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Her slender fingers hovered above the Enter key, wanting to do it and not at the same time. Despite the air-con, a bead of sweat made itself known beneath her plain blouse. The feelings never changed, no matter how many times she'd run the experiment. Racing pulse. Fluttering heart. The line between excitement and fear undefined. There was always the chance the parameters were wrong. Again. Another few hundred thousand wasted. Another thinly disguised threat from her boss about the department "running on results". Another reason to question whether the pursuit was really worth the personal sacrifices.

Peeking from the cuff of her anti-static lab coat, her hand looked ethereal in the diffused overhead lighting. No jewellery. Even if it hadn't been department policy, she had none to wear, and they didn't give out rings for being married to the job for three years.

She caught her reflection in the glossy surface of the laptop's screen, tangle of charcoal hair swept back and bunched to disguise the fact it became more unmanageable by the day. Perhaps off-brand conditioner had been a mistake. Brushing a cheek that seemed a fraction less full than it had a few months ago, she wondered if she was going to spend another night poring over the data until she fell asleep on the keyboard. Anton had once dubbed her QwertyFace. Annoyingly, the name had stuck within the department.

Data points in tiny boxes flickered in the upper-left quadrant of the glowing screen, more zeros than a corporate quote for a government project. A narrow parabolic graph was drawn alongside. She squinted at it, sure it was right. It looked right. Didn't it?

She blinked, a wave of doubt rushing in, making her cold. All of a sudden it didn't seem to resemble a graph at all. The way the narrow curve swept up and over, its tip cut by the x- and y-axes, was almost… phallic. Without invitation, and for about the twentieth time that day, her mind flashed back to the night before with Anton. Her one and only workplace indiscretion, despite the self-assurance never to mix business with pleasure.

To a degree, it was flattering that he liked her, but she hadn't encouraged anything. At least, not knowingly. He wasn't her type. Charming for sure, yet overconfident with a Mockney drawl indicative of too long spent in the capital. More like a stockbroker than a scientist, all pastel shirts with white collars, top button undone.

She figured their banter was harmless, the fact he was married and had teenage kids a strong deterrent. But caught up in the elation of her first major breakthrough in months had led to high-fives, linking arms, dancing around the lab, smiling, laughing, bodies close, then closer, his musky scent drawing her to him until their mouths were a few inches apart, held by an invisible force akin to the magnetic fields she was trying to bend in her experiments.

The distance closed. Meeting. Touching. Hesitantly at first, then firmer. A full kiss. Tongues. Before she could stop herself, it became serious and heated. Then it was too late. The taste of his lips took over, warm hands raising her laughably sensible skirt and claiming her body, before lab equipment that cost thousands was irresponsibly shoved aside on the brushed aluminium bench. She let him lift her onto its cool surface as if she were a whisper.

She warmed at the recollection of the way he buried his face in her tender neck, five o'clock shadow and kisses igniting her passion as she tipped her head back to give him greater access. There was something exhilarating about his forwardness; letting him paw and pinch her firming nipples, trail down her waist, yank her panties aside and touch her, as she moistened by the minute. It had been so long. Maybe that was the allure? The unexpected opportunity that she knew should stop, but didn't want to.

Then there was the manner in which he directed her to unzip him, both of them looking down, mesmerised as she released his sizeable staff and ran her fingers over the steely tip that resembled the graph. The confidence he exuded, bordering on arrogance, was something at which she hadn't expected to respond. But it was there, tugging at her frayed middle-class values and shredding them as she wet her palm and stroked his shaft. Adultery hadn't even registered. Nor had his age. For reasons she still couldn't explain, she wanted so much to please him, staring into his appreciative coffee irises before the need for his cock inside her welled, and she guided it to her entrance that lay open and inviting at the bench edge.

It was intense. Ragged. Unstructured. Everything she wasn’t. The way he took her completely, almost without regard, was thrilling. Repetitive and hard, her body aching for more and amping each electric sensation as he hammered and she ground against him, arms locked around his neck. Fucking like she'd been uncaged, his hands clutching at her flushed body. She was unaware at what point her lab coat and blouse had been yanked apart for access to her porcelain skin, small breasts heaving atop the functional lemon bra.

Suppressed want flowed with every thrust, with every touch, neither of them able to get enough until the inevitable climax took hold as his fingers pinched and twisted her rigid nipples, somehow knowing exactly what turned her on. The orgasm paralysed her for a short while, rippling through the depths of her body until it surfaced, crossing her skin like a desert sidewinder, triggering his completion too. Filling her.

It had been impulsive. Reckless. Seemed so right at the time. Now less so, like the graph, but nothing she yet regretted. Maybe regret came later. If anything, the encounter had unleashed something that she'd thought long since dormant, the blinkers torn from her along with the buttons of her blouse. She'd felt it all day, fizzing beneath her skin. The remnants of the orgasm. Of lust rekindled. The realisation she wasn't a lost cause, destined to play out her days slave to the lab; that she was attractive. A woman. Flesh, blood, needs, desires. Oh desires, reawakened.

