Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners.  Any resemblance to persons either alive or dead
is purely coincidental.  This story is intended for ADULTS only.  If you
are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction, or if you
are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

   Gymnasium - by - The StoryMaster

   The heavy double doors hissed open, and Keri was immediately ushered
inside.

   "Eyes to the front, Miss Jensen," the attendant on her left ordered.

   The doors whispered shut behind the threesome.

   Just over a week had passed since Keri was abducted and imprisoned in
the "House of Horrors" as she privately referred to her present lodgings.
At first the obstinate eighteen year old had defied her captors at every
opportunity, but lately she'd learned to pick her battles.  Although she
fully expected to be rescued and set free from this madness very soon her
fianc, was a federal agent and would no doubt be searching diligently for
her

   Keri wasn't a stupid girl.  There were many more of them, these demons
in white, than she could ever hope to defeat singlehandedly, and they
appeared capable of just about anything, including rape and torture, a fact
that Keri quickly discovered first hand.

   "Guests!" she thought sneeringly.  The depraved monsters had the
unmitigated gall to refer to her and the few other miserable female
captives she'd encountered as Guests, even as they took turns with her. 
Three days ago Keri had refused to submit to being bathed in front of a
room full of the white clad perverts, and as punishment she'd been gang
raped by at least six of them.

   "She'd won that battle," the headstrong young woman thought grimly.  By
the time the group finished with her, most of the audience had left the
room and Keri'd only had to endure the humiliation of being scrubbed,
inside and out, by her Handler, Anthony, with the help of one other who's
name escaped her.

   "Handlers, the depraved men called themselves," Keri reflected, "and
handle her they most certainly did." Anthony, who seemed to have taken a
special interest in Keri, exhibited no compunction what-so-ever about
touching her or violating her in any number of ways, nor did any of his
unprincipled colleagues.  In fact, at any time, any one of the fiends
dressed in white coveralls felt perfectly justified in wantonly defiling
her person, and should Keri challenge them in any way, she would
immediately be subjected to further atrocities.

   Keri shuddered as she recalled the incident in the shower room.  No
sooner had she opened her mouth and angrily refused her tormentors the
pleasure of humiliating her in front of more than a dozen people, Keri
found herself flat on her back on the cold tile floor.  She'd struggled
valiantly, but there had simply been too many of them.  She remembered
hearing one of them yell something about a "GCO" or the like and ask for
volunteers while another man tied a kind of a bar device to her ankles. 
Then seconds later Keri lay surrounded by a crush of white coveralls.  Her
legs were spread and held widely apart by the telescoping bar.  All around
her Keri heard the telltale sounds of zippers being lowered, and before she
knew it, one of the demons in white was in her.

   It wasn't the first time Keri'd been raped since being interned in the
"House of Horrors", and like that first time she did her best to impede the
man's progress, by thrashing her body wildly from side to side and bucking
her hips violently.  However, much like her earlier experience, her efforts
proved ineffective.  One after another the men mounted her, had their way
with her and finished by inseminating her.  Moreover, during the entire
ordeal, from a kneeling position at her shoulders, the Handler named
Anthony spoke to her calmly and succinctly, coaching her, directing her to
remain silent and to look her attackers in the eye as well as a number of
other unspeakable suggestions having to do with her female anatomy and
overall technique.

   By her third or fourth partner, Keri ceased her struggles, partly
because she was exhausted, but mostly because of the cold dismay that
gradually crept into her soul as a result of the prolonged and methodical
assault upon her person.  The way each man introduced himself before
proceeding, and then found it necessary to make graphic comments about her
intimate anatomical prowess during his time with her, was utterly debasing
and dehumanizing.

   In fact, it was the perverse courtesy with which these men went about
their loathsome deeds that Keri detested most of all during her short time
"in residence" thus far.  Keri Jensen was a girl of strong character, and
she would somehow find the fortitude to survive the raw brutality of the
Handlers' treatment of her.  However, the politeness and civility with
which the men in white conducted themselves while they molested her
imparted a sense of legitimacy to their vile acts, creating a kind of
perverse oxymoron which assaulted Keri's basic concepts of right and wrong
of acceptable and unacceptable.

   Keri shuddered at the thought.  "She'd won that battle," she reminded
herself in an effort to ward off the creeping feeling of helplessness.  She
squared her shoulders and stood between her two large escorts, gazing
resolutely ahead at the gripping scene before her.

   The room was gigantic.  Keri estimated the far wall to be a good fifty
feet distant.  It was difficult for her to ascertain the chamber's breadth,
however, for not wishing to provoke a reprisal from one of her attendants,
Keri kept her eyes focused straight ahead like she'd been instructed to do.
In front of her and to either side to the limits of her peripheral vison
Keri Jensen beheld a veritable tumult of activity.

   Other than two large, square columns near the center of the room, the
floor of the TYTC Gymnasium was unbroken.  The sixty by eighty foot
facility housed an astonishing collection of specialty apparatus arrayed
about the main floor, as well as other sundry equipment mounted here and
there around the four walls.  Spaces along the walls not given over to
apparatus were mirrored as was most of the ceiling which added to the
chamber's overall appearance of vastness.

   Everywhere there was activity as shining stainless steel engines
performed their individual tasks.  Having spent a good deal of time working
out at the Health Club near her home, many of the sights and sounds were
familiar to her.  Keri Jensen, like most attractive young females, was
acutely aware of her appearance and invested several hours each week
maintaining that which had granted her so many advantages in life.  The
clack and clang of iron weights, even the tangy odor of perspiration in the
cool air reminded Keri of the spa back home.  However, upon closer
inspection most of these perceived similarities would soon evaporate.

   To the right of the broad central aisle, for example, was arranged a row
of what appeared to be Nautilus Equipment, at least at first glance.  Yet
as Keri studied the various machines more closely, she began to pick out
features and appendages clearly designed to serve one purpose.  Nearby
stood a stainless steel contrivance that resembled an Aerodyne style
"excer-cycle".  Similar, except that the foot pedals were positioned widely
apart, and in place of the caged resistance fan a shining steel cylinder
was aligned horizontally between the pedals.  Extending from this cylinder
was a shaft that pointed in the direction of the "excer-cycle" seat.  Keri
hugged herself unconsciously as she stared with growing revulsion at the
sinister machines.

   These nearby apparatus stood temporarily unused.  Others were not, and
even the slight odor of perspiration she'd smelled upon her arrival now
seemed tainted with an unusual, yet somehow familiar musky aroma.  Without
turning her head, Keri let her eyes scan around the room.  With the
exception of the few pieces of equipment to her right, the rest of the
facility was a bee hive of activity.  Unclothed female bodies lay across
shining machines in motion.  Others stood before or sat upon apparatus
who's function could only be guessed at from a distance, and intermingled
within this sea female flesh, aglow with perspiration, moved the Handlers
clad in their customary gleaming white coveralls.

   It was then that Keri first noticed the muted undertone in the room. 
From all around her came faint visceral grunts and distinctly carnal groans
as well as the unmistakable soft slapping sounds of flesh against flesh. 
Occasionally an authoritative male voice rose above these ambient
background noise and uttered a command.  "Silence, Miss Baker!" or "Look at
me, young lady!"

   Keri suddenly felt ill as she gazed upon the reprehensible scene.  "How
many women are being held prisoner in this mad house?" she wondered in
horror.  Silently Keri vowed that she would find a way to bring justice to
bear upon the detestable men in white coveralls, and in particular the man
named Rick Adams.  Even the monstrous Anthony, who personally directed the
majority of the atrocities performed upon Keri was merely a peon in this
institution of madmen.  Anthony, like all the rest, took his orders from
Rick Adams, the man they called the Headmaster, and it was Rick Adams whom
Keri held responsible for her abduction and torment.  It was Rick Adams who
would be the primary recipient of Keri's retribution.

   Standing naked between the two large, well trained men, Keri Jensen
envisioned the raid that her fianc, and his team of lethal special agents
would visit upon Mr.  Rick Adams and his beastly band of perverts.  "Some
of them might 'accidentally' be killed," she mused.  "I just hope Mr. 
Adams is one of those 'accidents'!"

   So wrapped up in dark visions of revenge and mayhem was Keri, that she
failed to notice the man until he was practically standing in front of her.
In fact she was jolted back to reality only when Anthony said, "Good
morning, Coach."

   "Anthony," the man responded with a curt nod as he stepped in front of
Keri.

   Keri Jensen was tall for a female, and at five-ten and a half, she was
nearly a full head taller than the man standing in front of her now, but in
spite of his small stature, it was immediately evident to Keri that this
man was not one to be toyed with.  For one thing, he was very powerfully
built, his shoulders being nearly as broad as his diminutive height of
approximately five feet, five inches.  The man's arms were nearly as big
around as Keri's thighs, and beneath his leathery skin well toned muscles
rippled.  His barrel chest tapered quickly to a trim waist, and that was as
far down as Keri wanted to look for the time being.

   The Coach, as he was known by his colleagues and Guests alike, had been
with The Youth Training Center since its inception, and when Adam North,
the founder and original Headmaster of the Center retired, the Coach became
its most tenured employee.  He'd seen a lot of changes over the years, that
much was certain, and he'd had a hand in the development of some marvelous
new technology.  He'd survived and gone on to play a key role in rectifying
the EFIRS debacle and subsequent recalls.  He'd witnessed the demand for
enlightened females wax and wane, and he'd seen tastes fluctuate from older
girls, to younger and back again.  But virtually unique among the ranks of
the TYTC Handlers, the Coach could honestly say that he'd personally played
a significant part in the conditioning program of each and every young lady
to join the TYTC family.

   The idea of a building facility where Guests could train and practice
was his, originally.  The TYTC Gymnasium was inaugurated in the fall of
1990, almost four years after the Center's grand opening in 1986, and since
that day, under the Coach's patient tutelage, young ladies of all ages and
from all walks of life have been afforded a means by which they might
improve upon their natural, God given talents.

   The Coach enjoyed a reputation for austerity, however, like every man in
the employ of The Youth Training Center, he was neither violent nor cruel.
There were those who in jest insisted that he was getting "soft in his old
age", and perhaps he had "mellowed" a bit over the years.  There was no
question, however, that The Coach took his job very seriously.  When a
young lady came to his gymnasium, she was there to better herself, and it
was his business to help her to develop and achieve a specific set of
goals. His methods were direct, and he brooked no arguments, and as a
result his successes were legendary.  The Coach was nothing short of a
mainstay to the TYTC program and was held in high esteem by all of his
peers.

   The Coach remained silent for a long while, taking the opportunity to
study his newest protege.  "Another old woman," he thought, shaking his
head.  "And judging from the look on her face and the way she carries
herself, she's going to be a handful.  Why anyone would want to go to all
the trouble to get this one to cooperate is beyond me, but if that's what
the customer wants..."

   The Coach, like many of his colleagues, believed that young ladies in
their early teens or younger are far more receptive to suggestion and
conditioning.  Much past the age of fourteen, possibly fifteen if she comes
from a rural community, most females become difficult to reach.  At fifteen
or sixteen they tend to develop a more defined sense of self, and in
addition, by their middle to late teenage years they have usually
internalized much of the societal indoctrination they've been exposed to
for most of their lives.  The simple fact that older subjects must first
"unlearn" a great deal before they can take their first baby steps along
the road to "right thinking" should be enough of a deterrent, but if that
doesn't convince you then consider this:

   More often than not, as young females approach sexual maturity, they
instinctively start to position themselves for mating, and they can become
quite ruthless in their efforts to find and secure [control] a suitable
partner.  Far more serious, however, is the fact that during this winnowing
process the female, left to her own devices, can realize a sense of power
over her unsuspecting male counterpart.  Eventually she will discover "the
power of pretty" and soon she'll start to use this new found source of
influence in her day to day dealings with her fellow man.  As isolated
instances these power plays seem trivial, except of course, to the
unfortunate person on the receiving end.  Syndicate them, however, and pass
this conduct along from one generation to the next, and we have the basis
for the feminization of our society.

   "Start 'em young while they're impressionable and willing," had always
been the Coach's philosophy, but there were those who disagreed.  "The
sense of accomplishment one experiences by guiding an errant young lady
back to the pathways of enlightenment certainly cannot be denied," they
will argue.  It's easy to see then why an ongoing debate on this subject
exists among the professional men and women of The Youth Training Center.

