Doc s Complex 04 Fun With Changing Machines
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Doc's Complex 03 - Introductions free porn video
Doc's Complex 03 - Introductions
by Lee Most
Copyright 2012 by Lee Most
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Chapter 3 - Introductions
Doc stood in front of a group of white-coated women, a long wooden
pointer in his hand to gesture at the screen on the stage.
"Fellow scientists, I present to you my latest experiment. We discovered
these seventeen intruders in the old mine near Level 8 yesterday evening,
after learning of their presence from two men who were captured by robots
when they actually entered the Complex yesterday afternoon. I cleared the
level, of course, and as per standard procedure, the two men were changed
into beautiful, sexy, intelligent women and became new citizens of the
Complex with no knowledge of their former existence."
A map of the mine and Level 8 appeared on the screen, and Doc used the
pointer to indicate the locations about which he talked as he continued
his lecture.
"While the seventeen men slept in the mine, I sent robots to retrieve
eight of them and take them to the automated Changing Room in one of the
suites. The robots also gathered the belongings of the first two men and
used a simple mindwarping device to erase all memories of them from the
minds of the others in their party. The remaining members of their
little expedition now all believe that there were seventeen of them, not
nineteen. I've also sent an agent to the former homes of our new
citizens to make sure no evidence or memories of their existence will
trouble anyone in the Real World and lead them here trying to find them.
We must maintain the secret of our existence, above all.
"Now, last night, the robots put the eight men on the tables of the
Changing Room, and I changed them into beautiful, sexy, intelligent women
and timed their awakening to match the arrival of the rest of the men who
are searching for them. The women all believe that they were born here
and have never left the Complex in their lives."
A woman near the front raised her hand and asked, "Doc, you said this was
an experiment. Isn't what you described the standard procedure for all
men who come here uninvited?"
"So far as I've described, it is, Marielle. Good question! When the
remaining men meet the newly changed women, they will not be changed to
women. It has been a while since we have observed the reactions of
outsiders to the Complex and what goes on here. Is the Real World ready
to know of our existence yet? Have they matured enough to use our
superior scientific knowledge and discoveries to do anything but kill
each other? Do they still persist in their false and outdated belief
that men are in any way superior to women?
"I propose to let the women introduce the men to the ways of the Complex,
let them live here for a while, say fourteen days, and then see how many
would prefer to stay and how many would prefer to return to their former
lives, with the usual restrictions, of course.
"Ah! I perceive that the men are approaching the Changing Room. Let's
awaken the eight who were changed, and see what happens."
Another woman spoke up. "You said that the nine men are searching for
their eight missing companions, right? So won't they connect the fact
that they lost eight men and found eight women in a Changing Room that
can change men into women?"
"Thank you, Lorianne. Another good question. Will they do the math or
be dazzled by pulchritude? Let us watch!"
The map on the screen was replaced by a projection from a hidden camera
in the Changing Room, and the audience grew quiet as they listened to the
sounds from microphones planted all over the room.
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Chuck was the first to break the staring contest and speak. "Well,
ladies, it seems we have a problem."
Al looked from Chuck to the girls on the tables, admiring him for his
ability to speak in the presence of these goddesses, and admiring the
girls, period.
The girl on the closest table swung her long legs off it and sat up,
making no effort at all to hide the thick red bush of curly hair between
her legs that matched the color of the cloud of curls surrounding her
pretty face. In a clear, high-pitched voice that easily cut through the
noise of the humming machinery, she answered, "And what problem might
that be, uh," She looked toward the ceiling, stopped as if listening,
then aimed her blue eyes back at Chuck's grey ones and continued,
"Charles Berringer Jones?"
Chuck blinked at the mention of his full name from this stranger, but
then he smiled, "Well, the problem is simply that there are nine of us,
and only eight of you!"
Al was always impressed at guys who could come on to girls so strongly
right from the get-go. He was always sure that if he said something like
that to a pretty girl, her response would be to slap his face, or worse,
walk away without saying anything at all. He watched her with interest,
wondering how she would respond.