Her body and mind craved more. Wanted to feel that exhilaration again, that loss of control at taking a risk and not caring about anything but the moment. She'd almost forgotten what it was like. Been rational for far too long among the comfort of the numbers and theories, as London life continued outside without her.

Shaking her head a fraction to clear the thoughts and sexual flotsam drifting through her body, she tried to focus. Equations lined the lower half of the display. Symbols. Numbers. Calculations that she'd spent the day tweaking, hazel eyes now nervously flitting from one to the next. Checking. Running through the sequence. One last verification.

The nagging doubt that this run would be any different from the last, bubbled beneath the blood she swore was hissing through her veins. It mixed with the excitement that this could be it; could be the one. Nobel prize in Physics at twenty-four. The youngest woman to receive such an award. Her acceptance speech would have to be gracious of course, to strengthen the admiration exuding from half the audience. Deep down, the other half would probably be desperate to stick pins in voodoo effigies of her at beating them to the discovery. But that was the cutthroat nature of science. Nothing she could do about it.

She imagined the podium. The eager faces stacked in neat rows ahead of her. Pictured her opening words. 'Standing on the shoulders of giants' was too cliché, even if it was true. She needed a new phrase. One they'd remember. One they'd…

"Karen!" She jolted as the voice barked from the tinny laptop speakers. His accent was clipped. "You gonna do this, or do I have to sit here and twiddle my dick all day?"

Straightening and tabbing to the Facetime window, she saw Brett grinning at her, his shock of jet-black hair barely above his eyes, visage slightly pixelated from its digital journey halfway round the world. With his geek slogan T-shirt, he more resembled a boy band member than a brilliant, if rather unorthodox, scientist. Karen swept back a few stray dark strands that had escaped her bun and tucked them behind her ear, flashing him a smile.

"Sorry, Britt. Just checking parameters. You'll get to your Cheetos and video games in good time," she teased.

"Cheetos or not, this Kiwi'd kick your pretty Pommie ass. Counterstrike. You and me."

"Too macho."

"Bet you love a bit of it. The quiet ones always do, right?" He winked.

She felt herself colouring. Had he talked with Anton already? God, how embarrassing. If not, why was she the go-to girl all of a sudden? She wracked her brain. Maybe Brett was always this obvious and she'd been too blind to notice until her intuition had been rebooted last night? Granted, there weren't many women in the company, and fewer in the labs. Was her recent success an attractant, or was it something else? She checked the laptop reflection once more to confirm 'available and desperate' weren't tattooed on her forehead.

Maybe there were other signals that had been stirred by the events of the previous evening? Subliminal ones, like her aura broadcasting that she needed to get out and live a little. Did men pick up on stuff like that? She honestly didn't know. Couldn't remember the last time she'd let her hair down, hit a club, got wankered and ended up sharing coffee and awkward silences the morning after. Uni, probably.

The lack of excesses might be a good thing; more undamaged brain cells for science. But what if increased levels of sex-infused serotonin boosted her ability to make further breakthroughs? What if today's experiment worked? Would it be attributable to her liaison with Anton? Would she have succeeded sooner if she'd been more relaxed? Would more sex be a worthwhile pursuit, in the name of science? She stared at Brett. Pictured his body gliding against hers. Holding her close. His scent. His kiss. If only he wasn't half a planet away.

She cleared her throat. "Shall I do this then?"

"Does a bear shit in the Vatican?"

Karen smiled. "You ready?"

Brett glanced to one side a moment then returned to set his piercing green eyes dead centre of the webcam. "You bet. Cameras rolling?"

Karen looked back at the tripod, its payload pointing at a blank segment of smooth white wall to the left of the bench, equipment still bunched to one side after… well, last night. She rummaged for the remote and hit a button, ensuring the red light was blinking before clearing her throat again. "Gravity warp, attempt fifty-two. It's-" she checked her watch and reeled off the time and date like Captain's log, then winked back at Brett and smiled. Unable to resist another dig, she continued: "At this band meeting are Karen Porterhouse: prisent and Britt Jackson…"

Brett sighed. "Present."

Karen grinned. "Okay. Let's whip up a storm."

She stabbed the Enter key. Heard the familiar whine as the electromagnets charged like oversize flashguns. Her stomach knotted and she focused on the space where the camera and the ion cannons were trained. Watching. Waiting for the ions to separate. She flicked her gaze to the laptop readout, noting the numbers racing up: 15T, 20T, 25T, 28T, 30T, slowing as they reached her pre-calculated maximum, close to the largest continuous field ever created on Earth. The digits slowed further, then stabilised and she read them out, all factual:

"Thirty-two-point-four Teslas of induction." She gritted her teeth, adding, "Come on. Come ooon."

The space in front of the wall shimmered as gravity broke down and reformed under the immense strain of the magnets and cannons. She'd seen it before in various distorted shapes, but it had never formed a perfect halo. Until now. A disc about the size of a bread plate was suspended a foot or so from the wall. Impossibly dark in the centre as light scrambled to get out and failed.

She pushed back a pace from the bench and stood straight, mouth agape, staring at the portal. "Uhhh, Brett? You getting this?"

He was silent.

"Brett?"

"Loud and fuckin' clear. It's incredible." He went quiet another moment. "It's in the wrong spot, but it's… beautiful."