   Keri did her best to maintain her composure as the stocky little man
looked her up and down.  In spite of her uneasiness, Keri maintained and
air of confidence, returning the man's appraising stare with calmness and
poise.  One thing she noticed during their reciprocal examination of each
other was that this guy, the Coach, Anthony had called him, wasn't dressed
in the usual white coveralls like everybody else in the "House of Horrors".
Instead he wore grey sweat pants and a grey sweatshirt with the sleeves cut
off at the shoulders.  "All he needs is a whistle on a lanyard around his
neck and he'd even look like a coach," Keri mused, trying not to laugh at
her own witticism.  Then as though the man had somehow read her thoughts,
he smiled.  It was a discerning smile devoid of warmth or compassion, and
although his lips smiled, his eyes did not.  An unexpected chill crawled up
Keri's spine as she stared briefly into eyes the color of ice water, before
she was obliged to look away.  "Had she totally misread the man?" she
wondered.

   "I hope we enjoyed our private little joke, my dear," the Coach spoke
with his eyes.  "I'll wager that you've engaged in a lot of secret
shenanigans over the years, and probably at the expense of some unlucky
young man." She was certainly the type he concluded.

   "Keri Jensen," the Coach recalled from his preliminary scan of her file
was just over eighteen years of age.  She came from good stock and had no
doubt been well schooled by her mother in the art of wielding the "Power of
Pretty".  According to her records Miss Jensen had engaged in a number of
relationships throughout her junior high and highschool years, a few of
which had unquestionably been relationships of opportunity.  One such
pairing with a mathematics teacher when she was fifteen and a half had
backfired and cost Keri her virginity, but in the end she'd gotten the
passing grade, and the young man she'd supposedly been dating at the time
was never the wiser.

   Her current love interest, one Jeffery Baldwin, was a Special Agent with
the FBI, and unbeknownst to Miss Jensen he'd made the arrangements for his
lovely but overbearing girlfriend to spend some time at a remarkable and
highly clandestine "rehabilitation center".  It cost him a fortune, but the
contract stated unequivocally that upon her return, his fianc, would be
both obedient, and accommodating.  Two days following the receipt of Agent
Baldwin's check, Miss Keri Marie Jensen arrived at The Youth Training
Center.

   "I suppose she is an attractive thing," the Coach reflected, looking the
young lady over with an eye toward her physique.  "Tall girl," he remarked
to himself.  "But nicely proportioned...  Broad shoulders, slender waist,
sturdy hips.  All in all a reasonably serviceable figure," he concluded. 
"Tits could present a "free-rad" problem," the Coach resolved, making a
mental note to include a memo in her file.  "Flat stomach, long legs and
nicely appointed in the genital area," he observed.  Then as he glanced up
at her face, his cool, discerning smile returned.  "Handsome face with an
accommodating mouth," he thought, observing the blush of color in the
girl's neck and cheeks.  "In summation she's a reasonably attractive
female, and baby don't we know it!" the Coach muttered under his breath,
noting the high degree of self-consciousness she exhibited.

   Keri was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as she was forced to
endure the man's scrutiny.  Despite her efforts to remain in control and
keep her emotions in check, she sensed the blood rushing to her face when
she felt his eyes settle on what used to be the most private parts of her
body.

   Keri blushed all the hotter when she recalled how earlier that morning
yet another man dressed in white whom she'd never before laid eyes on, got
the job of trimming her sandy brown pubic curls.  Keri had a rather full
coat down there, and had recently undergone fairly extensive electrolysis
to remove unwanted hair from her inner thighs as well as a stripe of
coarser, darker curls that ran from her belly button to the top of her
pubis mons.  The procedure had cost Keri a lot of money, but it was well
worth it since it enabled her to wear the more seductive, thong style
swimming suits with only a minimal amount of personal maintenance.  Keri's
"hair stylist" that morning had trimmed her a lot closer than she would
have, herself.  So close, in fact, that her prominent mons and heavy labia
majora were now clearly visible beneath the remaining sparse covering. 
Keri felt even more exposed than usual and was very tempted to turn away as
the Coach studied her closely.  Out of the corners of their eyes, her two
attendants watched the embarrassed young woman carefully for any signs of
refusal, but so far she was behaving herself.  Then the Coach uttered the
words that Keri had been silently dreading.

   "Good morning, young lady," he said, making eye contact with her.

   Keri hesitated for perhaps three seconds.  She knew what was expected of
her, but nonetheless the attractive teenager loathed this particular
routine, perhaps more than any other atrocity the demons in white chose to
subject her to.  It was called "The Standard Greeting", and Keri and the
other Guests were required to submit to the hateful procedure often many
times a day.  Early on the obstinate teenager had summarily refused to
cooperate, prompting reprisals which quickly added to Keri's life list of
intimate partners.  But as traumatic as those early experiences had been,
even gang rape was somehow preferable to being so casually handled against
her will.

   If the truth be known, this was a common reaction among the Guests,
making the Standard Greeting one of the most effective tools in use today
to gradually erode a young lady's self-image; a necessary process along the
road to recovery.

   "Good medicine rarely tastes good," the Coach liked to say.

   Two days ago Keri's life underwent another significant change when
Anthony and a second Handler escorted her to a special room located
somewhere deep within the House of Horrors.  There she'd been strapped into
a diabolical chair with no bottom.  Then without so much as a how do you
do, a third man had pushed an unspeakable object up into her backside.  For
the rest of that day and part of the next, Keri had barely been able to
walk without help.  Every step was agony and the cramping was virtually
intolerable.  Furthermore, to her astonishment and dismay she was
instructed never to tamper with or attempt to remove the hurtful object, or
she would be punished quite severely.  Ever so gradually the pain and
pressure subsided until just last night Keri found herself more or less
free of abdominal distress, provided she didn't sit down wrong.  Upon
awakening this morning the ill effects of the loathsome instrument were
further reduced, leaving her with only a dull ache back there.  Keri did
find, however, that she was now acutely aware of that part of her anatomy,
feeling a constant sensation of internal presence and fullness.

   It was later that morning that Keri first learned about the other
function of her CAP Device, as it was called.  Ironically the learning
experience resulted from an attempted refusal of another Handler's Standard
Greeting.  Even as Keri clamped her knees tightly together and rotated her
hips in an effort to remove herself from harm's way, Anthony administered
her first lesson.

   Keri never knew what hit her.  One moment she was stubbornly vying with
the two men, and the next she was on the floor struggling hard just to
catch her breath.  To the astonished teenager it felt as though she'd been
kicked in the stomach, only from the inside.  What had actually befallen
Keri was that soon after spotting the signs of an impending refusal,
Anthony had reached behind her and using four fingers he'd slapped the
exposed blunt end of the CAP Device.  It wasn't a particularly powerful
blow, just a firm rap, actually.  But due to the highly advanced composite
materials used in the construction of the specialized anal appliances, the
force of Anthony's corrective measure, was amplified as it was conducted
deep into Keri's colon/rectal passage.  There the energy was transmitted to
the her spinal cord, lower abdominal organs and eventually to her
diaphragm, effectively knocking the wind out of the obstinate girl.

   Unlike many young ladies, Keri learned fairly quickly.  Anthony was
forced to give the head strong young woman one other reminder when at
breakfast she was approached by another of his coworkers.  This time,
however, the Handler used only minimal force.  Simply tapping with the tips
of two fingers on the blunt end of the CAP Device which was embossed with
the numeral "8" and nestled between Keri's shapely buttocks, proved
adequate to gain her attention.  Then following some whining protests,
prompting the need for verbal correction only, the Jensen girl had
acquiesced.

   The Coach waited patiently for the young lady to respond to his initial
salutation.  He'd been previously apprised of the Jensen girl's difficulty
with the Greeting, and was prepared to have to take extraordinary measures
with the headstrong young woman.  He monitored her facial expression
closely, noting a look of agitation and confusion as she wrestled with her
pride and self-respect.

   According to protocol, upon receiving any staff member's opening
salutation, Keri was expected to face him and assume a stance with her feet
spread apart to approximately the same width as her shoulders.  Then while
maintaining direct eye contact she must await the Greeter's pleasure. 
Verbally replying to the initial salutation is optional.

   Keri jumped slightly when she felt Anthony's hand on her left hip. 
Seconds later with a barely audible sigh, the once proud young woman moved
her right foot to the side.  Her expression was priceless as she was forced
to comply with the wishes of these wicked men once again.

   "Look at me, please, young lady," the Coach instructed when Keri
momentarily dropped her gaze.  Her huge hazel eyes spoke volumes to the
professional man as without the slightest compunction the Coach placed his
hand on her.  Sliding his fingers smoothly between her thighs and over her
substantial outer lips, the Coach pressed the heel of his hand firmly
against the mons, the padded mound of fur covered flesh over her pubic
arch. No words were spoken and Keri wasn't restrained in any way.  She was
expected to accept the Coach's touch without protest.  It was a difficult
lesson for any young woman, but especially for one as self-involved as Keri
Jensen.

   Keri's eyes grew suddenly wider, and her pupils quickly contracted to
black pin pricks as she stared at the Coach with all the vehemence of a
viper preparing to strike.  Ignoring the young woman's unspoken
wrathfulness and revulsion, the Coach continued with the routine in true
text book fashion.  Pressing upward with his fingers at the posterior end
of the labia majora on either side of the vaginal opening, the Coach
performed the "Cup Maneuver" on Keri by making a partial fist and
compressing her ample labia between his fingertips and the heel of his
hand.

   The attractive teenager's lower lip began to quiver noticeably as the
professional man repeatedly palpated her most prized flesh.

   Keri Jensen was totally outraged by the flagrant invasion of her person.
"Did these men have no shame at all!" Keri marveled.  Then out of the blue
she caught herself thinking, "Before coming to this mad house, men would
have killed for the privilege of touching me like this." She gritted her
teeth and tried to hang on as the man's hand rubbed and squeezed and
pressed.  Every fiber of her being screamed for her to lash out, to attack,
to defend her dignity, but feeling Anthony's hand resting gently on her hip
just inches away from the dreadful instrument he'd had placed into her,
reminded Keri that she would pay a price if she tried to resist.  She had
to endure, for Keri felt certain a time would come when she would have her
revenge.  Then suddenly the man was speaking to her.

   "May I have your name, please," the Coach requested of her.

   Keri wasn't at all sure she could answer him, considering what he was
doing to her.  Thoughts of violence and retribution screamed in the
forefront of her mind, but not far away, just behind the thin veil of
conscious thought was the constant and undeniable feeling of his hand upon
her pressing and rubbing.  Keri shut her eyes tightly and tried to collect
her thoughts.  What had he asked her?  Then "Oh, God, I wish he would take
his hand away!  Somebody, please make him stopppp!"

   "Look at me, young lady and give me your name, please," the Coach
repeated his request.  Meanwhile, between the teenager's thighs he
separated his fingers, placing his index and first fingers over one of her
labia, and his ring and little fingers over the other.  As the girl
reluctantly opened her eyes and looked at him, with a practiced hand the
Coach spread his fingers, two to either side, separating Keri's labia
majora and exposing her moist inner tissues to the cool room air.  "Live
long and prosper," he muttered under his breath.

   The girl knew she'd been opened.  The Coach could see it in her
expression as her natural female alarm warned her that her abdominal
integrity was compromised.  She looked startled and confused and appeared
to be losing focus.  Keri Jensen was beginning to experience the Thelazine
Effect.

   Keri, like every Guest of the Center was given an injection of the
miracle drug, Thelazine soon after establishing residence.  One of the
beneficial effects of the incredible compound and there were many is that
it acts almost like a neural traffic cop, giving the green light to those
impulses and sensations emanating from the distinctly female areas of
Keri's anatomy, and speeding them on their way to the pleasure center of
her brain, while at the same time blocking inapplicable concepts and
inappropriate thoughts that would serve only to confuse or distract.  Ever
so gradually more complex concepts such as thoughts of revenge were shunted
onto a "side street" in Keri's mind as more immediate and relevant physical
sensations took precedence.  The outrage that the pretty teen felt was
still there, but it was slowly losing its focal point.  Lacking an
objective or a "battle plan", if you will, even an emotion as powerful as
anger will eventually lose cohesiveness and dissipate as the conscious mind
seeks to alleviate the stress it produces.  In short the drug allowed Keri
to listen more closely to her "inner female" without the distraction
associated with complex thinking resulting from perceived violations of
personal belief systems, inhibitions or societal prejudices.

