Advanced Biology Lab
by Linda Loring (address withheld)

***

A jealous female lab technician gets even with a female 
colleague by manipulation. (F/machine, nc, forced orgasm, 
voy, spank)

***

I work as a technician in a health research laboratory. 
We end up handling some pretty scary stuff. A lot of 
the work we do has to do with AIDS, and we also have 
some defense contracts involving research into ways of 
counteracting biological warfare. All in all, we work 
with a good many substances no human should come in 
contact with, or even take a chance on breathing.

Substances like that are handled in a special section 
of the laboratory. No one is allowed in the room when 
it's in use. Sealed containers are passed in through a 
sort of miniature air-lock, and once the inner door of 
the lock is opened, the containers are opened and the 
contents moved around using special mechanical arms.

The mechanical arms are manipulated from a control 
room. From the control room you can see into the lab 
through thick, airtight windows. You can't see into the 
control room from the lab, ordinarily, because the 
laboratory area is brightly lit while the control room 
is fairly dim.

The whole set-up is amazingly high-tech. The eight 
mechanical arms can reach anywhere in the lab, and 
their "hands", each with a "thumb" and two "fingers", 
have tremendous strength but are also capable of 
precise movement, even in microscopic dimensions. 

Normally we manipulate the arms and their hands by 
putting our own hands into special glove-like fixtures 
and moving our own fingers the way we want their 
mechanical counterparts to move. Larger or smaller 
movements require separate controls, and a whole 
sequence of movements can be programmed into the 
computer, which then controls all movements. We can 
interrupt the computer's control if something 
unexpected happens, reposition things manually, and 
tell the computer to pick up right where it left off.

There are six videotape cameras in the lab, and they 
can be directed to cover any part of the room from 
almost any angle. The special video recorders are in 
the control room, and when we need to make a 
presentation to someone outside the lab, signals from 
those recorders can be fed into a standard VCR and 
recorded in full color onto regular videotape.

All of this equipment is, as I said, normally used to 
work with deadly viruses and other toxins. But, as I 
recently discovered, it can be put to other uses as 
well.

The discovery took place late last Saturday night. I'd 
been working on an experiment using several laboratory 
rats. It wasn't my job to give them food and water, but 
the weekend staff sometimes "forgets" to take care of 
the animals in the contagion room. My rats were already 
pretty weak, and if they went all weekend without food 
and water, they'd probably be dead by Monday morning, 
and I'd have to start the experiment over from the 
beginning.

I'd fretted about the rats all day, and finally, after 
coming out of a late movie a little before midnight, I 
decided to go over to the lab and check on them myself. 
I pulled into the parking lot behind the lab, noticing 
absently that there was another car parked down at the 
end of the dark lot. I did a double take when I 
recognized the car - it was one of those little Mazda 
two-seater jobs, and it belonged Kristin, a/k/a the 
"ice queen".

Kristin was the newest of the research biologists, 
having come to work at the lab only two months earlier. 
She was a real whiz with the computer system that 
controlled the mechanical arms in the contagion room, 
but that wasn't the attribute she was best known for. 
The severe clothes she wore couldn't hide the fact that 
she was really stacked, and I had to admit that her 
pale blonde hair and her face weren't bad either. 

All of us females in the lab, researchers and 
technicians alike, were jealous of the way the men had 
drooled over her at first, but from what I'd heard, 
none of them had been able to get to first base with 
her. That was why some of them had begun referring to 
her as the "ice queen".

Usually when one of the women's cars stayed in the lot 
all night one could infer that she was spending the 
night elsewhere, after a successful date with one of 
the men who worked in the lab. That seemed unlikely, 
from what I knew of Kristin's reputation, but I decided 
that her personal life wasn't any of my business 
anyway, and went inside.

The outer door of the building used a regular key, and 
then I had to use first another key and then a 
specially coded magnetic card to get into the secure 
area of the lab. By the time I'd made it through the 
last door I was aware that the lights were on in the 
contagion room. That didn't surprise me a lot, because 
the weekend staff was often careless about the lights, 
too. Still, I was curious enough to slip into the 
darkened control room in order to see, without being 
seen, whether someone was in the C-Room, as we called 
it.

Someone was there, all right, and the sight just about 
blew my mind! Kristin lay on her back on one of the 
work counters, totally nude, her clothing in a pile on 
the floor. That would have been astounding enough, but 
what made the scene really incredible was that the 
"fingers" on one of the mechanical arms were fondling 
one of her breasts while those on a second arm were 
busy amidst the pale hair between her legs! Incredulous 
at what I was seeing, I sat down to watch.

The computer beside me was on and the screen indicated 
that it was in the "engaged" mode, which meant it was 
controlling the mechanical devices in the C-Room. 
Kristin had obviously done a little extra-curricular 
programming, and from what I could tell she seemed to 
have done a very good job! 