"How far off?"

He paused. "Half a metre to the left maybe."

She did a quick calculation in her head. "I can fix that. Close enough for now."

Karen stared some more, still barely able to comprehend she'd done it. Eight months of hard theory, harder maths and failed practice culminating in one of the most important discoveries of the century. The excitement flooded her system and she had to steady herself against the bench.

Brett's voice filtered into her conscience. "How long will it stay open?"

"In theory, indefinitely."

"In practice?"

"No idea. As long as the national grid can continue supplying us power, I guess."

"Wouldn't want the electricity bill."

"Me neither. I'd better call Anton."

"Why, is he paying?"

Karen laughed. "No."

"Fuck him, then. Let's test it before it collapses."

"But he needs to see this. Validate the findings this end. You know how it works. It'll just take a minute."

She picked up her phone, put the PIN in wrong twice then prodded and swiped impatiently at the device before holding it to her ear, tapping her foot on the non-slip linoleum and chewing her nail, staring at her creation. He answered on the fifth ring. A little smug, she thought:

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Anton. Get here now."

He breathed out, long. "Who ate your manners? It's gone eleven. Cindy'll be pissed off."

"Anton," she said firmly. "You're going to want to see this."

She couldn't say anything more detailed over insecure channels. Heard nothing but his breathing for a few seconds as he processed the weight of her words. "Wait… you didn't… you did? Jesus, I'll be right there."

The line went dead and Karen let the handset slide to the desk as she watched the circle shimmering in the air. "He's on his way."

"Can we test it then? I'm dying to find out if it works."

Karen slowly nodded her head. "Okay. Throw something at it. Nothing metal," she reminded him.

The laptop speaker rustled as she heard Brett ferreting around in his lab. "How about a tennis ball?"

"How come you have a tennis ball in the lab?"

"Emergencies."

"What kind of an emergency requires a tennis ball?"

"This one, dummy. You ready?"

She moved in line with the halo. "As I'll ever be."

Karen focused on it and held her breath as Brett counted down in the distance. He reached zero. She waited. The ball arced into the room and bounced twice before rolling towards her, and she let out a shrill cry. "Oh my God, it works. It actually fucking works!"

She bent to pick up the ball. Squished it. The structure was intact. She broke out into a grin. "This is amazing!"

"Throw something back. Come on, this is fun."

Karen scanned the untidy lab, eyes coming to rest on her rucksack containing her forgotten lunch. She grabbed an apple from the bag. "Ready?"

"Hit it."

She tossed the apple underarm towards the hole and marvelled as it disappeared. No flash of light. No Stargate special effects. Just vanished. She checked the area behind to be sure. Stepping across to the laptop, she saw Brett holding the fruit up jubilantly. He took a bite. "Mmmm, delicious." He finished his mouthful. "Hey, you just contravened a whole shitload of biosecurity laws in this country. How does it feel to be the most amazing woman on the planet and a criminal?"

She chuckled and glanced at the floor. "Wasn't me. You imported it."

"A technicality." He took another bite and looked at her, eyes sparkling. But there was a hint of something in his voice. "Don't want to rain on this spectacular parade, but you know that governments are going to fuck this up don't you?"

She sighed. "You mean humanity?"

"Nah, the power elite. Think about it. A world truly without borders. Pop one of these… what the hell are we gonna call it? Doesn't matter… pop up a wormhole and be able to pass anything from country to country undetected."

Karen surveyed the equipment. Coils. Accelerators. Probes. Wires. "Undetected? It's hardly inconspicuous."

"Well, y'know. Just sayin'."

Karen rubbed her temple. "I think we're okay for a while. I doubt it'll transmit metal until we figure out shielding. SkyNet's a way off yet."

Brett nodded, chewing. She could almost see his brain working. Knew what he was thinking even before he said it: "Wanna take it to the next level?"

"No fear. You first!"

"Nah, ladies first, right? Chivalrous to the core, me." He gave her a lopsided grin, indicating the almost spent apple core. "Besides, it's your baby."

She rolled her eyes and he finished the fruit, tossing the uneaten centre off-camera.

Reaching for her right cuff, she peeled the sleeve up past her elbow. Stared at her arm, wondering if she had the mettle to seriously become the first person in history to send part of their body through a wormhole. A rift. A gravitational anomaly she'd conjured. Her hand shook. "Okay. Make sure the camera gets this."

"Just a sec." She heard Brett rustling the other side of the world. "Okay. Ready. No, wait."

"What now?!"

"Is anybody gonna believe this? I mean, people'll think it's camera tricks. CGI, movie stuff."

"Probably. But we'll know. That's what's important. And Anton'll validate it."

"True dat."

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Karen took the remaining few steps towards the hole. The hum was much louder, and nerves tattered her insides, excitement and fear colliding once more. Her heart must have been doing double time. With deliberate slowness, she crouched and reached towards the portal, fingertips inching towards the inky centre. What would it feel like? Would she feel anything at all? Would there be a delay or instantaneous delivery?

