Doc's Complex 09 - Escape free porn video

Doc's Complex 09 - Escape by Lee Most Copyright 2012 by Lee Most -------------------------------------------------------------- Synopsis: Chapter 9 of the FMNaNoWriMo challenge novel "Doc's Complex." Doc wants everyone to be a buxom, beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman, so what do you think he did to a mindless idiot who raped and killed one of his Girls? This chapter can be read as a stand-alone short story. Categories and key words describe only this chapter. I'm concentrating on writing now, so I won't edit mistakes or respond to any reviews until December. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Doc's Complex 09 - Escape He escaped. He had finally escaped that crazy place. It had taken him some time to realize that they never locked the door when he was fully dressed the way they wanted him to look. Only when he was naked, or dressed like he used to dress. He knew who he was. "My name is Mark. I am a man, and I am dressed like a pretty young woman." Why did they make him wear women's clothing - and such old-fashioned stuff at that? They made him dress like his mother! They had made him put on a long white cotton shift, and then had strait- laced him into such a tight corset that he could only breathe in shallow puffs from only his chest, and his stomach was compressed and immobile. There were shoulder straps on the corset that kept his shoulders pulled back so he could not adopt his usual, slouching posture. They had put thick pads into the corset's cups, and pulled up the compressed skin of his chest to make it look like he had breasts, and then pulled a long petticoat over his head. They had done that to him before, and he had always taken it right off again, but today, he did not know why, he let them put it on to see what they would do next. It was like a white dress with a skirt made of lots of ruffles. He did not know why he had always fought so hard about wearing it before. It was stupid, but it was just clothes. Over the first petticoat, they put two more on him, and then they put on the blue dress. He had ripped the first dresses they had tried to put on him, and he was not sure why he had hated them so much. Maybe it was because they were red. His mother had always said that girls who wore red were bad girls. As he walked, he thought about that girl he had fucked last night. She had worn a red dress. She had been pretty, and didn't want to talk to him, so he had followed her to that building and watched her go in, and he hid outside until she came out again, and he had grabbed her hand and pulled her around the side. She kept saying she did not want to go with him, but he knew all about that. Girls always said things like that. It was because they were playing hard to get. He'd heard that somewhere. Girls really wanted men to fuck them, but they had to pretend to play hard to get. It made no sense to him, but a lot of things about the world made no sense to him. There was a big pile of straw in the back of the building that they used for the horses, and he took her there. That girl played hard to get so much that he ended up carrying her. Then he ripped the top of her red dress and grabbed her tits. "Dat's what ya call foreplay," he told her, "I heard dat someplace," and she got so silent and opened up her pretty blue eyes so wide that he thought she was really impressed by that long speech. He'd heard that girls really liked it when ya talked to them, so she must have liked that a lot. Then, she took a long breath and started making a lot of noise. He had heard someone talk about how much he liked the girls who screamed during sex, and that guy would have liked all the girls he had found because they always screamed. Every single one of them. He didn't like it, when they did that. It was really loud and annoying, but he had discovered that they made less if he covered their mouths with his hand, and this one was no different. After the foreplay, he pulled ripped the rest of her dress off and pulled down her panties. Girls clothes were made of a really flimsy kind of cloth that ripped so easily! They probably wore it so men like him could rip it off easier so they could have sex. She was still making an annoying noise through her nose, so he tried a trick he had figured out that had worked on several other girls. With his one hand on her mouth, he used his other hand to squeeze her nostrils shut, and he waited until she stopped making so much noise, and (this was the trick) he kept waiting a little while longer until that glassy look came into her eyes. That meant she was calm and wouldn't fight no more. Then he could take his hands away and use both of them for other things. So he squeezed her tits some more and then he fucked her. He even kissed her on the mouth a couple of times. He'd heard that girls liked that, too, but he didn't know why. It was kind of disgusting in a way. Weren't there supposed to be Germans in other people's mouths? He knew we were at war with the Germans, whatever they were, and that there were micro-something Germans that made people sick, so sick that they even died, so they must be bad. Maybe they were invisible like ghosts. He saw a movie about ghosts, once, and they had just been people with sheets over their heads. He had looked around, but there were no people with sheets over their heads, so after he'd fucked her and came in her, she seemed asleep, but he felt kind of tired himself, so he didn't blame her. She looked kind of messy, all black and blue, but that was true of all the other girls, too, so