   To be certain, Keri Jensen still felt intense anger and indignation over
having been abducted and imprisoned.  However, if at that exact moment she
could step back and examine her anger from a position of emotional
detachment, she would discover that those feelings of rage were quickly
becoming more ambiguous.  Already Keri was subconsciously directing her
anger at the circumstances rather than toward specific individuals. 
Furthermore, if the individual who presently was taking great liberties
with her namely the Coach continued to access those areas of Keri's
reproductive anatomy designed to stimulate and arouse, the resulting
sensory messages arriving at her brain and flagged "high priority" would
continue to supersede more complex thought patterns, further attenuating
the teenager's reasoning abilities.  Eventually, left only with a nebulous,
undirected anger, Keri's subconscious would begin to suppress that potent
sentiment as well, rather than risk emotional pain.  In the end, thanks to
Thelazine, Miss Jensen would be left in a state of mental and emotional
disorientation mixed with a healthy dose of sexual arousal.  Of greater
significance, and the reason why Thelazine is recognized as an invaluable
training tool, is the fact that in this distracted state of mind a young
lady becomes highly impressionable and receptive to suggestion.

   [Another Author's Note: Numerous references to Thelazine can be found
throughout the TYTC series of stories.  TYTC 4.5 and 10S-NE1 - Part One
both contain excellent descriptions of Thelazine and its remarkable
effectiveness.]

   "Your name, please," the Coach insisted.

   "K...Keri J..Jensen," the handsome teenager responded then looked down
at the man's hand between her legs.  Recognizing a problem her instinctive
female defense system immediately flashed a warning to her brain, urging
Keri to clamp her thighs together and protect herself, but at that instant
the Coach spoke.

   "Look at me, Miss Jensen," he demanded, and no sooner had the mental
alert been issued, it evaporated, leaving Keri slightly dazed.

   Meanwhile, between her legs, the man used his fingers to alternately
open and close Keri again and again until she thought she would go out of
her mind.  She'd been forced to submit to the indignity of the Standard
Greeting on more than one occasion, but this time was way different than
the rest.  This man, this ...Coach, handled her with a purpose.  His touch
was at the same time both intrusive and provocative.  Keri felt supremely
violated, yet the nagging suspicion that she might somehow become excited
by the experience, evoked some very uncomfortable feelings within her.

   It took a huge effort this time for her to raise her eyes to his, but
once she finally managed to achieve eye contact, Keri found she was either
unable or unwilling to look away.  The Coach's ice water eyes seemed to fix
her gaze, paralyzing her like a fawn caught in the beam of a jack lighter's
lamp.  Keri imagined the man reaching into her innermost soul with his
eyes, threatening to ferret out her most guarded secrets.

   The Coach, who more so than most was exceptionally proficient at
deciphering the facial expressions and body language of the human female,
correctly identified signs of uncertainty and confusion in the girl, and as
though he was following the step-by-step instructions for the Standard
Greeting protocol printed in the TYTC Handler's Handbook, he did reach into
Keri, but not with his eyes.

   "Hrruuhh," the surprised teenager exhaled loudly, as a powerful tremor
passed through her.  Her knees suddenly felt like rubber, and she probably
would have fallen had the Coach not supported her with his free hand. 
Meanwhile the man's long middle finger traveled easily up into Keri's inner
sanctum, pushing aside her convoluted vaginal walls with a remarkable lack
of opposition.  Much to her dismay Keri did indeed fall against the Coach,
and for an a few seconds the powerful man supported a good deal of her
weight with his hand between her legs.  For all intents and purposes, the
Coach held Keri up by her intimate self, and those few seconds were
extremely humiliating for the arrogant young woman.

   It was almost comical to watch the pretty teenager struggle to regain
her footing.  After yanking her arm from the Coach's grasp, she brushed the
hair out of her face and squared her shoulders.  The funny thing was that
as Keri went about trying to recover at least a small part of her
composure, she seemed to overlook the fact that a perfect stranger had his
finger imbedded as deeply into her birth canal as was humanly possible.

   It took a moment for that fact to register and for Keri's alarm system
to respond, but once again the top-priority, warning message, stating that
a stranger had entered her body without her permission, was directed onto a
side road.  Meanwhile the sizzling impulses describing the shape, size and
texture of the Coach's finger and how it had felt going in, raced past on
the Thelazine Expressway.  So even though Keri recognized the disturbing
fact that she had just been forcibly violated, the reality of sustaining a
warm, unyielding mass inside of herself took priority.  That the Coach's
finger was inside of her was far more important than how it came to be
there.

   While Keri's befuddled brain sorted through all the pros and cons and
causes and effects, the Coach used the time to make a primary assessment of
her vaginal aptitude.  Although there were several specialized instruments
at his disposal to aid him in determining the young lady's personal
measurements such as Passage Volume, Internal Grip Strength [IGS] and
Muscle Memory [M&M's], The Coach was from the old school.  He'd spent so
many hundreds of hours over the years engaged in intimate contact with the
Guests of The Youth Training Center, that his simple tactile examinations
generally yielded results so close to the data collected electronically
that it was uncanny.

   "How often do you engage in sexual activity, Miss Jensen?" the Coach
asked in a clinical tone of voice.  Keri shuddered reflexively when he
shifted the position of his impaling digit inside of her.  "She appears to
have adequate volume," the Coach noted.

   "I..I.." she began in a confused voice.

   "Once a week?  Twice a week?  Ten times?  How often, Miss Jensen?" the
Coach demanded, interrupting her.  He began to move his finger slowly in
and out of the bewildered girl.  "Grip strength seems poor," the Coach
decided when he detected no appreciable change in snugness upon ingress and
egress.  "Then again, it could be a coordination problem rather than one of
fitness," he reminded himself.

   "Waa...Once a w..week.  S..sometimes," Keri stammered lamely.  She
couldn't believe that she'd actually answered such a personal question, but
she was so distracted and confused.  Her mind was sluggish and her thoughts
were often directionless and out of context.

   The Coach made no comment on Keri's rather intimate disclosure but
continued to move his finger steadily in and out...  in and out for a few
minutes more, while monitoring her facial expressions and body language
closely.  Clearly she was beginning to turn her attention inward, for her
eyes appeared out of focus.  The Coach pushed his finger deeply up into
Keri, pulled out and then fully into her once more.  Then he paused,
feeling a series of weak contractions.  "This one definitely needs a
workout," the Coach concluded.  Again he thrust his finger deeply into
Keri, causing her to gasp.  He watched her eyes as he repeated the invasive
thrusts, once...twice...three times.  On the third entry, she squeezed his
finger, but very reservedly.  Again the Coach pushed into Keri, causing her
to rise up onto the balls of her feet and her tummy to bulge outward quite
nicely.  "Now we're getting some place," the Coach muttered under his
breath.  Three more times he drove his finger into the girl, receiving some
encouraging, wet, snapping sounds for his effort.  Then with the third
thrust abruptly he stopped.

   Keri felt like a derailed train.  She'd become almost totally focused on
the motion of the Coach's finger, and later, when she had a moment to
reflect, the realization that she'd allowed the wicked and perverted man to
get her so "worked up" would weigh heavily on her.

   This is a perfect example of one of the many beneficial side effects of
Thelazine.  By design, the physiological changes wrought by the amazing
compound are so subtle that many young ladies become confused about which
feelings are a result of the drug, and which appetites and responses are
attributable to some heretofore unseen part of themselves, some flaw in
their character.  The increasing self-doubt that shadows each unanticipated
arousal is capable of undermining the confidence of even the most well
balanced young woman, and over a period of time can be very effective.

   The Coach recognized the chagrin in Keri's expression as being
indicative of real progress, for he'd seen similar reactions in hundreds of
others a thousand times.  Soon the transformation would begin.  The
systematic altering of the Guests' perception of "self" using time proven
techniques like these has never failed.  Head strong and impertinent in the
beginning, then as time passes, each and every one of them slowly improves.
It requires patience and persistence and time before any real breakthroughs
are achieved.  Some young ladies learn faster than others.  One thing,
however, is certain:

   "Given a suitable amount of sexual impetus by a partner, partners or
apparatus, employing the proper techniques, for an adequate period of time,
any female, regardless of the circumstances of her involvement, will
eventually become an active and willing participant in the relationship."

   "Once a week, sometimes," the Coach remarked, sounding surprised.  Then
again he propelled his middle finger fully into Keri, causing her heels to
rise off the floor.  "A young woman your age?  What a waste of natural
resource!  Well, I suspect that since joining our little family, you've
seen an increase in that sort of activity," the Coach said sarcastically.
Keri looked away, confused and ashamed.

   Without further comment, the Coach removed his finger, stepped back, and
as he dried his hands on the small towel he kept tucked into the back of
his sweat pants, he appraised his pupil once again.  Her neck, shoulders
and cheeks were showing a healthy blush of color.  The darker pink skin of
her small areolae was noticeably constricted, and her clear hazel eyes
looked hazy and distant.

   Privately the Coach was pleased with her progress.  Keri Jensen showed
promise in spite of her advanced age.  He said nothing to the girl,
however. Turning instead to her Handler, Anthony, he said, "You may leave
Miss Jensen with me.  Come back for her in four to five hours.  We have a
lot of work to do."

   "Very well, Coach," Anthony replied.  "Call me if you need me to pick
her up early," he offered then turned and with the other attendant made his
exit, leaving Keri standing naked and alone.

   "Come with me, Miss Jensen," the Coach said after a moment and held out
a hand to her.  In the "old days" Guests were led about by the hand, but as
the population of the Center grew, the practice was phased out for
logistical reasons.  In his gymnasium, however, the Coach made the rules.
"Give me your hand, Miss Jensen," he ordered when the girl gave him a blank
and uncomprehending look.

   Still a little wonky from her recent and unexpected arousal, Keri
elected to cooperate.  Placing her small hand into the Coach's much larger
mitt, she decided that now was not the time for a confrontation.  The man's
hand was surprisingly soft for such a rugged looking individual, and Keri
knew from recent personal experience that his fingers were both long and
thick.  She tried not to think about the fact that she was being led by the
hand, padding along behind the Coach like a small child, as the two of them
proceeded down the central aisle of the TYTC Gymnasium.

   Glancing to her left Keri noticed a pretty young girl no more than
fourteen or fifteen years of age.  She was bent slightly at the waist and
was holding onto a shining steel horizontal bar for support.  The girl's
feet were spread quite widely apart, and on what looked like a weight
lifting bench nearby, Keri recognized the all too familiar shape of a CAP
Device, the very same instrument that she herself contained within her
colon/rectal passage.  Behind the pretty youngster knelt her Handler, or at
least the staff member in attendance.  Keri assumed that the Handler had
removed the young girl's CAP Device, because Guests were forbidden to
tamper with them in any way, and in its place the man dressed in white had
inserted another instrument.  From what Keri could see as she and the Coach
passed by, it appeared to be a thinner, wand-like mechanism, one end of
which was imbedded in the young girl's rear end, and the other, which
resembled a pistol grip, the Handler held in his hand.  Two clear hoses
extended from the butt end of the grip downward to a gadget on the floor
that looked very much like a canister style vacuum cleaner.  Placing his
free hand onto the pretty girl's hip to steady her, the Handler pushed the
device farther into his young subject.  He then depressed the trigger
mechanism and immediately the milky fluid flowing through the two hoses
turned dark brown.  At the same time Keri heard a kind of distant growling
sound as though it was coming from inside the girl.  There was no doubt
that something was going on inside of her, because her pretty face abruptly
turned pale and she looked like she was going to throw up.  Keri looked
away in disgust.

   They moved on, but it seemed that no matter which way Keri chose to
turn, she was met with yet another beastly scene.  Everywhere she looked
there were bodies in motion, female bodies of all ages.  Some were involved
with heinous looking apparatus, while others were in the company of one or
more Handlers.  Needless to say, Keri was becoming rather concerned about
her own immediate future and well being, but just then the Coach halted so
abruptly that Keri walked right into him.

   "Here's someone you might recognize, Miss Jensen," the Coach said,
nodding toward a group immediately to their right; two Handlers and one
young woman with very long, blond hair.

   Keri couldn't see the girl's face, because she was facing away from
them. Without acknowledging the presence of an audience, the threesome got
started.  One of the two Handlers took up a position on his back atop a
long, low padded bench while the other man stood next to the blond girl
with his hand on her shoulder.  The man standing then leaned closer to the
girl and spoke to her in a low voice while the Handler lying on the low
bench unzipped his coveralls and extracted himself.  Then while they all
looked on he stroked himself until he reached full erection.

   "My God, he's huge!" Keri exclaimed under her breath, and bringing one
hand up to her lips nervously, she stared in utter amazement at the massive
example of maleness gripped tightly in the Handler's fist.  Keri still
couldn't see the other girl's face, but clearly the blond was looking at
the same thing.  "Did they actually expect the poor girl to impale herself
on that...that...  thing?" Keri wondered.  Very soon her question was
answered as the Handler standing beside the unfortunate blond girl leaned
close once more and gave her instructions.  Keri caught a glimpse of her
profile when the pretty teenager turned and shot the Handler a look of
dismay, but it happened too quickly for Keri to identify her.