She looked around at the other young girls, all of whom appeared to be
around eighteen or so, and then directed her gaze back to Chuck. She
nodded her head in agreement and smiled provocatively, "Yes. That is a
problem. There are so few of you. I'd like three or four of you for
myself, and as it is, I'll have to share." She licked her lips as she
slid off the table to the floor and approached him.
Al's eyes widened at the approaching apparition. He was not a virgin,
but he could number the women he had seen naked on one hand, and one was
his sister. He had, of course, seen photos in Playboy magazine, and
indeed after years of studying that journal, his standard of what a girl
should look like was based upon his favorites of the touched-up
photographs they printed - which explained the paucity of his sexual
partners -- but this girl, in fact each girl in this room, was so
superior in face and figure to anyone he had ever seen before that he was
frozen in sheer awe. If anyone had touched him, he would have had taken
a minute to remind himself that there were other things in the universe
that might require his attention. His body, for one.
When she was an inch from Chuck's chest, she stopped, her breasts
squashed against his wide abdomen, and she looked up at his unshaven
face. "What about it, big boy? I'm already dressed for the activity
you're suggesting. Shall we see what's causing this bulge in your
pants?"
While they watched the provocative conversation or stared at the men, the
other girls on the tables assumed different poses, sitting, lying on
their sides, one kneeling on the table and doing something to her hair,
another standing on the floor and leaning against the side of her table,
her elbows resting on the surface behind her. None of them showed any
sense of modesty at all.
Except one.
Al noticed the girl with the short, dark hair because she was so furtive.
She was the only one who tried to cover her large chest from the sight of
the men with her tiny hands. She ducked her head as if she could hide
from the view of others if she did not look at them, and quietly slipped
off the farthest table in the back of the room to crouch down behind it.
She was the only one who seemed as embarrassed as he would have been
after being caught naked in a room like this with no way to cover
himself. He pretended he was looking at Chuck and the brazen girl he was
now kissing and feeling up, but his eyes were really on the "little
mouse" as he thought of her. He saw her sneak from the concealment of
the table to behind a cabinet full of blinking lights, to a rack of
shelves with neat piles of (he assumed) the girls' personal items, and
then to a panel on the wall, where she began punching keys on a computer
keyboard like the ones they had at Mission Control at Cape Kennedy.
Fearing that she was calling for security guards to arrest the intruders,
he wanted to alert the others, but when he again focused his eyes on the
people next to him, he found them eagerly removing all their clothes! A
glance at the other girls told him that like the one with Chuck, they
also seemed interested in his companions' sexual abilities more than in
calling for help.
Was this some kind of underground haven for free love? Were these girls
part of a hippie commune or something? He had never heard of hippies or
communes that used robotic machines or electronic equipment like this, so
who were these beautiful, sexy, and obviously very horny babes?
Al could not decide what he should do. Should he join in the fun? Should
he go to the door and act as a lookout? If he did, then what could he do
if someone came who knew they were not supposed to be here? What if that
dark-haired girl was reporting them and these others were only using
their abundant charms to distract and delay the men until help arrived?
He looked fearfully at the girl who had gone to the computer, and relaxed
when he saw what was on the screen. It was a selection of dresses, and
as he watched, the screen shifted to a selection of bras.
He turned back to his friends, and found them engaged in an orgy.
Naked women, naked men, naked arms, legs, breasts, several different
shades and hues of skin color; it was difficult to determine which girl
was with which man. In fact, it was difficult to tell which limb
belonged to which person!
Still unsure of what to do, Al walked around the writhing group on the
floor as if analyzing a tangled knot before trying to untie it. Here was
a hand massaging a breast that belonged to a girl who was licking the
nipple of another girl while another man pumped in and out of her, and he
was kissing yet another girl, while she was rocking back against the
groin of another man, who had one of his hands on the breast of one girl
while running his fingers through the hair of another. Al could not keep
track of all the connections and gave up trying. Instead he took a more
aesthetic approach, admiring a feminine curve here and there, noting how
the curve of an arm matched the curve of a thigh right next to it,
observing techniques that he might want to try with a girl if he got the
chance someday to be with one in a less public, and more comfortable
setting.