he figured maybe that's what happens to a girl when you fuck her. It was funny how a couple of days after he'd fucked the last girl, someone told him she'd been raped and killed by a psychopath, whatever that was. He knew what "killed" meant, and whatever "raped" meant, it also sounded bad. He figured that a psychopath was some kind of dangerous animal like a lion or a tiger or something, and he hope that they caught it and put it back in the zoo. So he'd covered the sleeping girl with her red dress, and walked away very quietly so he wouldn't wake her up. He was considerate that way. They must have given him drugs. He'd heard drugs made it hard to think, and he could think clearer now. Why had they kept putting girls' clothes on him? After the dress, they had put long stockings on him and held them up with garters, and then put women's boots on his feet. He still had them on. They had a lot of holes and a complicated arrangement of laces that went back and forth a lot of times, even more than six. He was not good with numbers, but more than six was really a lot, and his girl boots had way more than six criss-crosses of the laces going from the ends almost all the way up to his knees. And it was tied with a complicated knot at the top that had two loops and two long strings hanging down. It was hopeless. He would never get them off. They had done something to his hair. It must be a wig that was glued on, because when he tried to pull off all that hair, it felt like pulling on his own hair. How could it be his own hair? He was a man. Men had short hair. Only girls had long hair. There was something else, something he should know about long hair, but he could not remember. Anyway, they had made his hair, or wig, or whatever it was all curly and complicated, and it had complicated metal comb things holding it in place like his mother used to use. He had about as much hope understanding them as he did undoing that knot at the tops of his boots. They had made him practice walking in these shoes for a long time. It was hard because the heels were small and raised him up a little and he kept wobbling. He did not like it when things changed. Change was scary. He thought they might have dressed him like that before, but he did not know how that could be possible, since they had only brought him there last night. Everything he did since they took him to that place was kind of lost in a fog. Then they were going to put a weird helmet on his head with wires going into a box, and he tricked them and rushed out the door as fast as he could. Now he walked around the street a few blocks away, trying to think about what to do next. He'd never had this problem before, so why now? What did he used to do before they came and took him to that horrible place? He'd hung around the pool hall a lot, even though he could not play as well as the other guys. As well as? Now that he thought about it, he had never won a single game, and the other guys had always laughed a lot when he tried. They had laughed the most when he lost to that little furry guy, but that game had lasted all afternoon and he had gotten really close to getting more balls in the pockets than the little furry guy. Wait. The zoo. Furry guy. That furry guy was some kind of monkey! Maybe the guys in the bar had given him drugs, too? He had always had a hard time thinking around them. Or did he always have a hard time thinking? Going to the zoo seemed like a good idea. He did not have any money, so he walked, and he walked. And he walked. After a while, he realized he had to go to the bathroom, so he went into a bar and asked to use the bathroom. The young man behind the bar pointed toward the back. He saw the sign that said, "MEN,"and headed toward it, but the bartender shouted, "Hey lady! The Ladies Room is on the left!" Mark was about to protest, but he realized that the man was probably fooled by this dress and his girly hairstyle, and the way they had made him look like he had boobs. He sighed, and went into the Ladies Room. Inside, he wanted to go, but there were so many layers of skirts and petticoats to push aside, and he knew he could never get the corset off, and he really had to go! He could not just stand in front of the toilet and piss. It took him forever to figure out how to get under all those skirts, pull down his panties, and finally get his bare butt down onto the toilet seat, before he could let go at last. Then he had to put everything back together again. Doc and four of those pretty nurses were waiting for him outside the bar. ---------------------------------------------------------------- He escaped. He went through the door when he'd finished dressing - and "dressing" it was, with a tight girdle, a bra, falsies, a slip, stockings, a dress, makeup, pierced earrings, a necklace, and bracelets, not to mention the fancy high-heeled lace-up boots he had to wear. He'd counted thirty eyelets on each side before the laces were tied in a bow at the top! It had taken him fifteen minutes to learn how to walk in those inch and a half high heels without stumbling or almost falling. They also had him wearing what must be a wig and long, false fingernails. It would take time for his hair to grow as long as the hair of this wig, and for his fingernails to grow this long and he had only been there one day. As he walked, he looked at the real girls he passed. They had short hair and short dresses and furry coats. He saw one wearing a red dress, and thought about that girl he had fucked last night... ---------------------------------------------------------------- He escaped. They