   Slowly then, and clearly very reluctantly, the blond girl straddled the
low bench and its occupant.  Immediately the Handler lying prone beneath
her put a hand behind her right thigh and eased her forward.  "Up on your
tip toes," Keri heard the man say.  Actually it really was necessary for
the young lady to raise herself upward in order to mount the mammoth,
heavily veined monster.  Keri watched amazed as from her vantage point
behind the girl, the broad, bulbous head of the thing disappeared between
her shapely buttocks.  The Handler continued to clutch his enormous manhood
in his fist, supporting himself for his pretty partner, when suddenly she
arched her muscular back and threw her head back with an audible groan. 
Again Keri almost got a look at her face, but not quite.

   "Silence, young lady," the Handler who'd remained standing ordered as he
stepped closer to the girl and again placed a hand onto her shoulder.

   "Look at me, young lady and settle down, please," the man lying beneath
the handsome blond said.  "And bend your knees," he ordered.

   Keri heard a guttural grunt come from the girl, and shortly afterward
her partner was heard to say, "That's better.  Now down we go." She bent
her knees like the Handler suggested, and miraculously the girl managed to
accept more than half of her sizeable lover into her body.

   "That's my girl.  You're almost there," her lover told her as the blond
struggled with the last few inches.

   Keri simply couldn't understand where it was all going.  "God, she must
feel him in the back of her throat!" Keri remarked to herself as she
watched the young blond's buttocks settle at last onto the tops of the
man's thighs.

   Not wishing to watch what amounted to a rape any longer, Keri turned to
the Coach to see if he was ready to move on, but to her consternation the
man nodded in the direction of the party of three and told her to keep
watching.

   As Keri turned back to the group, the blond leaned forward, placed her
hands onto her lover's broad shoulders and began to undulate her hips
slowly back and forth, fucking herself on man's ample engine.  The two
Handlers let her continue for a couple of minutes longer, until the man
beneath her reached up, took her by her shoulders and pulled her down,
giving Keri and the Coach a better view of the thoroughness of her
involvement.  Her lover's substantial shaft, which had to be over three
inches in diameter, was completely buried in her vagina, and judging from
the way the girl's inner labia were stretched tightly around its
considerable girth, Keri figured it had to be an uncomfortably snug fit.

   The girl's CAP device had been removed earlier by the attending Handler,
leaving her puckered anal portal exposed and empty, but that was soon to be
remedied.  As Keri looked on in growing discomfort, the attending Handler
who'd remained standing reached down and casually slipped his middle finger
into the young blond's unoccupied opening.

   It never ceased to amaze Keri the ease with which these diabolical men
could invade a girl.  She knew from personal experience that without the
aid of lubrication, any one of them was capable of inserting to the hilts a
finger or fingers into a dry passage with incredible speed and economy of
motion.  It was perverse.

   Soon the man began to rotate his hand at the wrist, twisting and probing
ever deeper.  Beneath the girl her lover placed his hands onto her hips and
encourage her to begin fucking him again, for she'd frozen temporarily when
the other man entered her.  After a second or two her pelvis began to rock
slowly.

   Keri as yet hadn't gotten a good look at the girl's face, but already
she felt sympathy for her.  Perhaps it was a kind of bond between the
mutually oppressed, but as Keri stood observing the threesome she pitied
the girl.  Judging from the surprising degree of cooperation she extended
to her defilers, she'd clearly been imprisoned in "the House of Horrors"
for quite some time.  Keri didn't hear a peep from the group once they got
going, other than the occasional sticky, wet sounds of love.  While the
young blond went about her duties, the attending man in white continued to
delve about in her rectal passage for another minute or two, and then
without removing his impaling digit he straddled the narrow bench,
temporarily blocking the view.  Keri heard the sickening sound of his
coverall zipper being lowered, but it appeared that the blond girl was too
distracted to notice.

   Because the second Handler's body was blocking her view, Keri didn't
witness the actual penetration, but as was generally the case, it happened
very quickly.  With practiced ease the big man in white reached down,
hooked his fingers in front of the girl's hip bones and bent his knees
slightly.  When the proper angle of attack was achieved he then pushed
forward with his hips while at the same time, he pulled back on the girl's
hips.

   The blond's reaction to him was quite pronounced.  "Surely she'd felt
him press himself against her," Keri marveled, but apparently not.  These
men were experts.  The startled young woman suddenly pushed her herself
upward with her arms, arched her back severely and gave a deep visceral
groan.  Keri was about to look away in disgust and pity, when the second
Handler issued a command to the unhappy blond.

   "Silence, Miss Kournikova!" he snapped.  "And look back at me please."

   "Huh?  W..what did he say?" Keri thought to herself, but quickly decided
that she must have misunderstood the man.  After all, his back was turned.
Then as though in answer to her unspoken question, the young blond slowly
turned and stared back over her left shoulder as the second Handler began a
slow cadence.

   "Oh my God!" Keri gasped out loud, and her hand flew to her mouth in
stunned surprise.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach immediately ordered, stepping up
closely behind her.

   Keri shuddered involuntarily when she sensed his fingers on the butt end
of her CAP Device.  Standing spellbound she stared briefly into the big
green eyes of Anna Kournikova.  Her face clearly reflected her discomfort,
but her eyes seemed distant and unfocused.  Keri was certain she'd made eye
contact, however briefly, with the famous blond tennis star, but there had
been no sign of recognition there at all.

   Keri was absolutely incredulous, as she watched the pretty celebrity
stare dutifully into the eyes of the man behind her while he quickly
established a steady rhythm.  "This is impossible!" Keri insisted to
herself, but the evidence unfortunately was irrefutable.

   She wasn't a big tennis fan, but she liked to watch the grand slam
tournaments whenever they were televised, and now that she thought about
it, she hadn't seen Anna Kournikova play in quite some time.  As Keri
looked on with growing trepidation, she began to wonder who these people at
this "Youth Training Center" really were.  It would be no easy task to
abduct a person as popular and recognizable as Anna Kournikova, and why
hadn't she read about it in the papers?  Keri was truly astonished by this
particular development and her expression must have reflected her
sentiments.

   "I see that you recognize our Guest," the Coach remarked.  Keri turned
to answer him, but suddenly the sharp and unmistakable sound of a firm
"slap" caused her to return her attention to the menage a trois on the
bench.

   "Silence, young lady!" one of the Handlers barked when the unhappy
tennis star cried out.  "You have the needs of two partners to consider
now, so concentrate on your passage control," the man beneath her coached.
"Hands on my shoulders and let's get those hips moving.  I want you to pay
attention and fuck me, Miss Kournikova.  Do it now, please," the Handler
lying on the bench beneath the blond athlete demanded.

   Keri shuddered as she watched the unfortunate young woman attempt to
comply with the despicable man's wishes.  Leaning forward carefully, Anna
Kournikova placed her hands on the prone man's shoulders.  Meanwhile, her
other partner shifted his position somewhat and went on with his steady
thrusting.  Slowly the tennis celebrity's broad hips began to move, and
soon the threesome assumed a more regular rhythm and pace.

   Keri discovered that she was hugging herself, as she stood watching the
lurid display.  She'd never allowed anyone to take her anally and shuddered
again at the very thought of having two large masses moving inside of her.
"It had to hurt," Keri thought.

   "Miss Kournikova joined our little family about ten months ago," the
Coach narrated from just behind Keri's left shoulder, startling her a bit
as he placed a hand on her shoulder.  His right hand which had been resting
on her hip dropped downward and right away Keri felt him grasp the hideous
object they'd jammed into her rear end.

   "I have to admit," the stout little man went on in a conversational tone
of voice.  "She was quite a handful at first."

   A series of sympathetic muscle contractions racked Keri's lower abdomen,
causing her to inhale sharply as the Coach began to twist the specially
designed device slowly inside of her.  Gritting her teeth, Keri struggled
to maintain control, but her knees felt all rubbery and weak.

   "Yes indeed," the Coach mused as though this were just another day at
the office.  "You'd never know it to look at her now, but for the first few
weeks, our little celebrity required the attention of at least two members
of our staff and often three, twenty-four hours a day" he remarked.

   Slowly the Coach twisted the butt end of the black composite plug lodged
in Keri's rectal passage, first one way and then the other as though he
were dialing a combination lock.  As he did, he carefully monitored the
young woman's muscular responses, both their frequency and strength.  Based
upon her reactions the Coach surmised that prior to joining the TYTC
family, Miss Jensen hadn't used her nether passage for much more than the
elimination of bodily waste, but that would soon change.

   Keri began to hear regular and rather repugnant noises from the
direction of the loving trio.  The sound of heavy breathing , irregular and
gasping, interspersed with soft grunts and the wet, visceral "spooching"
reports of pressurized air escaping from tightly packed passages was also
increasingly more noticeable.  It was repulsive and vulgar.

   "Well, we've wasted quite enough time, Miss Jensen," the Coach piped up
suddenly.  "You and I have a lot of ground to cover, so we'd best get
started.  Come with me, please," he ordered and held out his hand to her.

   Keri stared at it for a second before taking it.  Then as she and the
Coach turned and moved away down the wide central aisle of the gymnasium,
from behind Keri clearly heard one of the Handler's involved with the
pretty tennis star say, "That's good, Miss Kournikova.  Bear down now. 
That's it.  Don't let anything leak out!"

   Once again Keri found herself being led like a small child as thankfully
they left the loathsome scene behind.  Although it was out of character for
her to consider the feelings of another human being, particularly those of
another woman, Keri found herself feeling sorry for Anna Kournikova as she
followed along behind the broad shouldered little man past countless
ghastly looking machines and further sickening examples of young women
being forced to submit to the evil desires of the fiendish men in white
coveralls.

   Upon reaching the rear wall of the facility the Coach turned to the
right, leading Keri past a row of six or eight ominous and all too familiar
pieces of equipment.  Only one of the hideous Cooperation Seats was
currently being used, and Keri was unable to see its occupant as she passed
by because the burly body of a Handler blocked her view.  All she could see
were the slender legs of an unfortunate young girl restrained widely apart
on either side of the man's hips.  As he moved rhythmically in the familiar
motion of love making, Keri could see the muscles of his buttocks flex from
his exertion.  Based upon the diminutive size of her slender legs and small
feet, Keri decided that the girl couldn't have been much older than
thirteen.  As she and the Coach moved past, the young occupant of the
Cooperation Seat endured her lover with customary silence.  In fact, the
only reaction from the youngster that Keri could detect was the flexing of
the girl's small hands in the upper extremity restraints of the evil
apparatus.

   Keri's thoughts were filled with dark vows of vengeance and violence
against the demonic members of this "House of Horrors" as she walked away
from the vile scene and the unlucky little girl.

   In a short distance the rear wall of the facility fell away from them,
and the Coach brought Keri, up short in front of a small alcove, about
twelve feet square with mirrored walls.

   "Here we are," the Coach said, dropping her hand and then stepping over
to a big stainless steel cabinet.  As he opened one of its doors he turned
to Keri and asked, "Are you going to behave yourself, Miss Jensen, or shall
I summon an assistant?"

   Keri stared at him coldly.

   "Answer me, please, young lady," the Coach demanded in an authoritative
voice.  "We have a great deal of work to do, you and I, and before we part
ways today, progress will be made with or without your cooperation.  I can
assure you that there is no lack of qualified help around here should you
elect to be difficult, so the choice is yours," he explained calmly and
reached into the cabinet.

   Hugging herself unconsciously, Keri glanced around dubiously. 
Everywhere she turned her eyes were met with another atrocity.  The big
facility was literally teeming with white clad men, and the air was filled
with their sharply barked demands.  There would no escaping from here she
decided.

   "What do you want me to do?" Keri responded, holding her head high and
trying hard to appear confident and strong.  Sooner or later she would have
her revenge, but now was not the time.

   "I'll take that for a yes," the Coach said as he turned, stooped
slightly and dropped a couple of barbell style weights onto the padded
floor with a "clink".  "Come over here please, Miss Jensen," said the Coach
as he turned back to the open cabinet doors.  "That's right.  Right over
here," he added, tossing a short length of light chain next to the weights
as Keri stepped gingerly onto the red padded mat covering the floor of the
mirrored alcove.  "Right this way, please," said the powerfully built
little man, taking Keri by arm and leading her toward the center of the
recessed area.  Halting her after only a few feet, he then instructed her
to look down.