"It must be pretty uncomfortable doing it on the floor like that," he
thought, and then saw something he had only read about.
He stared at a girl sitting over a guy's face while he did something with
his mouth to her genitals while she had the guy's shaft in her mouth. Al
watched in fascination as she somehow moved her lips along the length
until she had taken in the whole thing!
"It's called '69'," whispered a very pleasant voice next to his ear.
Startled, Al looked around quickly to see the girl with the short dark
hair standing next to him. She was exactly his height in her heels, and
was now fully dressed, wearing a fashionable yellow mini-skirted dress
with a square neckline that displayed her impressive cleavage and much of
her ample bosom. A necklace of large beads was so long she had wrapped
it twice around her neck and the lower ends still twisted sideways at the
top of her cleavage.
"Stop looking at her tits, Al!" he told himself, forcing his gaze down to
her legs.
Her long, perfect legs, ensheathed in bright orange tights that did
nothing to hide her well-toned, tapering thighs and shapely calves,
extended down to small feet in white, high-heeled pumps. All found
himself wondering what the toes of a perfect woman like this would look
like.
She pointed at the woman she was talking about, causing him to look away
from her pretty feet back to the pair on the floor nearest them.
"Charlettia muss be happy. She said 69 is pro'ly the only thing she
misses 'bout the Real World. Wanna try it?"
Her accent was odd, and she contracted words in ways he was not used to,
but the sound of her voice made him think he could listen to her talk for
years. Comprehension came a second or two after that thought, and he
snapped his head around again, making her giggle.
"Y'could hurt your neck like that, Albert Eisenstein. Does everyone in
the Real World have more than one name?"
"God, you're beautiful," he declared when he saw her face again. Her
deep brown eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her wide smile, her chin, every
part of her face seemed perfectly matched to every other.
Again, her words sank in a moment later and he stuttered as he tried to
give an intelligent answer to this dream come true, who seemed to find
this whole situation not only natural, but amusing enough to have a
casual conversation about, as if seeing an orgy on the floor of a mad
scientist's laboratory or whatever this place was, happened so often she
could ignore it and chat with other onlookers.
"Ye-yes, I, uh, I guess so. Don't you have a family name?"
" 'Family' name?" She looked confused and looked up at the ceiling.
"Doc?" She listened to the silence and then said, "That's enough." She
looked pensively at Al. "I din't know how li'l I know 'bout the Real
World. You are part of a 'Family?' You know who's related to you by the
names you share with them? Doc says I have to tell you my name as if you
are a mental cripple who can't communicate with him, or one of the no-
nothings on Level 300, and there's a ceremony I have to perform while I
doo't."
Al wondered what she was talking about and watched as she faced him and
stood very straight. Then she held out her hand for him to shake and
waited for him to take it. She very solemnly and a bit slowly shook his
hand three times as she said to him, taking care to pronounce each word,
"Hello, Albert Eisenstein. My name is Keela, which is spelled 'K. E. E.
L. A.' I am very pleased to meet you." She let go of his hand and
relaxed. Her mobile face took on a questioning expression as she asked,
"Did I doo't properly, Albert Eisenstein? Doc says y'don't automatically
know how to spell each other's names, so I added that part on my own. It
didn't ruin the ceremony for you, di'it?"
She looked a little worried, so he smiled to reassure her, "No, Keela,
it's not really a formal ceremony. Just a custom, and no one really
cares how you do it. I like the spelling thing. You wouldn't believe
how many people misspell my name. You can just call me 'Al,' by the way.
We don't usually use our whole names a lot, and often use nicknames.
Charles, over there, for instance; he likes to be called 'Chuck,' and his
brother, who is the other big Italian somewhere in that pile, is known as
'Buck.' In fact, now that I think about it, I don't know what Buck's
full name really is, and I've known him for years. I'm talking a lot,
aren't I? I'll shut up now."