had left the door unlocked, so when he'd seen the weird helmet, he'd been able to dash out before they could stop him. It was a good thing he'd had several minutes to practice walking in these ridiculous shoes with their two-inch-high heels. He'd also been made to wear a tight girdle and a bra with thickly padded cups, and layer after layer of women's clothing on top of it. Then those four nurses stood over him while he had to paint his long nails red, and put on makeup and curl his long hair. How had his nails and hair grown so long in just one night? They had also made him put on earrings, bracelets, and a necklace. He had seen himself in the mirror after they had finished making him dress up this way, and knew that no one would suspect he was really a man under these clothes, but how had they persuaded him to dress this way in the first place? There were gaps in his memory. He remembered the girl he had fucked the night before, and then leaving afterward, and the next thing he remembered was being awakened this morning by those four nurses. Had he blacked out and been captured? He remembered some other time (Was it last night?) when the nurses had rubbed some cream all over his naked body and it had removed all his hair. How could he have been so stupid as to let them do that to him? Maybe they had drugged him? Then, the next morning, this morning... Mark had been walking for some time now. That large glass of water had been a mistake. He went into a bar and asked for the bathroom. His voice came out high-pitched and squeaky, and although he knew he was really a man, his voice sounded like that of a woman. The barman seemed to recognize him, although he'd never even been to this part of town before. "The LADIES Room is on the left, LADY," he said pointedly emphasizing the words "Ladies" and "Lady," as if Mark would be so stupid as to use the Men's Room while dressed like this! Doc and his four pretty nurses were waiting for him outside the bar. ---------------------------------------------------------------- He escaped. He wondered why he had not thought of it sooner. But, then, he couldn't very well have gone out naked, could he? And now he was wearing clothes of the wrong sex, but at least he had gotten out of there. Doc had stood by with that grim expression on his face as his two nurses had made him wear a tight girdle which flattened his penis and testicles against his abdomen, and had him pull stockings up his long, silky- smooth, manly legs and fasten them to his garter straps. They had made him put a bra on his hairless, masculine chest. How humiliating! "Well, at least it's the fashionable kind of bra," he consoled himself, looking down at the way it shaped his chest into two sharp points. Well, at least they had not made him wear women's makeup with all his women's clothing. He just had on the stuff he always wore: a little lipstick to make his mouth more striking, a touch of eye shadow and highlighter to make his eyes look bigger, some mascara for that sparkly- eyed effect he always liked, some eyebrow pencil to define the curve of his thin, masculine eyebrows, and a few shades of blush to make his cheekbones look a little higher. Then, after he'd spent almost twenty minutes brushing and combing his long beautiful hair before they had come in, they had made him put pink butterfly barrettes in his hair. Pink! He was a man! Couldn't they have given him blue butterflies? He'd then been made to wear this woman's dress, not a masculine blouse and skirt combination. He had protested loudly at putting on these three- inch-high heels, although he knew as well as the two nurses that wearing heels made his legs look as sexy as a man's legs could look. For some reason, he had the weird thought that he would have trouble walking in shoes with heels two and a half inches high, but when he stood up he only wobbled a little for a couple of minutes before he was as steady in them as he was in sneakers. That was how he was able to run out of the door so quickly when they brought in that strangely shaped helmet. He'd had his hair done at the salon dozens of times, and he'd knew what a hair dryer looked like, and that chair with that helmet was no hair dryer! He thought of the girl he'd fucked last night, before all this started. Was there a connection? He thought some more. Holding mouth and nose. Eyes glazed. Pool hall. Rapist. Killer. Psychopath. Zoo? No, some kind of mental patient. Maybe one of them escaped. Escaped. He'd escaped. Escaping. Walking out the door. The way they had come to get him last night. He could think so clearly now, but why had he not known they were after him until they grabbed him? Had HE killed that girl? The others? But they had looked so peaceful! And it had felt good! Death was something that hurt a lot, wasn't it? Wasn't it? Someone coming towards him on the street was looking at him, staring, looking him up and down. As they got closer to each other, he could see the man looking down at his chest through his open neckline, and at his legs. His manly chest and his masculine legs! They were exposed! He should have found a coat of something to hide them. The guy would now suspect he wasn't a girl. How could he have been so stupid? He had to walk like a girl, pretend to be a girl with masculine legs and a manly chest. How did girls walk? He'd never noticed. He looked into the guy's eyes and smiled, embarrassed. The man smiled at him when he got within a few feet, and he saw the guy's eyes flicker up and down, looking at his eyes, his chest, his waist, his chest, his eyes and back down...and kept