I couldn't hear anything from the next room, but 
Kristin's head and body were in constant motion as the 
mechanical digits caressed first one breast and then 
the other, pulled gently at her engorged nipples, and 
glided easily in and out of the dark slit that was only 
half-hidden by her silky pubic hair.

I stood up quietly and slipped a blank tape into the 
VCR. I didn't know what I might do with the tape, but 
the way my own juices were starting to flow, I 
suspected that I was going to want to watch this scene 
again - in living color, no less! It was while I was 
loading the tape that I noticed a third mechanical arm. 
It was motionless now, but Kristin plainly didn't 
expect it to remain so, because its padded fingers were 
clamped around the base of the largest dildo I'd ever 
seen!

For some reason the sight of that dildo really pissed 
me off. I can't explain exactly why it bothered me so 
much, but here was a woman with the most perfect body 
I'd ever seen, or even imagined, who could have any man 
she even looked at. But instead of taking any of the 
offers she'd had, she'd constructed her perfect 
mechanical lover, and now she was waiting for it to 
fuck her! 

If she were really ugly, maybe I could accept what she 
was doing. For Kristin to do that though, seemed like a 
gesture of contempt for the rest of us, who had to 
settle for mortal lovers and their fragile egos, their 
clumsy foreplay, their sweaty bodies and their 
ordinary-sized cocks that so often had to be coaxed 
laboriously to life.

Without any definite plan in mind, I switched on the 
video monitor in the control room, so I could see and 
hear what was being recorded on the video tape, and 
disengaged the computer. Kristin looked surprised as 
the magic fingers stopped their kneading and probing, 
and then astonished as the hand that had been toying 
with her pussy moved up to her waist.

Astonishment gave way to alarm as I used the arm to 
roll her onto her stomach. She began to struggle, 
making incoherent sounds, but I pushed two of the 
mechanical hands into the small of her back to hold her 
in place on the flat counter. I hadn't decided what to 
do next, but the sight of her perfect ass, wiggling as 
she tried vainly to get her knees under her, gave me an 
idea.

I spread the arms slightly and opened their fingers to 
grip Kristin firmly on either side of her narrow waist. 
With their immense strength the mechanical arms had no 
trouble lifting her off the counter. I swung her into 
the middle of the room, where she hung suspended by her 
middle about five feet off the floor, head down, boobs 
jutting, legs kicking and arms flailing helplessly. 
"Stop it", she yelled, "whoever you are! Put me down, 
now!"

I offered no response as my eyes searched the C-Room 
for a suitable object. I found a perfect one on another 
work counter - a 50-centimeter scale. It was like a 
ruler except that it was made out of thick, clear 
plastic, twenty inches long, two inches wide and about 
a quarter of an inch thick.

I activated the third arm - the one holding the dildo - 
and Kristin, looking upside down between her legs, must 
have seen it move, because she started screaming and 
kicking wildly. "No! Don't you dare touch me with 
that!", she shrieked. She relaxed a little when she 
realized the arm was moving past her. I fully intended 
to make use of the dildo, but not just yet.

Opening the mechanical fingers, I dropped the dildo on 
the counter and picked up the plastic scale. It took a 
little maneuvering to get the hand to hold the scale 
properly, clutching it near the end and locking the 
fingers so that a minor flick of the mechanical "wrist" 
imparted considerable speed and momentum to the heavy 
scale. Then I moved the arm into position behind and 
slightly to the side of Kristin's creamy white ass.

All I knew about spanking I'd learned as a child, bent 
over the edge of the kitchen table while my mother 
applied a yardstick to the seat of my jeans or, on a 
few occasions, to my bared bottom. That had taught me 
that spankings were both painful and humiliating, and 
those were precisely the sensations I wanted the ice 
queen to experience.

I gave the mechanical wrist an experimental flick, and 
was rewarded with a sharp yelp of pain through the 
control room speaker. The plastic scale had landed on 
the left cheek of Kristin's ass, but it hadn't bounced 
away as I thought it would have if I'd been holding the 
scale in my own hand. I tried a lighter touch, but it 
was evidently too light, because Kristin didn't make a 
sound.

In a matter of minutes, though, I became quite adept, 
if I say so myself. Each swing of the makeshift paddle 
resulted in a satisfying yell from Kristin and left 
another pink blotch on the silky skin of her bottom. I 
picked up the tempo as I became more confident, and let 
the scale wander over the backs of her thighs as well 
as her ass. In almost no time the ice queen was sobbing 
and begging for the paddling to stop. She hadn't been 
spanked as a child, I guessed, or she'd have more 
endurance.