   At her feet, Keri noticed a row of footprints stenciled side by side in
white and each one numbered.  It took a second, but finally a pattern
emerged, and Keri was about to ask the man what he wanted her to do next
when he answered her question before she could ask it.

   That was another thing that Keri despised about these diabolical fiends,
the way they seemed to know what she was thinking.  It was uncanny, and it
pissed her off.

   "Feet on pair number four, please, Miss Jensen," the Coach stated cooly
and stepped back from her.

   Keri looked down at the white numbered prints again then back up at the
Coach.  "You're kidding, right," she said rather caustically.

   If she understood the pattern correctly, what the man asked was
virtually ludicrous if not physically impossible.  The stenciled footprints
were arranged in numbered pairs.  Pair number one, one left print and one
right, were perhaps eighteen inches apart.  Pair number two were located in
line with and approximately ten inches outside of pair number one, and so
on and so forth with each successive pair set farther apart.  As a result,
the two footprints marked "4", and the reason for Keri's sarcasm, were
separated by nearly five feet.

   "One thing you will soon learn about me, Miss Jensen, is that I take my
work very seriously.  I never kid," the Coach responded.  There wasn't a
hint of malice in his voice.  He was simply stating fact.

   Keri was actually surprised by the vehemence of her reaction to this
remark.  She hadn't realized that her rage was so close to the surface. 
"Your work?  Your work!" she exploded.  "You call all this work!" she
cried, gesticulating wildly about.  "That girl back there, strapped into
one of your horrible chairs couldn't have been any older than thirteen. 
She's just a baby, and one of your perverted buddies was raping her!  It's
not work you disgusting monster; it's torture and rape, and if I ever get
out of this House of Horrors, I'll see to it that you and your friends
spend the rest of your miserable lives in the penitentiary.  Maybe some of
the inmates will show you how it feels to be a "guest"," Keri spat rather
triumphantly.

   During her tirade the Coach stood with his shoulders slightly slumped,
his head bowed and his hands clasped behind his back.  To all outward
appearances, he looked almost remorseful, and Keri for a moment actually
felt she'd gained the upper hand.  In fact, this particular posture the
Coach had assumed had been mistaken for penitence by other Guests in the
past.  To their dismay, however, the girls soon discovered that it was
really the Coach's way of controlling his temper and remaining calm while
he allowed them to vent.  "A good temper tantrum can tire a girl out and
make her more cooperative," the Coach maintained.

   Keri, nearly exhausted from her diatribe, and trembling from the
adrenalin coursing through her system, stood waiting for the stocky little
man to respond.  She'd thought about running, but where too?  She was
surprised, really, that the man hadn't taken some kind of retaliatory
action already, but experience told her that it wouldn't be long in coming.
It rarely paid to argue with these men.

   Keri prepared for the worst, figuring that in another minute or two
she'd be lying flat on her back while a gang of the white clad monsters had
their way with her.  "How many would it be this time," Keri wondered idly.
Last time it was six or eight.  She'd lost count after awhile, and for
three days afterward she was so sore she walked like duck.  And do you
think that stopped them?  No way!  That very night one of the perverts was
waiting in her bed.  Her "Night Partner" they called him.

   Keri was so wrapped up in her dark thoughts that she failed to hear the
man the first time.  "Are you quite finished, now, Miss Jensen?" the Coach
repeated in an even tone of voice.  When Keri just blinked at him stupidly
he continued.  "We don't expect for you to understand or appreciate our
methods, young lady," the Coach said with a wry smile.  "We expect for you
to respond to them and learn," he stated, his voice and his eyes becoming
cold and somewhat menacing.

   Keri, standing naked and alone in front of the Coach, suddenly felt very
exposed and vulnerable, and it was by no means a pleasant feeling.  For a
few seconds she was able to return the man's stare, but soon her will
faltered and she lowered her eyes.

   The Coach who'd stood at this particular crossroad countless times
before, knew all the signs, and stepping beside the girl he offered, "Here,
let me help you, Miss Jensen." She tried at first to tug her arm from his
hands, but quickly resigned herself to the inevitable.  "That's it," the
Coach murmured as he steadied her with his strong arms.  "A little wider,
please, Miss Jensen.  Let's get both our feet on the footprints."

   Keri remembered playing a game called "Twister" when she was younger and
would have laughed had in not been for the gravity of the situation.  Her
inner thighs ached terribly, and she was forced to take great care not to
fall when the coach released her and moved in front of her.

   Kneeling down on one knee on the padded floor the Coach reached out and
placed one big hand onto each of Keri's hips just below her pelvic crests.
Then looking up at her he began moving his hands downward while slowly
kneading her firm flesh.  "You have a very serviceable body, Miss Jensen.
You get a lot of exercise, don't you."

   "I..  Uh huh," Keri nodded dumbly as the man's hands moved down the
outsides of her thighs to her knees.

   "The muscles in your legs are remarkably fit," the Coach commented as he
encircled her right leg with his hands just above the knee.  "In fact, Miss
Jensen, on the outside, you're in pretty good shape, considering your age,"
he said as he worked his way up her leg, sampling the integrity of her
inner thigh muscles along the way.  His remark about her age earned him a
sharp glance from the self-absorbed teenager just as his hands arrived at
the juncture of her legs, and being the professional that he was, the Coach
naturally took advantage of that brief moment of distraction.

   "Be still now, Miss Jensen," the stocky man said in response to her
startled squeal.  "You know the rules by now."

   As usual, he'd caught her completely off guard, and even if she'd had
the grip strength necessary to resist him, by the time Keri thought to bear
down, the Coach's thick middle finger was completely sheathed within her
vagina.

   "You may put your hands on my shoulders if you need to steady yourself,"
the Coach offered when he felt the girl's legs begin to tremble.  Then
pressing the palm of his hand upward against her ample vulva he extended
his finger up into Keri until he felt her cervix beneath his fingertip. 
"That's my girl," the hateful man muttered when he felt a few reactive
contractions.  "Those are the very muscles we need to work on," said the
Coach as he extracted his finger slowly then returned it home with more
enthusiasm.  "Squeeze my finger, Miss Jensen.  That's it.  And again," the
man coached.  Repeatedly he thrust his thick finger deeply into Keri, and
each time, just prior to removing it, he instructed the dazed young woman
to bear down for him.

   This request, like most that the Handlers made of Keri was tremendously
humiliating as intended.  Being forced to endure the man's loathsome touch
was bad enough, but then to actually be coached about something as private
and personal as vaginal muscle control was nothing short of dehumanizing.
To make matters worse, if that were possible, Keri soon discovered that her
legs were becoming so weak that rather than collapse onto the padded floor,
she was compelled to grasp the Coach's shoulders in order to maintain her
balance.

   Meanwhile, the disgusting man continued to delve into Keri's most
personal spaces, his repulsive finger dipping and probing, locating places
inside of her that no one had ever touched before.  Exquisite places,
deeply female places, and in spite of the repugnance she held in her very
soul for him and the rest of the white clad demons, Keri found herself
following his invasive sorties with growing interest with her mind's eye.

   "Harder, please, Miss Jensen," the Coach instructed.  "I know you can do
better.  Now concentrate!" he enjoined.  "Squeeze my finger!"

   "I am, you bssstrd!" Keri hissed in frustration through tightly clenched
teeth.  She couldn't believe this was happening to her.  Never in her
darkest nightmares would she ever have dreamed of being treated in such a
demeaning and humiliating manner.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach commanded and rammed his finger
upward, slamming the heal of his hand forcefully against her pubic mons
with a pleasing "slap", and causing Keri gasp audibly.

   The thrusting and probing went on for what seemed like an eternity until
Keri thought she would lose her mind when abruptly the man stopped, and
with his finger still deeply imbedded in her intimate flesh he ordered,
"Move your feet together, please, Miss Jensen, to position number three."

   Sighing with relief Keri did as she was told and gratefully shifted her
feet to the number three pair of footprints, bringing her aching thighs
together by approximately eighteen inches.

   The Coach got to his feet and stood slightly stooped beside her so as to
maintain good penetration with his impaling digit.  Then with his free
hand, the powerful little man grasped the butt end of Keri's CAP Device,
and with a deft, twisting motion, he extracted the eight inch torpedo
shaped appliance from her rectal passage.  Instantly he felt her clamp down
on the finger in her vagina in reaction to the unexpected emptiness
resulting from the removal of the device.  At the same time, a rather
violent shudder passed through Keri, inspiring a smile of satisfaction to
spread upon the Coach's lips.  For he knew that already the head strong
young woman was becoming accustomed to the fulfilling presence of her CAP
Device which provided her with a stabilizing coherence and a means by which
she might focus her thoughts.

   [Author's Note: A great deal of history and knowledge is written about
Continuous Anal Presence and the CAP Device throughout The Youth Training
Center saga.  In short, the CAP Principle and the use of these
extraordinary devices plays a pivotal role in the conditioning program of
every Guest of the Center.  - SM]

   Unconsciously Keri glanced downward and gave the Coach a quizzical look
in reaction to unforseen feelings of disorientation and emptiness.  Then as
if in answer to her, the professional man introduced the first finger of
his left hand into that space so recently vacated.  With a precious,
huffing expiration of breath the confused teenager rose up onto her tiptoes
as the Coach lifted her between her trembling thighs with a finger in each
of her abdominal passages.  Keri then groaned audibly as the horrible
little man proceeded to "lift and separate", pulling upward with his hands
and outward with his fingers again and again until he felt he'd achieved
adequate penetration.

   "Now, Miss Jensen," the Coach began.  "I want you to concentrate and use
your God given abilities," he stated, looking up at her sternly.  "Squeeze
my finger, please," he requested, hooking his finger and pressing on a
location inside of Keri's colon/rectal passage that suddenly made her feel
like she'd sat on a basketball.  Immediately her tummy bulged outward, and
she reflexively clamped down on the offending mass.  Simultaneously the
infrequently used muscles surrounding her vaginal passage also contracted.

   The fact that the internal musculature encircling both abdominal
passages within the human female are sympathetically linked is common
knowledge for practically any tenured Handler, and not surprisingly, the
Coach, who'd worked with countless young ladies of all ages over the years,
knew precisely how to inspire these muscle groups to respond on demand.

   "That's much better," he encouraged as after repositioning his finger in
Keri's vagina, with the other, he pressed once more upon that special spot,
very similar to an acupressure point, located on the anterior wall of the
rectal passage, approximately four inches internal to the anal sphincter.
What Keri experienced was the immediate sensation of having a very full
bowel on the verge of an uncontrolled evacuation.

   "That's right, Miss Jensen," the Coach complimented the uncomfortable
teenager as she instinctively clutched at both of his fingers
simultaneously.  "Just think about the last time you really had to "go",
and there wasn't a bathroom nearby," he suggested while gradually
withdrawing the finger in Keri's birth canal as the contraction eased. 
Then he repeated the sequence.  Thrusting his finger deeply into the pretty
teenager he quickly located her cervical os with his fingertip, and so on
and so forth.

   For five minutes or more, the professional man worked with Keri in this
manner.  Taking advantage of one of the many niceties of the female
reproductive anatomy, the Coach used his anal acupressure point to
encourage the young woman's sympathetically linked vaginal muscles to
contract upon demand.  Furthermore, each time she bore down on him, he
slowly withdrew his finger from her birth canal, training Keri, to squeeze
upon the egress of a vaginal mass, a fundamental element of vaginal muscle
control.

   Later, after she'd mastered "the basics", the Jensen girl, like all the
Guests of the Center, would be taught to "uncouple" the rectal and vaginal
muscle sets, regulating each independently of the other.  Keri hadn't
realized it at the time, but that is precisely what she'd observed Miss
Kournikova learning to do.  It takes concentration and timing, but in order
for a young lady to entertain multiple partners, she must learn to provide
each with the individual attention he requires and deserves.

   Keri seemed to lose track of time as with each passing moment, her
thoughts gradually turned inward.  Once powerful feelings of insult and
outrage slowly faded into ghost impressions and uncertainties, and in her
mind's eye Keri envisioned the fluffy convolutions of her vaginal walls
fluttering and undulating around an unseen presence, seeking to hold it
inside.  Once or twice during the early minutes of the exercise, Keri had
shaken herself out of her growing stupor long enough to recognize that she
was being violated, but since the ensuing emotions were so quickly and
efficiently attenuated in favor of more pertinent perceptions, Keri had
soon become focused on more important things.

