘freak accident‘ explanation that her investigation provided.

In light of this, Chloe Renis was all but untouchable, and by association, so were Sophie and Katja if her Personal Assistant were to intercede on their behalf, which knowing Chloe, as Ilse did, she most definitely would.
This particular little problem situation was one which required some carefull thought. Ilse Webber couldn’t allow the Staff and Students to ruin the work of her beloved Klinik by flouting even the most basic of rules. Strictly NO sexual fraternisation. It had been allowed to happen once, and had ended with tragic consequences, and that was her fault. She was absolutely determined not to let anything like that happen a second time.
There would be a solution, and she would find it, one way or the other it was a solvable problem.

She relaxed back into her swivel chair oblivious to the screens, lost deep in thought. The germ of an idea had taken root in that instant. It grew rapidly into the basis of a plan, and as it grew, a sinuous, almost pleasant smile appeared.
“ Mr Ashe is the key to be turned .”
Ilse Webber almost purred with the neat elegance and simplicity of it. The scheme would be relatively easy to execute given the resources at her disposal, and the outcome was certain. It would work.
She refocused her attention on screen 4.(A high angle, real-time relay of the scene unfolding on the bed below.)
The discreetly placed mounting of a single filament fibre optic camera between folds of brocaded swagging in the upper left-hand corner of Arran’s four-poster bed frame not only made the tiny device virtually undetectable, but afforded the watching Frau Doctor a pin-sharp image in 32-bit living colour of Chloe Renis’s darkly silken mop of damp and tousled hair moving in synchronous motion with that of her delicately shaped and weighted breasts.
She was certainly beautiful, and crucially for Frau Doktor Webber’s plan, naively eager for sexual adventure.
Supporting herself on trembling outstretched arms at right angles to Arran’s blindfolded recumbent male form, and above his sweat drenched slab of belly muscle she moved in slow-motion.
Open-mouthed, in an extremis of pleasure provided by the slow rhythm of Katja’s fingertips working her from behind, the glowing image of Frau Doktor Webber’s Personal Assistant attempted in vain to trap the tremulous swaying of Arran’s glistening-wet cockstem. The object of her frantic desire remaining always just tantalisingly out of reach below Chloe’s spittle flecked lips.
“ Carefull Chloe, every pleasure has its price,..And you and your friends are running up a hell of a tab.”
Frau Doktor Ilse Webber intoned quietly, and not without an edge of silky menace, smiled that sinuous, disconcerting smile.


Katja supported her girlfriend tenderly, holding her close in a protective embrace, allowing Chloe to recover slowly, pressing a cheek to the sweat dampened nape of her neck. Nuzzling. Gently caressing the hot skin.
She was so incredibly beautiful. So deliciously sweet.
It came as no real surprise then that the tinderbox of desire, so long suppressed within herself, ignited spontaneously, fired-up by the glowing embers of a sexually generated heat radiating from Chloe’s now sated body. It stoked a latently smouldering lust present from that moment they had originally conceived their plan and decided to act upon it rather than merely fantasise as they had done a hundred times previously.

“ That was Chloe..Chloe on her own, I’m right ..Yes?”
Arran’s slightly slurred, dreamy voice broke the spell.
“ Well done Arran.. One more correct and we have to forfeit..” Katja managed brightly.
“ ..This’ll be your last chance tonight though. Its way past our bedtime already, so it’s all or nothing! Ready?”

Katja’s fingers were still slippery-wet with the product of Chloe’s arousal as she carefully set herself between his outstretched legs. She knelt, facing him, hooking first one compliant thigh and then the other over each of her knees in turn. She motioned for a flushed but mostly recovered Chloe to sit alongside her. Katja mused that the precious liquid would make an ideal if relatively unusual medium through which to lubricate him.
She encouraged the now partially recovered and freshly inquisitive Chloe with a smile, gesturing her to study him in detail before she began.
Chloe was fascinated. Enchanted at the sight. Excited at new possibilities.
In Arran’s comfortably relaxed and supported position, she could see his tightly drawn opening, invitingly pink and vulnerable between tautly muscled cheeks, with the ridged curve of his perineum above it. His sac, soft and heavily laden, hung like ripe fruit. Whilst the cockstem pallidly tumescent, lay flat against his creased belly muscle like a blunt spear, with the slippage and saliva of previous encounters evaporating in the warm night air to form a clarified but sticky patina around the whole.
Chloe thought it incredibly, wonderfully, powerfully erotic.