Five centimetres separated her from either the greatest experiment on Earth or a lifetime without her fingers. She changed her mind. Pulled her hand back and regarded each digit in turn. Which one was expendable? The pinkie, maybe? Yeah, the pinkie. She extended it, burned the image into her mind just in case it was the last time she saw it, and stretched her arm out again, creeping it forward.

Four centimetres.

Three.

Two.

She felt the pull of the field, maybe the ions exerting pressure on the trace elements of metal in her body. Cadmium. Copper. Zinc. Iron. Fractions of fractions of a percent, but still there.

One centimetre.

She held her breath, drawing level with the plane of the disc and touched it. Met no resistance. No pain. Drew her finger back. It was still there. Intact. Emboldened, she pressed it through to the first knuckle. Then the second. She heard Brett squeal:

"Holy crap!"

She wiggled her pinkie and heard him chuckle from the laptop on the bench to her right. Outstretching the remainder of her fingers, she pushed her whole hand through and waved. It was so surreal seeing her arm cut off at the wrist, yet to know it had appeared on the opposite side of the planet.

The excitement in Brett's voice was obvious. "Can I be the first person to congratulate you on your achievement?"

"Sure," she called across to the microphone in the laptop.

She recoiled slightly at his touch, then held her hand out for him to shake. He was warm, which proved nerve endings still worked across the gulf of space-time. Thrilling. They'd been working together a year, maybe two and had never met in person, yet their work had allowed them to touch one another. Her smile turned into a grin, then a laugh as they shook hands, gently at first then with a little more vigour. She imagined him standing there, gripping a disembodied hand.

"Is it weird?" she called out.

"A bit. It's like… meeting Thing from the Addams Family."

"Oh, thanks!"

"No, I mean, your hand is nicer of course. Prettier. And a whole heap softer."

"You can't backtrack now, mister."

"I'm not backtracking. It's true."

Karen laughed. She enjoyed their banter more than Anton's. More natural. Brett was easy to tease, but could dish out as good as he got when necessary, and had a crazy sense of humour.

She pulled back a little and released his hand, feeling suddenly cold. "Hold your palm up."

"What?"

"Palm up," she called over her shoulder. "I'll read your fortune."

He did as he was told and she felt around in the air for him, her fingertips brushing his palm. She traced the warmth of his hand. It felt good. Firm. Probably like the rest of him. He worked out, she knew that much; to counter his 'sedentary lifestyle' as he put it. She adopted a croaky voice. "I see great things in your future, young man. Awards."

It was his turn to laugh, so she continued. "Yes. Plenty of admiration too. Maybe the cover of New Scientist. Brett Jackson: the face of wormholes." She both heard and felt his laughter. "Wait, what's this?" she traced her fingertips along the edge of his palm, up to his thumb then back to the centre, feeling him shudder. "Yes, yessss," she croaked. "I see a girl in your future. Pretty young thing she is too. Hazel eyes. Long, black hair. No pets. Spends too much time at work. Some say she's too dedicated, but it's probably because she's only there to give her colleagues… a hand."

Brett roared with laughter. "Stop it!"

"Does my reading disturb you, Mr. Jackson? Does my… " she traced all the way to his index fingertip and back, "… hand disturb you?"

"Not exactly."

"So what is it, hmmm? Tell Thing aaaall about it." She rested her fingertips in his palm and idly tickled it.

"Full disclosure?"

"Full disclosure. We're all friends here."

"Well, my… I'm. My pants have a zipper. Metal. So I…"

He didn't finish. Karen had a strange feeling of power surge through her, followed by a wicked thought that surprised her with its clarity. An unholy one. A temptation she knew she shouldn't follow, but found impossible to resist. She continued in her faux voice:

"How very safety-conscious of you. Let Thing see."

She reached her arm a little further through the wormhole and brushed the hairs on his leg with the back of her hand. Turned it over and rested it on his thigh, as warm as his hand. Maybe warmer. More muscular than she expected. Her mind flashed back to the previous evening again. The heat. The intoxicating passion. Then to Brett's smile every time he saw her. The one he couldn't disguise, its meaning glossed over on so many occasions by her overloaded brain. It was the look she was now convinced gave away how he really felt. The fact he hadn't recoiled from her touch added further credence.

She imagined him standing there in his underwear and T-shirt while she stroked his leg. His physique formed easily in her mind; she'd awoken a few nights to racy dreams involving the pair of them entwined, then used the latent scenes to fuel her fingers and drive herself to completion. Thousands of miles of sexual tension, now conquered by science. By her. The opportunity of a lifetime just a few centimetres above her resting hand. Could she do it? After all the rhetoric, could she do something not for the good of humankind, but for herself, using the shoulders of giants to explore the roots of desire?

The feel of his skin elevated her heart to its thunderous beat from earlier. She wondered if he could hear it as her hand crept up his thigh, to the leg of his underwear. Boxers. She touched the cotton. Paused. Breathed in. Continued a little further, then across, his flinch electrifying as she made contact and felt him surge.

"Uhhh, Karen…?"

She was barely listening. The blood rushing past her ears obscured everything, her primary focus the blood rushing to fill his manhood. She squeezed gently, acknowledging its power, feeling it stretch the fabric as it grew. She became bolder. Rubbed it a little. Traced her way up the bulge to his straining waistband and scratched the head through the material. Delicately, she reached beneath the elastic, felt the heat of his tip beneath. Couldn’t resist exploring further, hearing his sharp breaths. Pulling the cotton towards herself, she exposed more of him before drawing downward.