   She had no idea for how long the Coach manipulated her, but suddenly she
became aware of the fact that she was completely empty.  For the first time
in over a week, there was nothing, either human or artificial in either of
her abdominal passages.  Keri Jensen existed alone, and surprisingly, she
found that thought to be somewhat disconcerting.  Practically from the
moment she'd regained consciousness in the "Recovery Room" of the Center,
the men in white had seen to it that Keri was provided with regular
"company".  When she wasn't actually entertaining a lover in some fashion,
a volunteer staff member was appointed to provide manual anal presence
until such a time as she could be properly measured and fitted with her
first CAP Device.  From that moment on, Keri was never alone.  Aided by the
mental clarity provided by Thelazine, the once independent young woman
began to view the constant sensation of fullness in her core as being one
of completeness.  Keri would never have believed that what she once thought
of as an instrument of debasement and torture, would one day become an
intergral part of her persona.  Even now as Keri awaited an uncertain
future, she experienced unexpected feelings of loss, emptiness and even
longing.

   "Very well, then," the Coach remarked.  "Now that you understand what is
expected of you, Miss Jensen, we can put together a program of exercise
tailored specifically to your needs."

   Leaving Keri to ponder his last remark, the Coach stepped over to the
metal cabinet and made his selection.  When he returned he held an object,
that even in her slightly dazed state of mind, caused Keri to gasp in
shock. She'd seen photographs of such things, but hadn't ever seen one up
close.  She and a couple of her girlfriends had watched a porn video once
with nervous excitement.  In the film a young woman had used one of the
things on herself, and even though it looked like she was enjoying herself,
but Keri and her friends had unanimously agreed that they would never want
to try anything like that themselves.

   "Dildos they were called," Keri remembered, and at that particular
moment she was staring wide eyed at a very large and particularly life-like
example of one.  Ten inches long and two inches in diameter, the artificial
penis was made of clear acrylic.  Its shaft was embossed with heavy raised
ridges, simulating veins.  The rather bulbous head of the thing was
slightly larger in diameter than the shaft, and appeared blunter than the
few "real life" male organs Keri had seen during her limited sexual career.
As the Coach moved toward her Keri unconsciously dropped a hand to her
belly, imagining how the thing would feel inside of her.  Staring in horror
at the evil instrument as the Coach knelt down in front of her, Keri
briefly entertained thoughts of running.  "But to where?" she thought
looking wildly about the huge chamber.

   "Mm..mmm," Keri whined from between clenched teeth when the horrid thing
first made contact with her intimate flesh.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach ordered in response to her complaint
as he wiped the bulbous head of the phallus slowly back and forth between
her heavy labia, coating it with her own natural lubricants.

   "Mmmmhhhhmmmm," the attractive teenager exhaled noisily as she felt
herself begin to dilate around the blunted tip of the ten inch artificial
penis.

   "Relax your muscles, Miss Jensen, and allow yourself to be entered," the
horrible little man instructed as with a slow twisting motion, he gradually
drove the broad head upward into Keri.

   The teenager's flat tummy bulged outward in response to the growing
pressure in her abdomen, and her thighs suddenly felt weak and rubbery.  A
powerful tremor passed through her as the clear plastic mass gradually
appropriated every available cubic inch of space in her birth canal.  Keri
couldn't remember every having felt so full down there before.  Her current
love interest, Jeffery, was a good man and seemed to care a great deal for
her, but compared to massive artificial presence occupying her presently,
Jeff was sadly lacking.  Keri groaned audibly when her left knee suddenly
buckled and she lurched toward the Coach, grasping his broad shoulders just
barely in time to avert a fall.

   "Steady, Miss Jensen," the man ordered, rotating the device from side to
side.  Inside of Keri the broad, flat head of the big dildo drove upward
into the fornix, seating itself deeply within her.  Keri Jensen was "Fully
Involved".  Now the real work could begin.

   "Take a deep breath, and relax your muscles for a minute," the Coach
offered in an almost kindly voice, as he held onto the butt end of the
phallus.  Approximately two inches extended from between Keri's labia,
meaning she contained about eight inches.  Performing a quick mental
calculation while the teenager regained her composure, the Coach concluded
that given the formula for computing the volume of a cylinder; pi times
diameter, times length, Miss Jensen carried approximately 50.24 cubic
inches of mass within her vaginal passage.

   "Not too bad," the Coach muttered.  Fifty cubic inches fell within the
acceptable range for vaginal Passage Volume, although it certainly could be
improved upon, especially at her age.  Keri would, of course, be measured
more thoroughly at another time.  With the aid of some specialized
instruments the volumes of both of her abdominal passages would be
determined to within a few cubic centimeters, and added together would
yield her total Passage Volume, an important personal measurement for a
young lady.

   However, as most men know, volume in a girl isn't everything.  In fact,
internal volume without the benefits of fitness and control can make for a
highly unsatisfactory partner.  Most young ladies arriving at the Center
are capable of accepting a lover, with the exception of the very youngest
Guests, perhaps, but most lack conditioning and composure.  Their internal
muscle groups are generally out of shape and unable to sustain a meaningful
embrace for any period of time.  At TYTC this is known as Internal Grip
Strength or IGS, and like most young women, Keri Jensen was sadly lacking
in this area.

   To a degree vaginal and anal muscle agility comes naturally to a girl,
but the strength of her internal embrace and the ability to use it
effectively are achieved only with patient tutoring and
practice...practice...practice.  Using a wide variety of specialized
training routines, including Kegel exercise and other regimens developed by
the TYTC staff, the Guests learn to maintain fitness and stamina, and are
taught to use their God given talents more productively.  The Guests'
personal measurements, including Passage Volume and Internal Grip Strength
are monitored and recorded on a regular basis and are used to chart
progress or the lack thereof.

   At TYTC a third and equally significant female attribute is also
considered, and that is Muscle Memory.  Muscle Memory or "M&M's" is a
function of muscle resilience and elasticity.  Much like a pressurized
cylinder is hydrostatically tested periodically, the Guests' M&M's are
measured routinely and logged in each girl's permanent record.  Together
with Passage Volume and IGS, M&M's are used to calculate a young lady's
true Carrying Capacity.

   As you might imagine, The Coach was personally responsible for the
development of many of the specialized exercise programs mentioned earlier,
and one of these was Vaginal Weight Lifting.

   "Settle down now, Miss Jensen, and let's begin, shall we?" the man
remarked in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.  "When I tell you to do so, I
want you to bear down on the instrument." With that, he pushed upward on
the sinister device, crushing the head of the thing tightly up into the
deepest part of Keri and causing her to inhale sharply.  "Why don't you
give it a little test squeeze, Miss Jensen.  Will you do that for me,
please," the Coach solicited in his calm and clinical manner.

   Keri stared at him in astonishment and was about to voice her
displeasure, but fortunately for her she thought better of that idea.  Keri
had managed to regain a modicum of composure, and the cramping that had
initially wracked her had thankfully lessened, leaving her with an
uncomfortable sort of bloated feeling in her belly.  She tried not to think
about the source of that bloating and what the maligned little man was
doing to her, but he seemed bent upon humiliating and demeaning her in
spite of her best efforts to resist.  As if violating her with the brutal
device wasn't bad enough, the Coach expected for her to participate in her
own rape.  Not for the last time she vowed to get even with these demonic
perverts, but exactly when that happy day would come was highly uncertain.
Once again Keri Jensen was forced to abandon her self-respect, and comply
with the wishes of a partner not of her choosing, and in so doing she
unwittingly progressed another step forward along the road to right
thinking.

   Carefully she flexed her muscles around the invasive mass, gauging its
dimensions and depth, and thanks to the Thelazine enhanced nerve endings
within her internal reproductive system, a surprisingly clear image of the
abominable phallus formed in Keri's mind.  She imagined that she could
visualize its every contour and feel each and every simulated vein along
its shaft.

   "Harder, Miss Jensen.  Visualize a man's cock within you.  Feel its bulk
and its weight.  Bear down harder, please.  Embrace it.  Hold it inside of
you, Miss Jensen," the horrible little man instructed.  "Do you understand
me, Miss Jensen?"

   Keri's mind reeled with a tumult of thoughts and emotions.  She was
incensed and outraged, of course, but the sensation of the consuming bulk
in her belly tended to occupy a goodly portion of her thinking.  It was
terribly distracting.  She nodded dumbly toward the man kneeling before
her, his hand between her legs.  Again she flexed her muscles, harder this
time.  The effort made her tummy ache a little, but it didn't really hurt
in the true sense of the word.

   "You're pushing, Miss Jensen.  Don't push.  I want you to learn to pull
with your muscles," the Coach said to her.

   "Huhh...w..what?" Keri asked breathlessly, glancing downward.

   "Concentrate, Miss Jensen.  Think about the time you had to use the
restroom badly, but none was available.  Use those muscles," the Coach
explained patiently.  "In a minute I'm going to let go, and I expect you to
hold the instrument inside of you.  Grip it tightly and don't relax until I
tell you to do so.  Do you understand, Miss Jensen?"

   "Nnn..  I..I..  W..wait!" Keri stammered.

   "Begin," the Coach told her and released the acrylic penis.

   Almost immediately the heavy object fell from within Keri and landed
between her feet.  The sound it made was much like that of a large wet
salami slapping down onto the rubber mat.  Keri stared down at the
loathsome abomination for a second before glancing sheepishly in the
Coach's direction.

   "My dear Miss Jensen," the older man began, with obvious displeasure. 
"That was a highly unsatisfactory performance.  As I suspected, we have a
lot of work to do," he admonished her as he reached down and picked up the
disgusting plastic implement.  He held it up so Keri could get a better
look at it, and as he did, he ran his index finger down the length of its
shaft.  "It appears that you are self-lubricating acceptably, Miss Jensen,"
he told her as he rubbed his fingers together.

   Even from a few feet away, Keri could plainly see that the Coach's
fingertips glistened with moisture, and she knew all too well from whence
that moisture came.  In spite of the utterly deplorable circumstances in
which she found herself, Keri recognized that she was becoming aroused
somehow, at least physically, and the knowledge of this was deeply
troubling to the pretty teenager.  How could she be responding to this
despicable man's attentions, physically or otherwise?  What had happened to
her resolve?  "Was she turning into some kind of slut or something?" Keri
shivered at the thought.

   The Coach waited patiently, watching the girl's expressions.  He knew
precisely what was going through her mind, for he'd seen the very same
reaction hundreds of times before.  She was trying to come to grips with
the fact that her Thelazine enhanced reproductive physiology was exhibiting
signs of sexual arousal.  As intended that realization was extremely
disturbing to the confused young woman, and would eventually go a long way
toward eroding her confidence and overall self-image.  And as was clearly
noted in her file, Miss Keri Marie Jensen had many, many years of societal
prejudice and misconceived notions regarding her roll as a female that
would need to be unlearned before any real progress could be made.  The
Coach was confident, however, that eventually Keri, like every young lady
he'd come to know over the years, would come around and join the TYTC
Family.  It was only a matter of time.

   If the truth be known, considering her age and background, the
attractive eighteen year old was making surprisingly good progress. 
Anthony, her Principal Handler, had made some complimentary entries in her
records recently, indicating that in spite of her overall arrogant
demeanor, the attractive teenager was beginning cooperate with at least
some of her partners.  Additionally Keri hadn't necessitated the need for a
Group Corrective Opportunity nor had she been CC'd in nearly five days,
which in itself is quite remarkable for a Guest during her first month in
residence.  Naturally there were a few protocols that she continued to balk
at, but no one was in a hurry.  There would be plenty of time for Keri to
adapt.

   The Headmaster had made it abundantly clear to her fianc,, Mr.  Baldwin,
that often as not a girl such as Keri would require several months in order
to become accustomed to her newly assumed responsibilities.  The young man
had been quite understanding, really, declaring that if what he'd been told
was true about the remarkable transformations one could expect in graduates
of the Center, then it would be well worth the wait.

   Ironically at that very moment Keri was leaning upon her belief that her
beau, Jeffery Baldwin, would soon rescue her, to regain her composure and
buoy up her flagging confidence.  Visions of Jeffery and his squad of SWAT
team members bursting into the disgusting gymnasium, and sweeping the
cowardly band of white clad rapists ahead of them like so many sheep,
allowed Keri to regroup.  She drew a deep draft of cool air into her lungs,
and then squaring her shoulders, she glared down at the hateful little man
at her feet through squinted eyes and with all the contempt she could
muster.