I responded to her pleas with a blistering flurry of 
smacks that really covered the target area and had 
Kristin kicking and screaming. Any effort she might 
have made earlier to keep her legs closed was 
abandoned, and the video camera had perfect view of her 
wet beaver - though it couldn't have been as wet as 
mine was!

Then I moved the arm over to the other work surface and 
laid the scale carefully on the edge of the counter. I 
picked up the gross-looking dildo and began moving the 
arm back toward Kristin. She saw it coming and began 
shrieking in protest again.

I decided that I enjoyed being the spanker instead of 
the spankee enough that I could let Kristin decide when 
she preferred the dildo to the paddle. I dropped the 
dildo, picked up the plastic scale, and resumed my 
attack on that perfectly shaped ass.

By that time I was becoming a real virtuoso, and the 
feeling between my legs was leading me to think that I 
should take up bare-bottom spanking as a serious hobby, 
if not a full-time profession. Kristin yelled and 
begged as I peppered her immobilized butt and flailing 
thighs with dozens of stinging blows.

Once her ass and the backs of her thighs had turned a 
nearly uniform shade of crimson, I stopped the spanking 
and exchanged the scale for the dildo again. Again 
Kristin protested when she the saw the mechanical 
fingers grasp the plastic cock, but when I put it down 
and moved toward the scale, she quickly said "No, no 
more of that, don't hit me any more!" She said nothing 
as I moved the dildo slowly toward her.

The camera had a clear view of Kristin's pussy but I 
didn't, so I halted the arm carrying the dildo a couple 
of feet away from her, and used the other robot arms to 
turn her until she was facing almost directly away from 
me. Then I had to move the camera so that it had 
essentially the same view I did, and zoomed it to 
provide a close-up shot.

I wondered suddenly, as I swung the third arm around 
and thrust the flesh-colored dildo toward Kristin's 
glistening cuntlips, if this was how a man felt as he 
prepared to shove his dick into a woman's waiting 
pussy. Too bad, I thought, that the mechanical 
appendages had no nerves; it would have been a blast to 
feel what a man feels at the moment of entry.

Kristin groaned as I touched the tip of the dildo 
against the outer lips of her pussy. I increased the 
pressure, watching in fascination as her clitoris 
flattened and her lips spread to surround the enormous 
phallus. I pushed harder, and Kristin gave a sharp cry 
as two inches of the ribbed dildo sank out of sight. 

By that time, I was sure, the latex-covered plastic was 
well into her vagina, and I must have the angle about 
right or she'd be screaming her head off. My own pussy 
convulsed with envy as I gave the control a shove and 
buried another seven inches of artificial cock in the 
ice queen. The moan that came through the speaker 
didn't sound much like pain.

I pulled the dildo back several inches and pushed it in 
again. The movement required almost no effort, and I 
marveled at how quickly Kristin had adapted to an 
object of that size. I started stroking in and out, 
wishing again that the dildo had nerves and could 
somehow transmit to me the sensations it was feeling. I 
wondered if any man had ever been inside the ice queen 
to feel those sensations.

That thought resurrected some of my earlier anger, and 
I decided that I'd be damned if I was going to stand 
there fucking some woman who thought she was too good 
to get screwed by a flesh and blood man - especially 
when I had a nice vibrator at home that I'd been 
neglecting lately. 

I stopped thrusting with the dildo, which provoked 
little whimpers from my colleague in the next room, and 
quickly programmed the computer to continue with a 
four-inch back-and-forth stroke, along the same axis, 
for another fifteen minutes, then to withdraw the third 
arm, lower the other two near the floor, and separate 
them.

Fifteen minutes would be plenty of time for the ice 
queen to get her rocks off a time or ten, and then to 
start imagining the scene the next morning when the 
weekend crew came in and found her suspended naked and 
being humped continuously by computer-controlled device 
that only she knew how to program. It would also give 
me plenty of time to get out of the building and 
several miles away before a much-relieved biologist 
could start trying to identify her unknown tormentor.

I let the VCR record the first gasps of ecstasy, then 
popped the tape out and slipped it into my purse. I 
left the recorder on, so Kristin would know she'd been 
on candid camera, and hurried out to my car. I could 
check on my mice the next day.

Kristin cleaned up well; there was no sign of her 
nighttime adventure when I went by the lab about noon 
the next day, although I did notice that the plastic 
scale was nowhere to be found. My mice had been fed and 
watered, and were doing as well as could be expected, 
considering the stuff I'd injected into them.

The first item on the agenda at our staff meeting on 
Monday morning was an announcement that Kristin had 
resigned. No one knew just why, but the director wished 
her well, in absentia, in whatever her new endeavors 
might be. And I've decided to learn everything there is 
to know about programming the computer that controls 
the mechanical arms in the C-Room. The vibrator was 
comforting, but I've thought of some experiments I 
might like to conduct here on my own, late some 
Saturday night.

END