With a rocking motion and some help from his hips, the underwear was soon gone. Her hand slithered back up his thigh, feeling him shiver before grasping his thick cock. She slid her hand up and down its length, much bigger than she expected, somehow simultaneously leather and steel as the hood cloaked and revealed the smooth bulb at its tip.

Karen was shaking inside. It felt delicious and decadent and definitely naughty. Two workplace indiscretions on consecutive days. She had some serious atoning to do later. Much later. Her hand worked Brett's shaft up and down. Was it gross misconduct? Abuse of status? The scientific implications of how it was possible blew her mind, elevating her excitement further, overshadowing the doubts. She could argue it was part of the experiment. A natural extension of her work. Extension. She smiled.

Under her continued wanking, she felt pre-come form, and slathered it over Brett's rod as she masturbated. From the laptop speaker she could hear his erratic intakes of breath when she slid just right or teased the shiny head with her fingertip. The fact he was so turned on manifested itself in her body too. She could feel herself moistening. Wanted more, the need sparking inside her.

Slowing her actions, she gripped his shaft and gently tugged, guiding him forward. He seemed hesitant at first, but she coaxed him closer to the portal then released his length and crooked her finger, beckoning him, slowly withdrawing her hand entirely and dropping to her knees. She waited, breath catching in her throat with every inhalation. Any moment.

Like a veined monster rising from the deep, the head of his cock surfaced and began to protrude into the lab. She squealed as the next inch came through. "Oh Brett, yes."

Reaching for it, she wrapped her hand around the thick shaft and picked up where she'd left off the other side of the world, pulling more of him towards her. She poked her tongue out and tasted the end. Salty yet sweet, she savoured the droplet a moment then opened her mouth and slithered the tip past her lips. The pair of them groaned in unison as the first couple of inches disappeared into her wet mouth and she began to suck and bob her head.

More delicious cock appeared and Karen worked her way down it, taking each glorious inch into her inviting wetness, saliva glimmering around his knob in the lab light.

She pulled back a moment and curled her fingers around him, jacking his impressive manhood. "Fuck, Brett, you're so big."

From the laptop speaker she heard him exhale. "Eleven thousand miles of cock, baby. Can you take it all?"

Karen cracked up with laughter and put the head back in her mouth, sucking the tip loudly, then sitting back. "No promises, but I'll do what I can."

She wrapped her fingers around it and jacked the skin back and forth over the rigid shaft. Each time the head was revealed she licked the end, gradually taking more into her mouth until she dropped her hand away and inched his huge organ along the back of her tongue. She coughed, pulled back, then pressed on, taking more.

"Fuck, Karen. You kept your talents for space age blowjobs well hidden."

She withdrew, slurping saliva and smiled. "Surprised?"

Brett breathed out as she ran her fingertips the full length of his shaft. "Pleasantly."

"Still wanna duel me at Counterstrike?"

"Hell, no."

"Right answer."

She took him again, deeper this time. Up to the gagging point, trying to control it. She coughed once more, but was determined to go on, driven by… God only knew. Lust? Power? She didn't know. Just wanted to please him. Pushing her tongue out so she could fit more of him inside, she bobbed her head down until her nose was almost touching the portal.

He groaned, but the next voice she heard wasn't his:

"Half a billion dollars of research and you reduce it to a glory hole."

She went cold. Brett's cock slithered from her throat, back through the portal amid a muffled curse and she twisted to see Anton leaning on the doorframe by the coat stand, watching. He smiled and gestured:

"Don't stop on my account, Brett. If she's as good with that mouth as she is with her tight pussy…"

He left the words hanging.

Brett's voice filtered into the room. "Seriously? You let him fuck you?"

Karen looked at the floor. "I didn't mean to. It just kind of… happened."

"When?"

"Uhhh, last night."

"Jesus."

Anton seemed amused. "Oh, don't sound so surprised, Brett. I know she wants you, but I'm here and you're not. Well, not wholly." Karen shot him a look. He just grinned in his typical self-satisfying manner and started to cross the room. "Thing is, she's a horny little bitch. Just needed the right man to show her how much."

Karen felt a pang of guilt at being referred to like that. Like an object. But the way he said it… so decisive. It made her pussy tremble and her knickers bore the brunt of his words. As he stepped within a foot of her kneeling form, she faced the portal, not wishing to make eye contact in case he could also read her mind. She heard the gentle swish of material as he knelt behind her, hot breath against her ear raising the hairs on her arms.

"And if I'm not very much mistaken," he continued, gliding his hands over her lab coat from shoulders down her hourglass and under her rump, giving it a squeeze, "She wants more now."

