Chapter 8: Friction

The man pulled a wagon along when he reappeared. She could trace a rigid shape sitting inside it but couldn’t tell what it was. He stopped next to her, reached out his hands and picked up the used syringe. He drained more fluid into the instrument, but this time, it was different. The suctioned liquid came from a Petri dish instead of a bottle. As he poked her skin, the sharp needle punctured her groin, once in the left leg and another in the right. The syringe was completely empty after two injections.

“Any moment now…” said the man while looking at his watch.

A minute late, like a slug in salt, her legs jerked followed by random spasms. She became immediately confused and scared. Her legs weren’t numb because she could feel the cuffs around her legs and feet. But, something was off. She couldn’t move them. Her legs just sat on the table. She focused all her attention to her lower body, but it futile. There was no movement.

When her legs stopped trembling after another minute, the man picked up a screwdriver and unbolted the restraints on her thighs and feet. He had freed her lower body, but freedom didn’t matter if she couldn’t move her legs.

“You’re smart so you’ll know I’m about to say. Do you know what an interneuron is? It’s a middleman between two different nerves. Essentially, that’s how we control our body and feel things. If I pinch your clit like this…” she winced. “… you can feel it. But your body won’t react to it.”

Her Biology lectures flashed in her mind as she pieced together the mystery. Nevertheless, it still didn’t make sense; she was still very confused. If she could feel her legs, she should be able to move them. Unless…

“Yes, the motor neurons” interrupted the man.

“Something has happened to them. Your legs are half-dead. Well, not exactly the legs, but some stuff inside is somewhat dead. Ah I take that back. They’re not exactly dead. They’re just stiff. It’s amazing what people will sell you for a decent amount of money. It’s not drug that I injected in you. It’s virus. The liquid contained synthetic viruses that take over your motor neurons and corrupt them. Long explanation short, signals go from your legs to your head, but not the other way around. Also, you won’t be walking forever.”

She thought to herself that this was crazy. But, she knew anything was possible for this maniac. She tried to kick him desperate for an opening but her limbs stayed dead.

Intent to continue, the man pulled her legs apart and bent her right knee. He reached out to the ceiling and pulled down what looked like a hook attached to a think rope. Next, he crouched and grabbed two belts, the kind used to hold down saddles on horses, from under the table. He wrapped one on her right thigh and slipped the hook into the belt hole that gave the rope most tension. He pulled down another hook and did the same with her left leg. Essentially, her thighs were lifted up in the air, her legs and shins limping down and feet on the table beneath her. She was in a compromising position. The man had clear view of her jewel box and the puffy lips surrounding it. She had no time to feel embarrassed because more than her exposed flaps, she was more concerned with the man now having full access to them.

He wasn’t quite done yet. He crouched and grabbed a pair of boots from under the table and slipped them of her feet. An 18-inch bar connected the boots. A hole in the middle of the bar was used to bolt the bar down on the table. The footwear, hooks and belts were doing a fine job forcing her body into missionary position. Bright light shone between her legs on her innocent pubic that glistened with moisture and slightly opened with soft shades of red and pink. Curious, the man slid his forefinger into her wet opening. His finger went in with little effort, displacing the lubricant pooling inside with a soft splish. Finding nothing new, he pulled out his hand. Woman honey, which normally stretches an inch or two was stringing on his fingers. He pulled his hand out slowly… 2, 3, 4… 9 inches before it finally snapped. Some stuck on his finger that he had to flick it off clean.

“You sure are unique!” exclaimed the man as he went on with the next step.

Whatever was coming next, didn’t sound less terrifying. She couldn’t look down to see what was happening nor check what the man was doing. The cuff around her neck forced her to look at the ceiling. She rolled her eyes downwards and still her field of vision was limited. She suddenly hear a loud “Clang!” The man was doing something below her. All she could make out were sounds of metals, screws and bolts.

She saw the man toss a wrench into the tray before feeling something big being forced inside her, something unreasonably large and thick. Her unaroused genital didn’t give easy entrance to this thing. She could feel her labia tearing. It wasn’t just big; it was long too. A woman’s vagina can stretch many times its resting length when stimulated. This natural system allows couples of the primitive species to copulate with ease.

She knew her snatch has stretched its limit. The thing had penetrated deep inside her body. She felt the tip touch the collar enclosing her chamber. She braced for impact in fear that it will push pass her cherry, but that didn’t happen. It stopped moving. It just stayed there, occupying her canal.

After a while, she heard a humming. She clenched her jaws in dread of her vagina befalling the same tragedy as her shredded breast. But, the sound died down as the man giggled, “Oh right, I haven’t told you what this is.”