walking past him. "Whew!" Mark (Nancy) sighed with relief. That was funny. He'd noticed that before. Whenever he thought of his name, Mark (Nancy), there was a sort of echoing thought of a girl's name, Nancy. And all of the people back at that strange house had called him Nancy all night. It must have been last night, because he'd only been there one night. Hadn't he? Now he was not sure anymore. It was as if a mental fog had filled his head before today, letting him see only parts of ideas at a time, impossible to see the larger picture. He knew he had been there only one night, yet he also remembered seeing those nurses on other days. How could that be? And he knew his name was Mark (Nancy) because his name had always been Mark (Nancy) ever since he was a little boy (girl) playing with his toy trucks (dolls) and he could even remember his mother calling in that singsong voice, "Mark (Nancy), Mark (Nancy) dinner's ready!" It was as if he had two sets of memories, of being a boy (girl) named Mark (Nancy), and of being a girl named Nancy, and he was a little scared of being a girl named Nancy. He did not know why that would be bad, but he tried to think of another time someone had called him Mark (Nancy), like perhaps in the pool hall. But they had laughed a lot at him when they said it. Maybe they were laughing at the monkey, because they were his friends and his friends would not laugh at him, would they? Maybe the monkey's name was Mark! There was no echo correcting that thought with a girl's name. Mark the monkey. Or were they saying Mark (Nancy) AND the monkey? It was that fog. He just could not remember. What was wrong with his memory? Last night was only there in bits and snatches, and before last night, everything was fuzzy. Even the way he had thought. He thought he thought more clearly now, but how could he know for sure? Maybe he just thought he thought better. That thought seemed funny with all those "thoughts" in there, and he made a little song, "I thought I thought a thought so well, but then I thought I could not tell!" and sung it to himself in his masculine soprano voice. He had to go to the bathroom. Ah! There was a bar. Mark (Nancy) went inside, his heels clicking on the floor. He didn't have to ask. A large sign said "LADIES" over one of the doors, mounted so it could be seen from the front door the minute he entered. He thought it was new for some reason, but when he got to the door, he looked up and saw that the sign was old and dusty, like it had been there for years. ---------------------------------------------------------------- He escaped. It wasn't hard. He'd tried before, but the door was always locked. This morning he'd awaked in a girl's room. Everything about it was girly. Pink everywhere, cushions, lace, dolls, a makeup table, a closet full of girl clothes, it was like a little girl's version of heaven or something. Or a big girl, he'd thought after noticing that all the clothes were for an adult girl. A woman. Adult girls were called women. Silly. He knew that! The door was locked, so he sat down at the makeup table and removed the red nail polish from his long fingernails and painted on a different color. He glanced at the dresses in the closet and decided on a pink polish that matched the silly poodle on a jitterbug skirt. "I'll bet my nails are longer than anyone else's at the dance tonight," Nancy thought as he blew on his nails to try to make them dry faster. When he had waited a whole five minutes, he carefully turned on the pink radio and modern rock and roll music blared out. He waved his hands rocked back and forth so his ponytail swung from side to side in time to the music, as he waited through a whole song for his nails to be really dry before putting on his second coat. He happily waved his fingers and swung his hair through three more songs before he felt it was safe to do other things without ruining his nails. He put on makeup, brushed out his hair and put it back in a ponytail with a pink ribbon, and added some earrings and other jewelry before letting the twin masses on his masculine chest slip out of the two built-in bra cups of his lacy peignoir, and quickly got them into the cups of a long- line bra. He knew how proud other men were of their large chests, but surely he had one of the largest chests of anyone he knew. He measured around the largest part, and he had a 38-inch chest! Who in the dance hall was more masculine than that? Why the largest girl there only was a 34C, and his bra had D cups. What was more masculine than that? Not only that, he remembered with pride, he was an inch shorter than any of them. He's bet that not any of them was less than five feet two inches, and he was five-one. He was prettier than they were, too. He pulled on a pair of panties and although he did not tuck his penis in between his legs (Why did he even think he would do that?) it made hardly a bump, and one so small that it would not show once he finished getting dressed. He put a garter belt around his small waist and pulled on some stockings. That poodle skirt had his name on it! It was just his style, and without wondering what the girl would think who lived in this room, he put it on and also took one of her white blouses and a thin pink cardigan sweater. He did not wonder why all the girl's clothes fit his masculine body so perfectly. On the floor in her closet, he looked through her shoe collection and chose a pair of darling pink sandals with three-inch-high heels and flowers on the buckles. He put them on, and danced to the next song in them, pretending he had a partner swinging him through the twirls and steps of the Jitterbug. Looking at them as he kicked his leg high, he noticed, "These sandals have open toes, and the polish on my toes doesn't match. I'd better redo my toenails!" Another half an hour, and he was ready to face the day! Doc came in through the door, holding it open for one of his sexy girls dressed in a short, form-fitting nurse's uniform. She pushed in a chair with a helmet mounted. Nancy eyed her critically and did not like what he saw. Unlike the ordinary girls at the dance hall, this one obviously wore a much bigger bra than he did! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Doc had left and the door was slightly ajar. Then he noticed that the chair, which at first looked like a salon hair dryer, was nothing of the sort. The helmet had little pads that would press against the head of whoever was wearing it, and there was a thick cable going from the helmet to a large reel-to-reel tape deck mounted on the back of the chair. The "nurse" had her back turned to him, so he tiptoed to the door and then simply walked out. Boys were so much smarter than girls! Take that girl last night...well, maybe that wasn't such a good example. Maybe those others...? He thought about them and then wondered if it was possible to make someone smarter overnight. They talked about something called brainwashing sometimes at the dance hall, but wasn't that something that spies did to each other? And it was supposed to take weeks or even months, and it was only last night that he had taken that girl behind that building. There had been a monkey yesterday, too. He remembered the boys in the back laughing about a monkey beating someone named Mark in a game of pool. Nancy remembered seeing the monkey across a green table, but where was this Mark guy? And how had a monkey beat him anyway? People were smarter than monkeys! As he walked on the sidewalk trying to be cool, two men walked toward him, looking him over from ponytail to poodle skirt to pink toenails. Nancy was a little nervous at how thoroughly they looked at him. He was only eighteen, and they looked so old, almost thirty. "They can't possibly know that I've escaped, so why are they looking at me?" Then, as they passed, one of them squeezed Nancy's ass with his huge hand and said, "How about a date, beautiful?" Then they both laughed together as they continues walking away behind Nancy. Nancy felt disgusted. They were two men walking together, and they saw a young, good-looking man all by himself. They must be homosexual lovers, and they were suggesting that he participate in their deviant sex games! He wished he could erase even the memory of the pervert's hand on his butt. He kept walking, his face still blushing red a block later. He walked on and on, angrily muttering to himself, until finally he cooled off and could think clearly again. He passed a bar. Something about it...? No, he kept walking. He got to the corner and realized that he had to go to the bathroom. There did not seem to be any likely place in any forward direction, so he went back to the bar... ---------------------------------------------------------------- The sun streaming into her window awakened Nancy, and she woke up refreshed. "Ah, what a beautiful day," she said as she stretched her arms up and sideways and back, her large breasts thrusting out her see-thru baby-doll nightgown an impressive amount. "And what a night!" Then she frowned, a cute pout on her feminine lips. What HAD happened last night? She pondered the question as she got herself ready for the day. First she took a few minutes to soak in a bubble bath. After drying herself with a big fluffy towel, she powdered herself all over, especially under her bust line. She had protected her hair from the water, of course, but now removed the large curlers she'd slept in and with a little hair spray and a brush she arranged her hair so it had a cute flip at the bottom just missing her shoulders. It would stay that way as long as she did not touch it or mess with it. "Why did I think I had to remind myself of that? I've been using hair spray forever." An image of looking in a mirror and seeing a face with no makeup and short hair. "Or have I? When did I start using hair spray to manage my hairdos?" Then she had to redo her nails. They had grown since she'd last done them...when? She could not remember ever having done them before, but here they were, each almost an inch long. She remembered her mother telling her, "Those who never work, but play, have time to grow their nails all day." "Well, I certainly haven't been playing, but I haven't been working either. What have I been doing?" This morning was full of unanswerable questions. Her hair and nails dry, she put on some clothes. It didn't matter what she wore. She could even put on the clothes she had on yesterday. Well, the t-shirt and jeans she'd worn yesterday would not, wait, WAS it yesterday, though? She remembered being as flat-chested as a pre-teen then, but that wasn't possible, Strange, though. She'd have to ask Doc about it next time she saw him. Shaking her head at all the silly thoughts she was having, she put on a bra and panties, thinking how much the boys in the back room of the dance hall would love to get at what those thin barriers protected. She giggled at the way she could tease them with even a hint of what she had hidden inside her clothes. She finished getting dressed, quickly pulling on some pantyhose, a pink and purple striped bodysuit and the tiniest miniskirt she had, still thinking about teasing those boys. For jewelry, she hung some