Katja pressed a slippery fingertip against him, circling the tight pink bud.
Gently. Slowly. Softly. Waiting for that murmured surrender. A willing and eager acceptance was inevitable, it would come to fruition in the petal like flowering of anal muscle beneath her fingertip.
Like Eve’s forbidden fruit, the blossoming taste of dark pleasure would prove impossible for Arran to resist. Eventually they all succumbed to temptation, but the transient instant, that moment of surrender never failed to thrill and arouse her no matter how many times she experienced it.
“ Mmmmmnnughh…Mmmn.”
In that instant. That moment. She felt him relax.
“ Ooooooh, Mmmmn.”
Katja slid her finger into him.

Chloe slipped behind her teacher, resting her chin on Katja’s shoulder, breathing in the fresh warmth of scent lingering on her hair. Arms wrapped loosely around her tutors waist she stared intently, focused, fascinated and highly aroused at the things Katja did with him.
As the seconds stretched and rolled into long drawn-out minutes Chloe was in awe of Katja’s total control of another human being through pure sexual manipulation.
Her fingertips worked on him in a steady rhythm, first caressing, then pressing , sliding in, and so slowly out.
Never once did she resort to caressing the arching spear of his sex to maintain its rigid stiffness, and yet his cockstem reared pallid and curvingly erect, a wire-thin runnel of slippage continually oozing from the cockstem’s tip, an apt and uniquely fitting tribute to Katja’s efficacy.

Arran’s crisis came rather sooner than Chloe had expected, (especially given the amount of powerful pharmaceuticals active in his system that were specifically designed to retard and delay such an event). No doubt hastened by Katja’s remorseless but subtle provocation it came quite suddenly with few of the apparently detectable physical signs that she’d been tutored by Sophie and Katja to expect as a pre-cursor to uncontrolled male ejaculation.

Arran had murmured something unintelligible, prompting Katja to dextrously slip a loosely knotted strip of silk ribbon over his cockstem from those wrapped around her wrist.
His blunt spear of a sex swelled impossibly above the bite of knotted lilac.
Chloe felt the stiff points of her breast tighten even further in an empathic response to the sharp cinching of looped ribbon.
Chloe squirmed, pressing herself to Katja’s back, attempting to assuage the pregnant pleasure-pressure centred on painfully spike pointed breast tips. She kissed her teachers neck feverishly, unable to avert her eyes from him.
Unsurprisingly, for all she had witnessed so far, beneath the layers of transparent crumpled froth that had formerly resembled a ballet dancers tutu Chloe knew herself to be achingly wet.
That thin strip of saturated lilac silk, identical to the one that now cinched so cruelly tight around Arran’s cockstem. Designed to preserve an illusion of modesty, it now stuck to her denuded sex like a second skin, in equal parts providing both deliciously clingy pressure and a maddeningly subtle friction.
It did nothing to preserve her modesty.
She re-cupped Katja’s breasts, squeezing softly, luxuriating in their peach-soft pliancy beneath the thin and slippery silk.
She wanted emulate her teacher, to reverse the roles from pupil to mistress, and control Katja’s arousal, as she in turn controlled Arran’s.
To be Chloe the masturbatrix.
Unable to rest her eyes from Arran’s deliberately controlled and prolonged distress she cupped and re-cupped the soft-skinned weight in her fingers, squeezing them gently whilst his mistress, Katja, worked him.
Chloe acted on her newfound desires.