   The Coach, of course, identified the girl's posturing for what it was; a
last gasp confidence builder, and acted accordingly.  With little to no
forewarning he dropped his hand between Keri's legs, located her vaginal
portal with one deft swipe along her carnal cleft from back to front with
the head of the clear acrylic instrument, followed by a swift twisting
thrust, he drove big dildo home again, clearly to the surprise and dismay
of the pretty teenager.  The professional man couldn't help but smile as
her once defiant facial expression instantly changed to one of stunned
disbelief.  Keri's hazel eyes grew round, her mouth fell open and a barely
audible groan escaped her lips as the Coach skillfully seated the broad
head of the instrument deeply into the fornix area of her birth canal. 
Then making eye contact with her, he stated in a calm voice as though he
was passing the time of day, "Let's try again, shall we, Miss Jensen." He
pushed upward firmly on the butt end of the impaling plastic penis, causing
Keri to rise up onto the balls of her feet in order to lessen the consuming
pressure in her belly.

   "Mmmphh," she grunted softly through her nose and shut her eyes tightly,
temporarily blotting out the heinous scene of the TYTC Gymnasium and the
diabolical Coach who ran it.

   "Be still, Miss Jensen and look at me, please," the man said, dragging
Keri back to the present.

   Opening her eyes she stared at him in stunned silence.  In her belly the
broad head of the reprehensible dildo delved ever deeper, forcing aside
moist, convoluted tissues and touching places once untouched.  Keri began
to have difficulty focusing on anything other than the mass within her. 
Her eyes were turning inward.  Keri was slowly becoming Womb Centered.

   "That's better," the Coach murmured, noting the somewhat absent
expression on her the teenager's face.  "I want you to concentrate this
time, young lady," he went on.  "Turn your thoughts inward.  Feel the
weight, Miss Jensen.  Grasp and pull with your muscles.  You have the
natural ability, but like most young women, you simply were never taught to
use it."

   Keri couldn't believe what she was hearing.  "The man was an insane
monster.  In fact, the whole morning was insane!" Keri concluded.  "Was
this really happening?" her beleaguered thoughts queried repeatedly,
seeking to escape this reality and move into another less distressing one,
but each time she thought she might actually find a way out, the steady
thrusting pressure deep within the core of her femininity drew Keri back to
where she stood, feet widely separated upon the vinyl padding of the TYTC
Gymnasium.  The little man kneeling before her was speaking again.

   "Are you ready, Miss Jensen?" he asked.

   "H...huh?  Wha...what?" Keri asked stupidly.  In answer she heard the
sickening "slap" of the heavy phallus dropping to the mat once again.

   The Coach said nothing for practically a full minute, after retrieving
the apparatus from between Keri's feet.  Then looking up at her he spoke,
"This simply will not do.  Miss Jensen." His voice carried no signs of
vehemence, but its tone had definitely changed.  For the first time since
meeting the strange little man Keri felt the prick of fear.  "You appear to
be unwilling to concentrate and to focus your efforts, young lady." He
stared up at her ominously.  "This instrument weighs only slightly more
than one pound," the Coach said, rising to his feet.  "Furthermore, it's
intended to be used as a 'handle' only," he added, slapping the clear
acrylic phallus lightly against his palm.

   Although Keri was sorely tempted to tell him to go straight to hell,
based upon the hint of malevolence she thought she'd just detected in the
man's voice, she elected to remain silent for the moment.  Besides, she had
no idea what he was talking about.  "A handle?" she puzzled.  Once again
her rage began to perk to the surface like molten lava.  All Keri knew for
certain was that the filthy little man seemed completely at ease with
having just raped her.  "Any day now," she muttered under her breath.  "Any
day now her 'Prince Charming' would come for her, and then all of these
perverts would pay!" Keri assured herself.  Meanwhile, however, the head
pervert was speaking to her again.

   "What we are trying to accomplish, Miss Jensen, is to strengthen your
pitifully inadequate internal musculature.  Although you seem fully capable
of accommodating a reasonably well proportioned partner, it is quite
obvious that you have never concerned yourself with your performance.  This
exercise should be easy for a woman of your age and experience.  Just
yesterday I had a young lady maintain a grip on an eight pound weight for a
full minute." He then fell silent, giving the uneasy teenager a chance to
ponder her fate.

   For an uncomfortably long period of time, the Coach stood before the
head strong young woman, staring at her dourly.  Then without a word, he
moved to the stainless steel storage cabinet, and after wiping the big
acrylic phallus clean with a towel, he returned it to a shelf containing
several similar appliances of varying sizes and shapes.

   Keri watched the Coach out of the corner of her eye, and as he closed
the doors of the metal cabinet she dared to hope that he was giving up on
her, at least for the time being.  She also mistakenly allowed herself to
believe that she'd won another battle.

   Passive resistance had worked for her more than once during her period
of imprisonment by these perverted men in white.  It took tremendous force
of will for her to disassociate herself with the atrocities being performed
upon her body, but Keri possessed such strength of character; at least in
the beginning.

   Just that morning, however, while one of the foul monsters was having
his way with her in the shower facility, Keri'd been shocked by the
unexpected onset of physical sensations and emotions she'd not experienced
in a long time.  As a shimmering warmth began to spread throughout her
belly and down the insides of her thighs she'd caught herself leaning back
against the man who thrust into her from behind.  Keri loathed having sex
in this manner, finding it demeaning and very unladylike.  In fact, prior
to finding herself interned in the House of Horrors, she'd never allowed
anyone to take her from behind.  In any case, it had represented a
considerable blow to the ego of the overbearing teenager when she'd
suddenly realized the degree of her involvement in what was nothing short
of a forcible, public rape.  Ever since that unsettling experience, Keri'd
done her best to maintain an air of self-assurance in her dealings with the
monsters in white, however, the murmurs of self-doubt lingered at the
periphery of her conscious mind, whispering to her and slowly eroding the
foundations of her self-image.  As Keri Jensen would discover in time, the
professionals at The Youth Training Center knew exactly how to capitalize
on any chink in her armor, meticulously enlarging the emotional breach
until the shield wall of her feminine belief system eventually crashed down
in ruin.

   "Pay attention, Miss Jensen!" the Coach demanded.  Keri looked at him
blankly.  "I instructed you to move your feet to Position One.  Do so now,
please," he said in a way that left the attractive teen with little doubt
that he was losing patience with her very quickly.  Keri kept her head and
slowly moved her feet together as the wicked man stepped to her side.  Then
placing one hand onto her tummy and the other on the small of her back, the
Coach guided Keri, seeing to it that her feet were positioned just so.

   "You have an attention deficiency, don't you, Miss Jensen," he said to
Keri as without compunction he moved both hands downward simultaneously
until his fingertips met between her legs.

   "No...I," the pretty teen answered shaking her head as she glanced down
quickly in reaction to the latest invasion upon her privacy.  He'd caught
her completely off guard again.  "Do these men have no shame?" Keri caught
herself thinking as she felt the man's fingertips seeking her primary
abdominal entrances.

   "Oh, I think you do, Miss Jensen," the Coach countered.  "I think that
what we have mistaken for obstinance is in reality an inability to
prioritize and to focus, but you may rest assured that we will adjust your
routine right away in order to accommodate your needs."

   Keri turned and made eye contact with the repugnant little man at her
side.  She opened her mouth to rebut him, but all that came forth was a
shuddering groan as the Coach's middle fingers each found an opening, and
before Keri realized it, she was compromised.  Her expression clearly
depicted her astonishment and humiliation as the Coach lifted upward then
pulled outward with each hand, lifting and separating Keri while expertly
positioning his invading digits so as to deliver the greatest degree of
presence.

   "Nnnn..uuungh!" Keri grunted viscerally as she rose up onto her tiptoes
in an effort to relieve the tensile stress on her perineum.  She felt as is
she was being torn in half.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach barked as he shoved his two fingers
together then pulled them apart repeatedly, working the girl, loosening her
up and generating some very pleasing moist, snapping sounds.  Keri
shuddered violently as the hateful little man manipulated her private flesh
in this utterly dehumanizing manner.

   "That's the idea, Miss Jensen," the Coach vocalized as he lifted her up
onto her toes again and again.  "Concentrate on your pussy, and let's work
those muscles.  Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax. 
That's right.  That's the way.  Keep doing that, Miss Jensen. 
Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax," the despicable man
coached her as if she was performing a cheerleading routine.

   "Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax," he continued
until Keri thought she would go out of her mind.  She couldn't remember
ever having been so humiliated, and again she vowed vengeance upon The
Training Center and the band of degenerates in its employ.

   "Pay attention, Miss Jensen!" the Coach snapped as though he could read
her thoughts and knew somehow that her mind had wandered. 
"Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax...Squeeze..Relax...
Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax."

   Long before Keri exhibited any outward signs of deliberate
participation, her female reproductive anatomy began to respond to the
Coach's attentions encouraged by the marvelous drug, Thelazine.  As
mentioned earlier the teenager was already selflubricating, and although
she hadn't realized it yet, Keri's Vaginal Pelvic Floor Muscles had begun
to move in time to her partner's cadence as well.  Were the Coach to
continue, her hips would soon begin to roll, subtly at first, and then with
increasing enthusiasm until in the end the young teenager would become an
integral participant in the activity.

   "Yes, Coach," the man in white spoke with courtesy and respect.

   Keri glanced at the guy reflexively and was immediately reprimanded. 
"Pay attention, Miss Jensen!  Eyes to the front, and concentrate," the
Coach barked.  "Squeeze..Relax...  Squeeze..Relax..."

   With an effort the attractive teenager returned her gaze to the mirrored
wall ahead of her, where her own miserable reflection rose up onto the
balls of her feet again and again.  The newest arrival stood off to one
side behind the Coach and at such an angle that Keri couldn't see him in
the mirror, but during that one quick glance she'd noticed that he was both
large and powerfully built.  Curiously, he looked somehow familiar, but how
could that be?  In any case, Keri had the sickening suspicion that she and
the big Handler were about to get better acquainted.

   The Coach addressed the man, and as he did he slipped his fingers out of
Keri who slowly lowered her heals to the mat and sighed quietly.  "Good
morning, Matthew.  Thank you for responding so promptly."

   Keri shuddered and struggled to suppress a groan of disgust as after
placing one hand onto the small of her back, the revolting little man
traced with the middle finger of his other hand from her closely cropped
pubic bush upward over her rounded tummy, leaving a pronounced trail of
vaginal fluid behind.  Keri refused to look at him, knowing full well that
he was smiling at her.

   "Always ready to lend a hand," the other man replied in the cheerful
manner that Keri hated so.  "Besides, Jack and I had just finished up with
Miss Kournikova's morning 'doubles match' when you beeped me, so I'm free
for awhile."

   "That's where she'd seen the man before," Keri thought to herself.  "He
was the one whom she'd watched sodomize Anna Kournikova.  Was there no end
to the madness?" Keri wondered dejectedly.

   "How did it go with Miss Kournikova today?" the Coach inquired as he
once again knelt on the padded mat next to Keri.

   "She's still having difficulty mastering her passage management
routines," the Handler named Matthew explained as he circled slowly around
Keri, studying her with a clinical eye.  "In particular when it comes to
alternating control.  She seems quite capable of entertaining multiple
partners now without additional supervision which represents a major leap
forward for our little tennis star.  You remember what a handful she was
early on." Both men nodded and rolled their eyes.

   Because no one would ever think to countermand his instructions here in
the TYTC Gymnasium, the Coach was careful to couch his remarks as casual
suggestions so as not to inadvertently usurp his colleague's authority. 
Miss Kournikova had been officially assigned to Matthew by her original
Handler, Rick Adams who'd taken over as Headmaster upon Mr.  North's
retirement.  There was no question that Matthew was a gifted and capable
Handler.  He'd started as a Transport Tech eight years ago and quickly
worked his way up through the ranks, by demonstrating such desirable
personal qualities as intuitiveness, professionalism and patience.  His
exceptional progress with the audacious blond tennis celebrity was
certainly proof of Matthew's abilities as a Handler, for to say that Miss
Kournikova was a "handful" in the beginning could easily qualify as the
understatement of the century.

   "I've recently reprogrammed two of our "Silent Partners" to provide
alternating multipassage impetus, and if you're interested, perhaps we
might schedule Miss Kournikova for a couple of hours of workout time and
see how she responds."

   Stopping directly in front of Keri, Matthew addressed his more tenured
colleague.  "That is an excellent suggestion, Coach.  Jack was going to run
her down to Cleaning and Hygiene following this morning's workout, and then
I believe she's scheduled for a GYN exam just before lunchtime."