Anton drifted his hands lower, bunching the skirt material as he did, lifting it wrinkle by wrinkle until her panties were exposed to the lab air. She didn't stop him, instead shivering at his touch. Moreso when the fingers of one hand crept lower and he cupped her wet mound through her underwear. She exhaled. Wasn't accustomed to losing control. Couldn't deny the feelings, despite the misgivings. "I'm a good girl, Anton. Really. Don't…"

"Don't what? Touch your wet pussy? My, it is wet. Is all that for him? Or shall I warm you up first?" He pulled her knickers aside, grazed his fingertip across her lips, making her shudder. "Oh, Karen. You're not a good girl. You're a dirty girl. A filthy girl who loves to make men come. You'd take us both right now, wouldn't you?"

"No…"

"Yes you would. Think about it. A cock in your throat and one up your pretty, tight cunt. Dirty girls like you love that."

Karen wanted to admit that the notion was repulsive, but the truth was, in some twisted way he was right. She was so horny riding the long tail of their previous union, she could have ripped his clothes off and mounted him right then. To hell with decorum. Just cock required.

Her co-worker continued gently massaging her outer lips, pressing his digit into her folds, making her gasp, his wet finger tracing a path along the inner lips that were engorging, opening, ready to play. "Come on, Karen. Tell Brett what you want."

Anton slithered his finger further, brushing her clit and she jolted at the touch, breathing out hard through gritted teeth. It was pointless fighting her urges. "Let me suck your cock, Brett. I want it all in my mouth."

Anton snarled in her ear. "And?"

She twisted her face towards him. "And… and I want you to fuck me too."

"At the same time?"

She paused, breathed out again. "Yes. Both of you at once."

"Why?" hissed Anton.

"Because." She stopped. Gasped when he circled her clit. "Because I'm…"

"What are you, Karen?"

"A d… dirty slut."

"That's right, Karen." He unfurled her bun, grabbed a bunch of her hair and pulled her head back. "Now tell him again. Like you mean it."

"Please, Brett," she pleaded. "Let me suck your huge cock again. I want every inch."

Anton chuckled and released her hair as they both waited.

Waited.

Slowly, Brett's erect meat eased back into the room from New Zealand. Without waiting for it to fully emerge, Karen hungrily devoured it as Anton strummed his fingers back and forth along her soaked entrance.

Karen could barely believe it, but it was happening. Dark fantasies – things she would barely admit to herself – had crash-landed into her head and wouldn't leave. The word 'slut' echoed around her brain. A dirty word, with all the negative connotations she could imagine; hookers, escorts, women with loose morals and looser panty elastic. But instead of balking at the thought, she found herself attracted to it. Inexplicably empowered by it.

She began to relax and embrace it as she sucked Brett's cock, humming as Anton stroked her proud clit. Perhaps the associations she had made with the word were of her own making? Her own prejudices. What she actually felt was pleasure. Pure pleasure at the prospect of making love to two men at once. If that made her a slut for one night, well, just maybe that was okay.

Wiggling her ass at Anton as he caressed her pussy lips, he slid a finger inside her. She gasped around Brett's girth and took a little more of him before coughing again, backing off and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She took the opportunity to turn back to Anton. "Aren't you gonna fuck me then?"

It seemed he didn't need telling twice. His hand disappeared from her snatch, she heard his zipper descend and she raised her butt in his direction, gyrating in what she hoped was a provocative manner. The next thing she felt was Anton nudging her entrance alongside her panties.

"Yes. Put it inside me."

He obliged, surging forward in one stroke, making her gasp. She realised she was still holding Brett's cock and turned her attention back to it. A pearlescent drop glimmered at its tip and she scooped her tongue out to taste its silky texture, then engulfed him, trying to set up the same rhythm as the one Anton was feeding her.

It took a few strokes but soon she had it nailed. Every thrust from Anton pushed her onto Brett's massive tool. Every retreat let the cock emerge from her mouth wet and glistening before she plunged back onto it. Fuck it felt good, giving and receiving at once. Better than she had ever imagined. And she had imagined it plenty, after reading endless badly written trash fiction novels where the characters had stupid names like Rhage or Jhade, seemingly with eleven-inch cocks in every dimension. Chick porn on Kindle, her fingers doing the walking into the night, imagining the very situation she now found herself. It was crazy. Surreal. Was it even possible to go from denial to acceptance within twenty-four hours? Fuck.

Her body responded favourably to the pounding. As if the squelching noise echoing off the lab walls wasn't enough, she could feel how wet she was with each of Anton's thrusts. Karen slammed her body back onto him and sucked deeply, listening to Brett's excitement over the laptop speaker.

Without warning, he pulled out of her mouth, a strangled howl filling the room. She watched the end of his cock bob, presumably as he fought to delay his orgasm. Pinching the end a little, she waited for him to calm enough, concentrating on ramming herself against Anton's hips instead. He slapped her arse. "Horny slut. You love this."

"Yes. Come on. Harder."

His hand found her upturned butt again and she yelped. Again when he leaned into her body and upped the pace, pistoning in and out, reaching forward to paw her tits through her blouse. It only made her wetter. Hotter. On all fours like a fucking animal. Her erogenous zones connected, the pinch from his fingers directly connected to the quantity of juice she secreted around his deep thrusts. A knot formed in her tummy, pleasure spreading outward. Arcing against her nipples and clit from the inside like she was caught in an electrical storm of her own making. The intensity grew rapidly, boiling, bubbling, rolling beneath her skin, making her scalp tingle, then everything closed in for a split second and burst.