She slid a palm across the band of slippery material that constrained each of Katja’s stiff tipped breasts.
Chloe’s fingertips variously caressed the pair of spiked teats, first teasing, then pinching, caressing and soothing until those two twin shapes, pushing up through the band of thin lilac silk resembled thorn-sharp points.
She was gratified beyond measure to hear Katja’s soft murmurings of approval, encouraged and emboldened thus, Chloe suppressed her own burgeoning need, in favour of pleasuring Katja to a uniquely personal design.
She reached down, slipping her fingers between layers of crushed nylon froth to briefly caress the velvety smooth flesh of Katja’s cheek.
Chloe caressed the wetted silk.
Beneath her manicured fingertips it clung protectively to the sharply drawn ovularity of Katja’s bare-skinned sex. The strip of tightly drawn silk providing little defence against its forthcoming violation.

In dim stillness, at the centre of a cavernous but windowless lab deep within the Klinik‘s subterranean bowels, Frau Doktor Webber’s porcelain pale skin took on a ghastly green tinge from the unnatural luminescence of bio-conductive liquids that bubbled slowly through a dozen Deep Immersion Units as she nimbly worked a mainframe access console.
The Plexiglas canopies reflecting her icily beautiful features as a series of fairground grotesques, capering and flickering in the uncertain light like phantoms.
Oblivious to the macabre theatricality of her surroundings she worked on, focused entirely on the task at hand like some solitary convent s****r lost in the midst of her spiritual devotions.
The Frau Doktor relied not on divine providence for fulfilment of these particularly sinful wishes, hopes and dreams , but on top of the range, state of the art technology and good programming skills.
A string of code tapped onto the keyboard in a rapid staccato rhythm flashed briefly on screen. She loaded a data disc into an open drive slot and waited for it to spin into life, up to running speed before punching in a final ’run command’ with only the briefest of hesitations to test her conscience.
There was no way back. Not now. Not after this.


“Slap it…Hard.”
Goaded Chloe in a soft whisper.
She nibbled, caressed Katja’s earlobe, eyes fixed unswervingly on Arran’s cockstem.
The way a hunting tigress would fix on a stumbling antelope. Those dark pools, green flecked with emerald hardness studied him with a lustfully wicked intensity, devoid of pity.
“ Slap his cockstem until it stings.”
Lacquered with syrup-slick arousal, the full length of Chloe’s index finger flexed to a slow rhythm stoppered deep within Katja’s deliciously tight-lipped sex, its external peach-like shape, bare-skinned and slippery, fitted to the cupped warmth of her palm as the delicate white of a softly boiled egg would cling to its shell.
“Slap it.”

A cocoon of warm amber light held them at its centre, its aurora seeping out over pale rumpled bed linen, the brocaded swaging above, and timbered corner posts, so that the Vermeer like figures at its core appeared almost incandescent with a softly glowing inner vitality, isolated on an island of vibrant warmth and colour from the shadowy stillness about them.
Sharp reports of uncertain rhythm punctured the silence.
A wet tongue of sodden lilac silk, (folded and knotted to form an improvised switch), licked around the oiled bar of Arran’s glistening cockshaft.
“ Again,…Only once more though Katja, OK?”
Sightless, tense with expectation and dread he waited without utterance for a stinging response to her barely audible instruction, unable to deny the connection between those dreamlike waves of aching pleasure now radiating upward from a ribbon necked and unbearably rigid phallus, and those spikes of pain inflicted upon it in short whispering arcs and vicious snaps.
Arran released a low moan. His two fisted grip on bunched up handfuls of bed linen, white knuckled and desperate, relaxed slowly as his pleasure surged in the afterglow.
“ Good boy…Well done Arran, but we‘re not quite finished with you yet.”