"Buck has the same first name as you," she said. "His full name's Albert
Buckingham Jones, which's spelled, 'A.L.B.'--"
She was so good looking! And her mouth, as it formed each letter, made
such pretty shapes, but he did not want to hear Buck's entire name
spelled out a letter at a time, so he kissed her. He kissed her right on
her pretty mouth.
She attempted to say, "E," but said, "Mm," instead, and then she stopped
talking.
Her mouth felt soft and tasted like strawberries or flowers or some other
delicious thing that he could not think of just then. When he was about
to pull away, she put her hands on the back of his head and opened her
mouth, inviting his tongue to enter, and then she kissed him back.
She did not give him just a little peck, or the sort of chaste, lips-only
sort of kiss he could easily pull away from. She was easily as strong as
he was, and she held his head while she used her lips and tongue to tease
and explore every part of his mouth that she could reach, and she even
sucked his own tongue into her mouth, inviting him to do the same.
Electricity seemed to flow into his mouth from hers, and travel all
through his head, down his spine, and even his legs began to quiver and
shiver. The skin of his arms had goosebumps!
No one had ever kissed him like this before, and he was pretty sure that
no one he had ever met had been kissed like this, and maybe no one in the
whole world, or they would have written a song about it that would have
been on the top of every radio station's charts, or a poem about it so
wonderful that everyone in the world could quote it. Al knew he wanted
to tell the world about this delightful kiss!
One of her hands slid down to hug his back, and then the other went to
his waist, and still their mouths were together. He put his arms around
her, and felt her soft blouse, and through it a silky chemise, and under
that was nothing but her smooth skin. Her breasts pressed against his
chest, and she felt soft and warm and delightful, she smelled sweet and
tasty, and he wanted to do nothing that would ruin his chances and make
her go away.
She released her hold on him and he took the hint and relaxed his arms.
They backed apart and looked at each other's faces, licking their lips to
savor the leftover taste of each other's mouths.
"That was nice. I'd like to take you home with me, but you can't go out
looking like that," Keela said, looking at the door. She licked her lips
again, as if savoring for the last time what she would not do again, and
nodded her head at the steel tables next to them, making him look at them
as well.
Not for the first time since he had seen them, he wondered what the steel
tables were for, and what all the oddly shaped apparatus and oversized
dental drill things sticking out of the tables did. When they had first
seen these eight nubile nymphs, they had been lying on these tables, but
why? He would find out sooner than he expected, and in a very direct
way.
"I suppose since like being called 'Al', you could change your name to
some variation on 'Alice'," Keela mused aloud, and then, as if it was the
most ordinary thing in the world to say, she asked him, "How big do you
want your breasts to be?"
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To Be Continued!
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Author's note:
I was sure someone would have figured out who the girls really were by
now! Well, I did say there would be 30 chapters, but I sort of hoped I'd
be through this introductory tale by now. Doc's story spans some 200
years! Talk about being trapped in the 60s, sheesh!
I'm writing this novel as part of the 2012 NaNoWriMo challenge, in which
I intend to post a chapter a day during November. For more info about
National Novel Writing Month, see www.NaNoWriMo.org.
By the way, if you like to write and can't resist improving this story
with extra characters or new adventures or situations for the existing
characters, go ahead! I know other writers can describe that orgy in a
much more exciting way than I did, for instance, and I can't describe
more than a few of the 17 of the people in the room and what happens to
each of them. You have my permission to post your version on
FictionMania. To avoid confusion, add a letter to the chapter #, like
"Doc's Complex 03a", and make up a new title. Who knows? If enough
people do it, FictionMania may add a new category!
Editing/Reposting: If you want to post this or an edited or amended
version of this story anywhere other than FictionMania, send me a message
so I'll know where it is. (I'm not against other people reading my
stuff. I just want to know how far it can spread.)
If you can figure out a way to make a profit from my writing and do, the
share I claim is owed to me is modest: $0.01 per copy read on screen or
printed or downloaded, or 1% of gross sales, or 10% of the profits,
whichever of the three amounts is largest.
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