Pulses of light blurred her vision and she closed her eyes to keep them inside. Her body wound and unwound in a rhythm: tight, slack, tight. Over and over she felt the ripples of pleasure course her entire frame. She may have yelled or held her breath, she couldn’t be sure which. But when the pulses abated, her breath rasped from her body and she collapsed forward off Anton's cock, dropping below the portal.

In the distance she was aware of Anton standing. Moving around the lab. She rolled onto her back, looked up and saw Brett's cock still protruding into the room. It remained hard and she reached up weakly to touch it, marvelling at the way it responded with a little jolt. Had he come? Judging from the size of him, she guessed not. She wrapped her fingers around it again, gently wanking him, hearing his heavy breathing, very little bass from the laptop.

She became aware of Anton again and focused. He was standing over her.

"Up. You're not done yet. We're not done yet, right Brett?"

Karen heard his affirmation. More confident now. Needy. Anton reached down and she grasped his arm as he hauled her to her shaky feet to face him, steadying her before letting go.

"Reverse," he instructed. She stepped back half a pace. "Further."

She felt it then. Brett's cock brushing her exposed butt. She wiggled side to side as she positioned herself in line with the portal, pushing back in a steady beat so he slid up and down the crack of her rear. Wondered how she could still be horny after such a huge orgasm, but her body seemed to crave the attention. Her mind fizzed and she reached behind herself to guide Brett's thickness into her already used pussy.

Fuck he was big. Much fatter than Anton. Longer too as she pushed back against him and cried out at his considerable reach inside her body. The pace was slower than Anton's. It had to be. She felt like she was being turned inside out every time his dick slithered from her drenched channel and glided back in.

Karen groaned with each languorous thrust, then Anton stepped in front of her and she grabbed for his dick, taking it into her mouth. She tasted herself and moaned; the tang of pure lust, slightly acidic. It reminded her of an exotic fruit, like physalis. Felt his hands around her head, taking control, pulling her onto him roughly as he grew to full hardness. She held onto his hips, tried to time Brett's strokes with Anton's, but the rhythm was off so she gave up and just let herself be used by the men.

One of Anton's hands travelled to the back of her head and bunched her hair again. He shoved forward, burying his cock deep in her mouth until Karen gagged, then pulled out, watching the spit strings looping between them and falling to the floor. He tipped her head up, stared down into her wide hazel irises, water streaming down her cheeks. "Again," he commanded.

She lined up with his cock, took a deep breath and he shoved inside her, filling her completely. Brett did too, the dual stimulation making her quake. She felt her eyes running again, swatted Anton's legs and he released her as air rushed into her lungs all at once. Then he was back inside before she'd recovered, holding her until she choked then releasing her, gasping.

Before he could do it again, she grabbed his cock, swirled her tongue around its tip and took it at her pace, at her depth. Brett was splitting her pussy in a steady rhythm. It felt fucking fantastic. Karen snaked her spare hand down to tend to her aching clit, circling and teasing it, feeling her body respond.

Then she felt Anton yanking the front of her spare blouse apart. Two garments within a day. Passion had a price. He reached under the material and her lab coat to unhook her smooth bra and it fell loose, her breasts swinging freely under natural gravity.

She concentrated on fucking Brett until she felt Anton pinching her nipples and she sighed. Christ, his hands were cold. Then he pinched harder and she cried out as pain seared through her chest followed by an intense warmth. His grip didn't waver and she looked down. Instead of seeing his hands, she saw a skirt hanger dangling from her tits, each clip secured over a nipple. She'd left the hanger on the coat stand due to the number of times she'd stayed late and swapped outfits without going home.

The pain was in equal parts incredible as it was terrifying. When she was close to climax at home, she always pinched her nipples to bring herself off, but this was on another level. Anton grabbed her head with one hand to plough his dick into her mouth while she bucked on Brett's huge rod. Anton put a finger from his free hand into the curve of the hanger's metal hook and pressed down slightly, lengthening Karen's nipples.

"Aaaoooammmm," she moaned around his cock. Pain like she'd never felt shot through her tits and connected with her clit, igniting it. She shoved back onto Brett and could hear his excitement rising. Knew he wouldn't last much longer. Anton bounced his finger on the coat hanger again and Karen pulled away from his cock as pain tore through her body and warmed her very core.

"Fuck!"

Anton snorted. "Good?"

"Hell yes!"

He tutted. "You're such a slut, Karen. If only you could see yourself right now." He paused, then added. "But of course you'll be able to later." He stepped aside and Karen looked directly into the unblinking eye of the video camera, capturing every humiliating, sordid detail of her transformation from what she considered a normal girl into a cock-worshipping slut.

Her stomach lurched, like that moment the plane drops during turbulence. She wanted to distance herself from what she knew was being recorded. Wanted to be repulsed. But the feeling was transient, replaced with something she couldn't at first identify. It was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Just the intense heat in her nipples and wetness between her legs where Brett sawed, everything connected at once, nerve endings on fire accompanied by a brain rush that engulfed every thought.