With the oiled tip of one solitary finger Chloe unhurriedly circled Katja’s tiny anal opening. Smoothly applying a gently insistent pressure, waiting for the band of tight-pink muscle to relax, as she’d been shown with Arran only minutes before.
She was a naturally gifted student.
Teardrops of liquid gathered brim full and heavy on the lowest point of Katja’s sodden silk switch, now hanging limply at her side on lifeless arms. It dripped slowly, steadily, onto sweat soiled linen, an unheeded metronome measuring out the languorous arc of her back and the quiet murmurs of pleasure in response to Chloe’s delicate insinuation.
“Suck on him Katja…”
She held her former teacher on the cusp of bliss, rocking her gently forward on two deeply plugged fingers.
“Gently, gently…ever so gently now.”


Arran cursed the beep-beep-beep of the alarm clock, stretching out from beneath a rumpled pile of bedclothes with fumbling fingers to silence its annoying chirp. He regarded the flashing neon readout with one baleful eye and cursed again.
He hauled himself slowly out of bed in stages, discarding a shroud of tangled sheets, and still feeling half asl**p, trudged naked and dishevelled toward the bathroom.
It was 06.55 hrs on his first full day as a Klinik Student, and he’d had Four hours sl**p at most. Not a good start.
Stinging jets of hot water blasted away all remaining cobwebs of sl**py lethargy, reinvigorating his tired body and sluggish mind.
He let the powerful spray pummel him, jolting him back to sharp focused reality. Arran lathered himself up with a generous squirt of Klinik issue shower gel, relieved to wash away the accumulated evidence of his complicity in Sophie, Katja and Chloe’s night time activities.

He stepped out from the shower, wrapping himself in a huge bath towel, searching out toothbrush and toothpaste from a cabinet below the heavily misted mirror in front of him.
His limbs slipped into auto-pilot, brushing, rinsing, a gargle of mouthwash.
Arran’s memory idly sifted and filtered what coherent fragments he could remember of the girl’s late night visit. The hazy jigsaw of dreamlike recollections triggered a deep seated and powerful pavlovian reaction within him that was totally unexpected, way beyond his limited sexual experience, and needless to say, was completely unprepared for.
Arran’s previously limp sex stirred, twitching convulsively as it swelled with exhilarating rapidity, prompting within his now rigidly erect cockstem an almost instantaneous aching that was at once both frightening and deliciously addictive.

It was a full fifteen minutes before a rigidly straining sex that’d initially tented his issue Klinik shorts and robe as he hurriedly dressed, finally subsided back to it’s former flaccidity. It f***ed him, through the necessity of modesty, to pace impatiently about his accommodation for what seemed at the time, an eternity. He’d immediately pushed the erotically charged adventures of the previous evening to the furthest most recesses of his mind for the time being, and instead, had run through his memorised list of activities and training modules scheduled for the day as outlined in the Klinik syllabus, anxiously awaiting a swift return to softened normality.
He’d then hurried barefoot down a series of deserted corridors, clutching his security swipe card in one hand, floor plan and syllabus in the other, bathed in the uniform grey of snow-flecked morning light that dimly lit the way to his final destination. ‘Room 7c: Deep Immersion Unit Training Suite‘. He arrived breathless, after only a single wrong turn, on time. 07.30 hrs, Day 2.


