"Don't worry, lady," Roger said, trying to calm her. "It'll be all right. You must have expected a little adventure – companionship – love! when you answered the ad! Didn't you?"
"No! No! Of course, not. No!" Helen would deny to the end that she was seeking adventure, companionship, friendship, maybe love. She would deny everything to the end if necessary.
Inside his adjoining control room, Adam flicked off the intercom. He just couldn't listen to the beginning of the whole thing, and his splitting headache and generally depressed state caused him to keep his head on his arms, knowing that the boys would do all right without any guidance from him. The instruments would be attached and his recording devises would take over. No need for him to watch every detail. He was in no mood for it.
Meanwhile in the living room, Hank grew annoyed with Helen's carrying on.
"Hey, cut the crap! Anybody that reads junky paper and answers an ad, knows what's happening!"
"Not necessarily," Roger interjected, "however, I am inclined to believe that the possibility of total innocence under the circumstances is rather dim."
"Oh my God, you're all maniacs!" Helen exclaimed at the top of her lungs.
"If you mean we're all students at the university, then you're right there!" Ben said.
"Hey, maybe she wants some booze. Want a drink to make you feel better?" Ben asked, reaching for the flask that the boys had been taking slugs from.
"We're not going to do anything to hurt you, Miss," Roger said pleasantly. "You might as well calm down. As I said, the professor will be in shortly, and meanwhile, you can be uh, entertained by us! It's all a part of the experiment, you see."
Helen tried to see. She wanted desperately to understand, and to see the whole thin in some light other than the sinister one that covered the entire difficulty in which she found herself.
Ben passed the flask to Roger, who offered it to Helen.
Tentatively, her features ash white, Helen took the flask and sniffed it.
"Old Tennis Shoes bourbon," Ben said proudly. "Nothing but the best."
"I'll just have a taste," Helen said, gulping at the silver nozzle. The warm liquid seemed to heal the raw terror inside her and she took more.
"Drink it all if you want. We can go more!"
She did, gulping several swallows of the warm bourbon which did not burn, but slid smoothly down her throat.
"Isn't that better now?" Roger took her by the arm and led the young blonde wife toward the bed. "Come sit down," he said, seeing that Helen was nervously coming along with him. "There, don't be upset. We're just here to help science!" His fingers were moving, caressing her arm as he helped her across the room. At first Helen felt her flesh crawl at this strange young man's touch as she again searched her brain for words that might get them to release her from the room. Was she really a prisoner, or was she just imagining the worst? She couldn't tell. Fantasy had played such a large part in the 35-year-old blonde's life, that now she did not know whether she could trust her own instincts. But then a repulsively shocking thing occurred, a strange, indescribable phenomenon sent a million pin pricks of erotically tingling sensation throughout her being. At the same time, she reached the bed, and feeling dizzy, sat down upon it. Instantly, Hank moved forward and touched her warmly quivering breast with his hands, caressing its firm fullness.
Helen's eyes felt heavy and the tingling made her grab at her own breasts, as much to push the boy's hands away as to touch herself.
"Oh?" she moaned. She felt so funny. Just like she had when she saw Andre worshipping the secret flesh up between her legs.
"That fuck-juice sure works. She looks half-looped already."
"Well, the prof said it would work if we ever needed it!"
"Yeah, she might never have come around otherwise, even if she is wearing 'fuck-me' shoes!"
"What? What?" Helen could hear their voices coming from what seemed like a great distance. She stared, wide-eyed, trying to see them all better, but something like a haze of smoke covered her eyes. She was filled with a sense of alarm and erotic excitement that caused her vaginal lips to swell and begin throbbing in expectation. They had given her something, something that was changing her consciousness, and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing at all! All the while the sensations, at first diffuse and unsettling, and then growing more and more precise, filled her, swirled up and down her spine, and throughout her weakened nervous system.
"Oh dear, dear God. Let me go all of you, let me go, I'm a married woman!"
"Don't be scared. Bet this will make your husband hot for you tonight. The effects linger, I'm told!" Roger was moving closer. They were all moving closer as the drugged young wife stared at them open-mouthed, disbelieving, a furry sensation taking hold of her tongue making it thick and unwieldy as she tried to speak. Then they were all undoing their belts, letting down their pants, taking off underwear. Her glazed eyes took in the lewd sight of their virilely throbbing penises of varying sizes, standing out straight and hard, seemingly pointing at her accusingly.
"Oh no. No no!" she gasped.
"Shall we help you with your clothes?" Roger asked politely. Helen was gazing at the thick hardness of his long uncircumcised cock. She tried to speak but she couldn't. The blonde captive's words gathered in her throat and then stuck there. She was helpless! They were beginning to take her clothes off!
"I get to fuck her first!" Hank annaunced.
"Says who?" Ben spat out. "Christ get a look at them boobs!" Little by little all of her clothes were going. Soon she would be naked in the room with the three college boys. Helen tried to stand up, vague thoughts of fleeing still circling round in her brain, even though she knew it was impossible. But the boys just moved along with her, and her standing, helped them to get her panties and stockings off, while they began to caress her nakedly trembling breasts, buttocks, and loins. Then they pushed her back down, and Helen found herself staring up at the ceiling. Oh Christ, they were all looking at her, going to do to her what they wanted, what she, Lord help her, wanted them to do!
"Wow! Now that's a real woman!" Ben said, whistling through his teeth. His lustfully throbbing penis lurched impatiently.
"Damned straight!" Hank agreed. "Dig that sweet little pussy. Old peter boy here can't wait to get into that!"
"Wait until I attach the instruments," Roger declared.
At that point Helen felt the horrid sensations of electrodes being attached to her skin. Not knowing what they were added to her fear and discomfort. Alarmed at what was happening, the terrified young blonde squealed and tried to twist away, but the three college students held her firmly until all the instruments were in place. Now her every reaction would be recorded for posterity according to Dr. Randolph. Then they were bending over her, grinning lewdly down at her forced wide, nakedly spread-eagled loins. As she cringed inward, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Helen felt the young man begin a slow lascivious stroking around her thighs, concentrating on the sensitive inner parts, moving steadily, rotating their fingers in small circles against her trembling flesh. Helen jerked but it only served to cause the college boys to exclaim lewdly at the jiggling of her large quivering breasts.
"Shit! Let me get my mouth on them babies!" Hank cried, at which point he kneeled up beside the nakedly struggling housewife on the bed and, leaning over, took one large thick nipple in his mouth while caressing the other with the thumb and forefinger of his hands. Helen felt a wave of nausea overtaking her along with her disbelief that this could really be happening to her. It felt as if she were going out of her mind, what with all the new chemical changes that were being made in her mind and body, adding to her already disturbed state, her precarious balance. She couldn't bear the thought of them touching her defenselessly naked body. Yet their fingers were moving on her, Hank's hungry mouth was wet, his teeth hard upon her tightly contracted nipples. Slowly hut surely someone was moving upward to tantalize the tender parts of her wide-spread vagina. It was Roger, teasing his middle finger lewdly around the fevered lips of the older wombats wetly throbbing cunt. Then he was letting it work upward along the narrow hair-lined passage until it reached her erect little clitoris. There Helen felt the hardened nerve bud jerk to involuntary attention. Why would anyone do this to her? Oh God! She felt as if she would die from the carnally tantalizing caresses if they continued, and at the same time felt as though she would die if they ever stopped. A struggle was taking place within her over which she had little control it seemed. Roger concentrated down there at the very center of the 35-year-old blonde's titillated nerve endings. Meanwhile, he called to Ben who was standing nearby. "What's the matter? Waiting for a written invitation?"