Mod plastic beads round her neck so they hung between her breasts, and matching earrings made of orange and green flat pieces of plastic, as well at a whole bunch of bangle bracelets. Holding her breath, she unwrapped the newest addition to her footwear collection, a package from Fredericks of Hollywood, whose catalogue contained such daring clothing she had never dared actually purchase any before. She opened the box, and exhaled a squeal of delight as she saw the heels of her new pumps. The catalog had exclaimed, "Almost 5-inch heels!" and now they were here in her hands, pointy toes, faux alligator faux leather, a green color that went with nothing in her wardrobe except her plastic earrings, but they looked so damn SEXY! She slipped them on her feet and practiced walking around her room in them until she was sure she would not fall or twist her ankle. The radio, always on in the background, had been playing a bunch of commercials, but now that silly song "Wooly Bully" came on and she started doing the Mashed Potato to it, which was easy to segue into the Twist, when Chubby Checker's song came on next. She was still Twisting when one of Doc's Girls came in with a chair that looked like something out of a horror movie. It had straps on the armrests and legs. It had a helmet with lots of wires all over it. The helmet was mounted on a pole attached to the back of the chair so it could go up and down. At the back of the helmet the wires gathered into a cable that connected to a box under the left arm of the chair and on the right side a panel with lots of buttons, dials, and lights would be available if the person sitting there did not have her arm strapped down. Nancy was curious. "What is that thing? An electric chair?" The Girl laughed, "No, Nancy. It's a teaching machine. It teaches you skills and increases your ability to learn. You don't remember, but you have used it many times. Doc is a mad scientist, as you know, and one of the things he is mad about is the safety of us, his Girls. Your concept of time isn't developed yet. How long is a really really long time to you? What is the longest amount of time you can think of?" "What's longer than a month?" "A year." "That's it. A year is, like, almost forever, right?" "Yes, a year is a very long time, Nancy, and you were brought here more than a year ago. And back then you were a complete idiot, psychologically speaking, with some very wrong ideas about how the world worked, do you understand?" "I guess so." She tried to think of an example to prove that she did, and looked down at her shoes. "You mean like not knowing that green and orange don't really go together?" The Girl stared at Nancy with disbelief for a second, and then licked her lips. "No, even worse ideas than that." "Worse than that? Wow." "Yes, wow. Well, based on those wrong ideas, you," she looked up at the ceiling, wondering if she should ask Doc for help. "You hurt one of Doc's Girls right behind this building, and Doc found you and took you inside. You've been here ever since, except a few times when you got out." "I remember someone said I escaped once." "Yes, but you came back here, and your intelligence has slowly increased over time. Today is a new milestone. This is the first time I've brought the chair in when instead of reacting by going into an unthinking 'fight or flight' mode, you have responded with curiosity, letting your mind rule your actions instead of your reptilian sub-brain. Your intelligence is now as high as an, a, well, a six-year-old child's, and Doc thinks you can eventually be able to join our society as a brilliant grown up woman." "A year," Nancy wondered. "Why don't I have any memories of it? A whole year! It seems such a waste." "Ha! Talk about wastes! You should have seen yourself when you first came here. The only thing you were able to do well was to kill and rape a woman, and now you are one! So, have a seat, and tomorrow you'll wake up even smarter!" She waved her hand at the machine. Nancy pondered what she'd just been told for a lot longer than a normal person would have, but the other woman was patient. Finally, Nancy spoke. "Uh, alright, I'll sit in it, but only if you take off those straps." She did so and Nancy sat down under the helmet. ----------------------------------------------- To Be Continued! ----------------------------------------------- Author's note: This chapter spans much more time than a single year. I tried to give hints in each section about when that particular escape took place, if you are interested in such things. I have so many story ideas about the Complex that I don't want the whole novel to be just about the group of men we met in chapter 1. I will get back to them next time, but there will also be other breaks with other things that Doc has done, or that happened in other parts of Doc's Complex. Comments welcome, but I won't be answering any until after NaNoWriMo is over. I'm writing this novel as part of the 2012 NaNoWriMo challenge to write a novel of at least 50,000 words between November 1st and 30th. 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! The Complex has over 500 Levels, is populated by millions of beautiful, buxom, sexy, intelligent women (and a few thousand men,) more than half of whom are scientists. If there's a science fiction or feminist plot clich?, you can find it there somewhere! You have my permission to post your version on FictionMania. To avoid confusion, add a letter to the chapter #, like "Doc's Complex 09a", and make up a new title. Who knows? If enough people do it, FictionMania may add a new category!