“Good morning Arran, I hope you slept well.”
Frau Dr Webber greeted him cheerily.
“ I’ll be supervising this mornings session,.. I’m afraid Katja and Sophie were needed for a pharmaceutical audit our lords and masters at Klinik Industries decided to spring on us without notice..”
She smiled warmly, patting the seat next to hers.
“..Most inconvenient of them.”
Arran smiled unsteadily back. A cool chill ran from the soles of his bare feet on the polished stone floor, upward along his spine. He felt the fine hairs at the nape of his neck rise in response.
“ Oh, I see..”
Arran made his way over to a small cluster of dark leather and chrome upholstered seating in order to join her. It was obviously designed to serve as an intimate and informal briefing area. But, being to one side of the two cigar like Plexiglas canopies, and their associated medical paraphernalia, and away from what early morning light managed to filter through slatted blinds on the far side of the room, it seemed vaguely claustrophobic. An impression not helped by a halo of pale green wavering iridescence radiating from the liquid filling each Deep Immersion Unit. It seeped into the fabric of the place. It made the Frau Doktor’s normally fresh-scrubbed complexion, and icily beautiful features appear disturbingly wraith like. Pale, sickly and starved of sunlight like the beautiful but deadly vampires of legend.
Arran seated himself as directed.
“I’ve asked Chloe to assist,. .I hoped you wouldn’t mind too much, what with the unforeseen Staff shortage, and urgency with which we need to move your Training Program along. Arran?”
Arran shifted uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to suppress any outward sign of panic with a display of considered nonchalance.
“ No,.. no problem. ..Chloe’s your Personal Assistant, the nice French lady who helped show me around yesterday, right?.. Frau Doktor?”
Frau Doktor Ilse Webber smiled serenely.
“Yes, that’s right. ..You’ve met her before.”
A light knock at the door interrupted the steady gaze of her cobalt blue eyes into his. He was sure she would have read the lie his lips had uttered as surely as if the truth were written in large capitals across his forehead had it not been for Chloe’s fortuitous entrance at that exact moment.
“ Sorry I’m late Frau Doktor,.. “

Apologies accepted, Chloe busied herself with the arcane process of booting a multitude of computers and data links. The Frau Doktor talked with Arran in hushed tones whilst she prepared all the other various pieces of ancillary medical equipment as quickly as the manual she‘d hurriedly borrowed from Sophie allowed. After slipping a white medical coat over her smartly tailored suit she tried to compose herself before joining the two of them.
The Frau Doktor’s briefing was evidently drawing to a close as she approached. Arran leant back in his seat avoiding eye contact with her. His body language though spoke volumes.
“ All systems are up and running Frau Doktor.”
Arran was tense. Nervous. He fiddled absent mindedly with the cotton belt cinched around his waist, then at the short gowns hem, worrying threads of material like prayer beads. Head down, intent on the mindless task.
“Excellent Chloe…”
Ilse Webber turned in her seat to face Chloe.
“ Sorry to ask you at such short notice to set the ‘DIU,s’ up for me,.. I know it’s been a while since you did the training, …and it’s not your job. I really appreciate it…Thank you!”
Chloe consciously tried to inflect a degree of lightness in her voice. It didn’t sound quite as authentic as she’d hoped, but she did began to relax. Coincidences happen. The Frau Doktor couldn’t possibly know anything of her liaison with Arran, or for that matter, the transgressions of her co-conspirators Katja and Sophie.
“My pleasure Frau Doktor. Everything is ready for Arran’s immersion prep if the briefing is finished.”
Ilse Webber turned to Arran.
“ Ready to begin Arran?”


Chloe watched from behind a low bank of monitors, screens glowing blankly as the Frau Doktor helped fit both obsidian like contact lenses, then breathing mask to his face before assisting him into the now drained and tilted Plexiglas ‘Deep Immersion Unit’. She guided him, feet first, until he lay flat upon the contoured bed. She fitted his limp circumcised sex and depilated sac to a stretchy, blue gel like harness before drawing a vial of ‘Retardexel’ into a chrome and glass gun. Arms by his side, immobile and impassive, she emptied the chromed instruments contents into his upper thigh as the curved insect-wing like canopy closed upon him with a hiss and a click.
Chloe heard the hydraulic pumps and motors of the ‘Deep Immersion Unit’ kick in as the banks of monitors she sheltered behind, flickered into life. Streams of live data accompanied and tracked the tilting Plexiglas sarcophagus as it drew level. Horizontal. Filling with luminous green fluid until Arran resembled nothing more than a specimen floating gently in a rather big jar.
Ilse Webber joined her at the control station, stripping off and discarding a pair of latex surgeon’s gloves into a medical waste bin.
“ Ok Chloe,.. He’s under. Run program.”


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