Without warning, her world collapsed again, one hand diving between her legs, the other supporting herself on Anton's staff. This time she did cry out. She felt it reverberating in her lungs beneath Anton's tug on the coat hanger as her pussy contracted repeatedly around Brett's girth. Then a physical stillness rode atop mental chaos. In comparison to the earlier orgasm, she was more alert second time around. She held her breath through the first handful of contractions, before all the air burst from her body and she went limp.

She felt Brett's rhythm break down and knew he was going to come. Anton must have heard his breathing escalate too because he yanked Karen forward and shoved her to her knees alongside the portal. She fumbled for Brett's wet cock that had vacated her still spasming pussy and pulled it towards her, opening her mouth as jet after jet of hot come fired from Brett's loins across the gulf of space to stripe her tongue and cheek. She heard him roar as he unloaded, and loved that she'd done that with her body. It felt so lewd. She smiled as the jets waned and the last remnants of white spunk drizzled from his fat tip onto her outstretched tongue.

She took him in her mouth again and sucked the combination of him and her from his shaft. Before she could savour the sensation any further, Anton twisted her face to his body. "You're so fucking dirty. Look at you. Look at the camera."

Karen did as she was told. Anton pulled forward on the skirt hanger once more and she yelled as the pain spiralled around her tits, the corresponding juices dripping from her pussy to the linoleum.

Anton wrapped his fist around his cock and pumped. "Look into the camera," he repeated unnecessarily. "Say what you are."

Karen stared into the lens. Took a deep breath. "I'm a filthy fucking slut."

Anton muttered, "Dirty, dirty, girl," under his breath. "Open up."

She did. His breathing transformed to a snarl and he pointed his dick at Karen's face, shortly unleashing his own load across her tongue and other cheek. She took everything he gave, feeling the heat of his spunk pooling on her tongue, before slithering her finger to her cheeks and scooping the ribbons of come from there to mix on her tongue.

Anton leered, pulling away from her, his fist still encasing his waning erection. "Show us how dirty you are."

Karen stared at the camera, now fully committed. Gave a final flash of her outstretched tongue criss-crossed with sperm and theatrically swallowed the lot.

Zipping up, Anton chuckled. "Atta girl."

She looked up at him, somewhat demurely. Her pussy throbbed. Her nipples ached. She felt part shame at her behaviour, but mostly alive. There was no going back. No more plain Karen. Anton recognised it too, grin widening as he ran his fingers through his mousey hair and stooped to unclip the skirt hanger from her distended nipples. They tingled as the blood poured back in to fill the void, and she gasped.

He offered a hand, which she took, hauling herself up. Brett's cock had gone, slithered back to New Zealand coated in her smell and saliva. Karen tried to make herself presentable, wriggling her skirt back down and refastening her bra, raw nipples rubbing against the material. Her blouse was definitely ruined. She did up what buttons remained hanging by their threads and settled for doing up the poppers on her lab coat. Anton shut off the camera, ejected the tape and handed it to her.

"Well, I declare the experiment a success. But you'd best keep this safe. Run the experiment again later with… fewer hormones on display, yeah? For the record." Karen nodded fast. "Print off the parameters of this run, log the results on the central server and I'll sign both from home. We'll say there was a technical issue with the camera."

She nodded again. "Thanks. I uhhh, owe you one."

He waved it off. "Not after that performance. Pleasure was thirty-three percent mine. See you in the morning," he leaned in close enough so she could smell his musky aftershave and feel the tickle in her ear as he whispered, "you little science slut."

Anton turned, calling out, "Night, Brett. Don't keep QwertyFace up too long. She needs to catch up on her beauty sleep."

On his way past the coat stand, he replaced the hanger and pushed through the double doors, leaving Karen alone clutching the evidence of her considerable transgression, thoughts racing, insides still churning, the high simply refusing to leave her body.

She crossed the room, dropped the tape in her bag and returned to the laptop. Beyond it, to her left, the dark wormhole shimmered, its edges sharply defined against the white wall of the lab. Her fingers hovered over the ESC key, wanting to do it and not at the same time. What if it was a one-off? Unrepeatable.

"Hey, Brett, you still there?"

"Course. That was… incredible. Wasn't it?"

She smiled. "It was something else."

Her fingertips brushed the key, eyes staring at the portal. Its applications. Its possibilities. The things it could do for humankind. The things it could do for her career. The things it could do.

"Brett?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna call it a day or should we, y'know… perform a couple more experiments? Just to be sure it works to our satisfaction."

There was a pause. "I dunno. Cheetos and video games are quite a draw."

Karen chuckled. Said nothing.

"You think the taxpayer will mind?"

She smiled. Drew her hand away from the escape key, fingertips trailing across the bench and off its edge as she stepped towards the portal once more.

"They're a pretty understanding bunch. I think they'll be pleased we took our testing seriously. It's for their benefit, after all."

With every step towards the portal, the excitement grew, her skin prickling. She yanked the poppers of her lab coat apart, spilling her bra-clad breasts to the room once more. Her nipples were hard by the time she dropped to her knees at the portal.

Brett's voice filtered into the room. "Are you serious?"

Karen let a full-body shiver ripple through her. "Come over here. Let me show you how much."