“So, what you feel inside is a pole. A long rod. That’s it. Nothing else. Just a long metal rod. What’s attached to it is the fun part”

She glanced at the wagon he brought earlier and found it was empty.

“Last week, when I was walking around a construction yard, I saw a construction worker with a jackhammer. That’s when a brilliant idea came to me. Why don’t I jackhammer into you?!”

Suddenly, her heart jumped a beat and her breaths became pants. She forced her legs to shut her groin, but they were as limp as noodles. Her legs didn’t work so she tried to contract her vulva to see if she could push out the thing. Her tender muscles gripped the rod tighter, doing the opposite of what she had expected.

“It’s a little different from the usual jackhammer. My supplier said a normal one is boring. So, he sent me this one. The rod is 12 inches and looks like your pussy is swallowing up 10. Splendid! The machine works similarly to a jackhammer except it retracts the rod’s full length at a set rate. It’s also held down to the table so you don’t have to worry about it moving around too much.” He flipped the machine on again. The motor whirled.

She convulsed every inch of her body in panic, attempting to free herself from the moving arm. Before she could try something else, she felt the metal inside her move. It started slow. As the thing left her inner passage, her sensitive wall collapsed inwards from the strain of forcibly stretching. The rod drove inside again, leaving no time for her walls to relax and stopped upon touching the door to her chamber. With every thrust, every breath in her body became rapid and sporadic. Soon the machine picked up speed and the moving action became very rapid. It got faster and faster until she could feel only vibrations inside her. On every retraction, the rod pulled out her stringy fluid, splattering them on the table. Because the arm moved in rapid motion, her fountain gushed lubricant like volcano during peak eruption.

She wasn’t feeling any pain from the smooth rod ramming her inside. It’s because her body was doing an excellent job evening out the friction with her natural grease, preventing her epithelia linings from tearing. She knew too well that this wouldn’t last forever: the water exiting her body wasn’t appearing out of nowhere magically.

Soon she began to feel the side effects of constant secretion. Her throat parched up and her lips cracked from dehydration. Suddenly, the survival mechanism in her body kicked in as her brain wailed a siren to signal the critical loss of water in her body. To keep her alive, the body redirected the priority of blood flow to her vital organs, leaving her reproductive system defenseless against the battle with the menacing rod. The capillaries supplying her tender inner walls constricted, starving the cells the water they need to produce lubricant. The gushing stopped abruptly just as this happened.

In no time, she felt the surface of the rod more and more definitively. The sloshing sound of her fountain now turned into a dull blubbing as the remaining set of coating in her inner walls evaporated with the building friction. There was nothing standing between the rod’s surface and her tender pussy.

Her body was begging for more water. She was thirsty, but the tension and the heat building up between her legs caused for more concern. If a thermometer was strapped to the rod, the mercury inside would rise up slowly, but at a visible pace. She remembered the running rally she participate in middle school. She wasn’t a fast runner, but she wasn’t the last either. When she was just about to reach the finish line, she slipped and fell face-forward, bruising her knee. That pain was aching. Yes, aching… stinging… burning!

No sooner than her snatch start to ache, the stinging immediately turned into burning. She couldn’t move her lower body, but she squirmed her upper part in an response to the screaming in her groin. She felt the pain and agony as if someone was using a peeler to scrape off her walls. She could feel it. She could feel the heat cooking her tender meat.

All she could do was pull against her hands and neck restraints while the metallic rod inside create temperatures high enough to burn her tissue. The men could experience the time when humans first discovered fire. Historians speculate that in a forest fire, the delicious smell of cooking meat enticed man to use fire in their meals. The raw scent of a smoking snatch was identical to this smell, causing the man to crave for a decent barbeque.

With all her might, she cramped her canal muscles hoping to stop the machine from thrusting. Sweat rolled down her face as bit down on the gag, screaming and embracing the excruciating pain.

By the next minute, the aromatic smell of her cooking walls had become a burnt stench. The friction has cooked her pass well done. This was the signal for the man. He flipped the off switch and the rod slowed down to a halt. Next, he carefully pulled out the hot metal to see his work. Her snatch still kept the shape of the rod. As smoked seeped out from inside her, the view became much clearer and distinct. There was something red sitting at the back of the dark chamber. There were no curtains concealing the entrance to her secrets. Her cervix was in the spotlight in open air, begging to be abused.

Her world was burning. Everything from outside was shut out. She didn’t know the loud sound had died. She didn’t know the machine had stopped. She didn’t know the man was getting ready for stage two.