   Standing virtually toe to toe with Keri as he spoke, the Handler
scrutinized her from mere inches away, and all the while he maintained a
perfectly neutral facial expression.  His close proximity to her was very
intimidating and awkward for Keri who, of course, was expected to maintain
direct eye contact with the man.  She picked up on much of what the two men
were discussing, and although she didn't understand some of the technical
stuff, Keri heard enough to start the pent up anger, seething just beneath
the surface of her consciousness, perking again and on its way to a rolling
boil.

   "How could these slimy bastards treat another human being in such a
manner!" her outrage cried as she stared into Matthew's dark eyes.  Keri'd
long ago come to the conclusion that the Handlers were all totally insane;
every last one of them, but were they completely devoid of compassion as
well?  "Have you no conscience at all?" she marveled incredulously.  "How
can you discuss the methodical rape of a young woman and feel nothing?"
Keri's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she fought to control her mounting
rage.  "You're all nothing more than a pack of animals; aren't you?" she
hissed silently, and if thoughts could kill there wouldn't have beeen a
soul left alive in the TYTC Gymnasium.  She felt instantly better, having
arrived at that conclusion, and as a fleeting sense of confidence washed
over her, Keri's chin rose a tiny, tiny bit.

   First of all, what Keri failed to fully understand with regards to her
dealings with members of the TYTC staff was just how incredibly perceptive
these men really were, and for this reason she would continue to
misunderstand their motives and underestimate their capabilities. 
Secondly, as we all know, thoughts cannot kill, and although Keri had
managed to dig deep and find another small reserve of inner strength from
which she could draw, her confidence would be short lived, and no matter
how hard she tried to wish these men in white to death, they were not going
anywhere and neither was she.

   Standing eye to eye with Keri, Matthew caught every nuance of her facial
expression and body language.  After observing her for only a few moments
there was no doubt in his mind that this young woman was allowing herself
to become overly distracted by anger.  Even before the Coach confirmed it
Matthew had diagnosed Keri as having an attention deficiency.  Many young
ladies did when they first come into residence, and it seemed that the
older they were, the worse the problem could be.  The treatment, of course,
would be to provide the Miss Jensen with enough structured activities to
keep her mind occupied and focused in a more constructive direction.

   And that is precisely why the Coach had called upon Matthew; not just
for his perceptiveness and intuition, although Matt was blessed with both.
The young Handler also enjoyed a reputation of a different nature.

   In addition to qualities such as intelligence and common sense, physical
prowess is also a very important attribute the Center looks for in choosing
its employees.  The very nature of a TYTC Handler's daily routine requires
him (or her) to be in top notch physical shape.  A Handler must be able to
maintain control of his charges without having to resort to violence.  He
must be capable of stepping in and defusing a problem quickly and
efficiently before the perpetrator can cause injury to herself or to
others, and more often than not, this requires good old-fashioned, brute
strength and agility.  For this reason, the vast majority of men in the
employ of The Youth Training Center are powerfully built and very athletic.

   Matthew had these qualities in spades.  At six feet, three inches in
height and two hundred thirty-five pounds, there were precious few
situations involving the Guests that he could not handle.  Matthew's
reputation among his peers, however, wasn't about strength in the true
sense of the word.  More so it involved stamina, stamina of a sexual
nature. Rumor had it amongst the rank and file that Matthew could stay with
any three young ladies.  He is said have, on more than one occasion, worked
with a Guest until she passed out from sheer fatigue, and all the while
maintaining flawless control of her level of arousal.  Matthew wasn't an
overly large man with regard to the size and girth of his penis, however,
what he had, he wielded with remarkable skill.  The standing joke was that
you didn't want to ask Matthew to join your Corrective Copulation session
(CC) or Group Cooperation Opportunity (GCO), because no one else would get
a turn.

   A large part of a TYTC Handler's training involves learning how to
control one's own degree of ardor as well as managing the level of arousal
his Guest/Partner will achieve during a given engagement.  Handler
Candidates spend many hours in training in the company of young ladies
known to be difficult or deficient in some fashion.  In a supervised
environment the trainees master the subtleties of control and hone their
problem solving abilities long before they must interact with the general
population.  It's a demanding occupation requiring exceptional presence of
mind and self-discipline.  Not every candidate makes the grade, but those
who do join the ranks of a select group of individuals unrivaled in their
ability to anticipate and train the human female.

   In addition to having a reputation for stamina "in the sack", Matthew
was also known for his exceptional recuperative powers.  Not ten minutes
earlier he'd finished up with the Kournikova woman after having worked with
her vaginally by himself for nearly an hour.  Then in concert with another
Handler, he'd participated in a menage a trois with the young, blond,
tennis celebrity in which Matthew had administered the anal portion of the
engagement.

   As mentioned earlier, Anna Kournikova was assigned to Matthew who
oversaw her training program.  He was her Principal Handler.  Because she
was an accomplished athlete, and quite fit, to say nothing of her negative
attributes such as stubbornness and arrogance, the Administrative
Department elected to turn the feisty blond over to Matthew, believing that
he would be best suited for the lead position.  Other's assisted, of
course, but it was he who scheduled her training sessions and monitored her
progress.  Things were a bit tumultuous in the beginning, but Matthew
quickly proved that he was indeed the right man for the job.  Miss
Kournikova could be headstrong and impertinent, prone to tempestuous but
not wholly unpredictable flare-ups of unhealthy behavior, but like any
female she also responded to a well defined set of guidelines, proven
effective with hundreds of young women over a span of nearly twenty years.

   Ten months ago, Miss Kournikova became a Guest of The Youth Training
Center, and in spite of a somewhat "rocky" beginning, she has made
remarkable progress.  Due primarily to the efforts and guidance of Matthew
Hollister.  A lot of work still remained with regards to the young
celebrity's journey along that "road less traveled", but all in all she was
doing exceptionally well.  Matthew was quite proud of her.  This morning's
activities had marked Miss Kournikova's fourth multiple partner engagement.
Granted, she needed to practice her passage management protocols, but
considering she'd only been accepting partners anally without the need for
restraint for less than three weeks, the session this morning had gone very
smoothly.  Both Matthew and his colleague, Jack had inseminated her, and
because the high strung blond had accepted their joint offerings silently
and tractably, Matt had rewarded her by staying with her for a few minutes
following his ejaculation, and then allowing her to achieve orgasm; a
privilege which must always be earned.

   Soon Matthew would be called upon to perform once more, and everyone
knew he was up to it, particularly the Coach.  From his kneeling position
beside the young woman the senior Handler exchanged unspoken instructions
with his younger colleague.  Both men knew the routine, and as the Coach
picked up the black torpedo shaped CAP Device and readied it for insertion,
Matthew held the Jensen girl's attention.  She bristled a bit when he
reached down and began tugging almost playfully at her sparse pubic curls.
Her hazel eyes grew wide for a second and then bored into Matthew with all
the vehemence and malice she could muster, but to her credit, she remained
silent.

   "When did you last entertain a lover, Miss Jensen?" the young Handler
asked, catching Keri off guard with his question.

   She'd been steeling herself against the loathsome Standard Greeting
which she knew was inevitable, and therefor was expecting a more innocuous
question; her name, for example.  Keri held her breath, feeling the
demented man's fingers toy with her soft golden curls, tugging here and
there between her thighs, then up to her prominent mons and back down
between her legs again.  She knew full well that any second now the demon
in white would push one or more of his filthy fingers up inside of her as
casually as though he were shaking her hand.

   "Open your eyes, Miss Jensen, and answer my question, please," the
Handler ordered.

   Thankfully he removed his hand from between her thighs, at least for the
time being.  She hadn't realized that she'd shut her eyes.  Keri knew that
was against the rules.  The monsters in white always insisted that she look
them directly in the eye while they molested her.

   "I..I..  B..but," Keri stammered stupidly while trying to collect her
thoughts.

   Meanwhile her tormentor moved his big hands to her breasts, hefting
first one and then the other.  Then taking her right nipple between his
thumb and index finger, the Handler repeated his request.  Something which
didn't happen too often.

   "It's a simple question, Miss Jensen," Matthew stated succinctly.  He
watched her face closely as he shook her breast gently from side to side,
holding her by the nipple.  She was definitely disoriented and flustered,
but beneath that thin layer of confusion an intense loathing seethed. 
Matthew could see it in her eyes, churning and bubbling like magma.  It was
his responsibility now to help the young woman to identify her genuine
priorities and to focus upon a new reality.  She must be willing to cast
away the trappings of her old life with all of its myths and vagaries, and
recognize her true place in the grand scheme of things.  Only then could
she hope to become a fully functional female.

   "Jesus, she's angry!" Matthew thought to himself, but he knew that her
condition was temporary.  "She's only been with us for a little over a
week," he reflected.  "And she no doubt still thinks of our techniques as
molestation and rape," Matt reminded himself as he dropped the right breast
and then carefully lifted the left, noting its mass and its weight.  He
glanced again, unnoticed by the girl, in the Coach's direction and received
an almost imperceptible nod.

   "When did you last take a lover?" Matthew asked, locking eyes with the
young woman.  "You had a night partner last night, did you not?"

   "She's regaining her composure," the Handler noted.  Her anger was
nearer the surface, ready to spew forth and incinerate him.

   "Answer me, Miss Jensen," the young man in white ordered, using just the
right amount if command intonation.  Her eyes widened ever so slightly; and
a wash of fear overpowered the hate momentarily, but she remained silent.
Cradling her breast in his left hand, Matthew pinched a tiny bit of satiny
flesh at the very perimeter of the areola between his thumb and index
finger of his right hand.  He then counted to three in his head before
applying pressure.

   "Oww!  Fuck you, you perverted pig!" Keri squealed as a white hot bolt
of pain shot from the tip of her breast and up the left side of her face,
bringing tears to her eyes.  She was about elaborate upon her feelings for
Matthew which probably would not have gone at all well for her, when the
Coach deprived Keri of the opportunity.

   The CAP Device, propelled by a deft "thrust and twist" motion from the
Coach, first dilated the anal sphincter and then pushed aside the walls of
her rectum before coming to rest with its rounded tip approximately two
centimeters distal to her colon.  It all happened with such speed and
efficiency that although it felt to Keri like someone had just punted a
football up her ass, the insertion effect with its associated
breathlessness and cramping was short lived.  Following the usual forceful
exhalation resulting from a sudden spasm of the diaphragm, Keri stood
somewhat glassy eyed for a minute while her mind's eye monitored the
internal assimilation process.  Inside of her bowel, the highly specialized
composite appliance moved inward a tiny bit more as Keri's first anal
sphincter closed around its tapered neck, thereby seating the device
securely into its new home.  Shifting her hips unconsciously, Keri adjusted
herself around the core presence in her abdomen.  Her knees felt slightly
rubbery, but that would soon pass, and other than having to come to grips
again emotionally with the concept of Continuous Anal Presence, Keri was
right as rain in less than two minutes.  Unlike the first time she received
her CAP, her female anatomy appeared to welcome the remarkable instrument,
coddling it as though it were a part of her.  Incredible as it may seem,
already Keri's thought processes began to wrap themselves around the new
sense of fullness and completeness within the core of her femininity,
returning to it again and again as a source of focus and stability.

   "Now then, Miss Jensen," the Coach said with a little groan as he
regained his feet.

   "The old bones don't work as well as they used to," he mused, but at
almost sixty years of age the stout little man was in excellent shape as
several Guests who discovered this fact the hard was will attest to.

   "I too wish to know precisely when you last took a lover," the Coach
stated in a nononsense tone of voice.  Standing beside the young woman, he
placed the palm of his left hand onto the soft, rounded area of her belly
midway between her navel and the top of her pubic crest.

   "Eyes to the front," Miss Jensen," Matthew ordered sternly when she
glanced quickly downward to the Coach's hand on her tummy and then to her
left where the older man stood.

   Keri obeyed, snapping her eyes back to those of the tall Handler almost
before she knew she was doing it.  She would never know how these demons in
white could order her around so effortlessly.  It was like mind control at
times, and it was infuriating as hell.  In fact, Keri was in the process of
coming up with a suitably disdainful retort when she felt a hand come to
rest on her left buttock.

   "Did you entertain this morning following your morning cleaning and
toiletry, Miss Jensen?" the Coach asked pointedly.  As he spoke he tapped
lightly with one fingertip on the embossed numeral "8" in the center of the
puck-like butt end of the CAP Device which protruded slightly from between
the girl's shapely buttocks.

   The highly conductive polymer matrix from which the devices were
fashioned conveyed the energy of the Coach's tapping with astonishing
efficiency, actually enhancing it along the way such that when it arrived
at the far end where the tiny rectal torpedo lay in close proximity to the
tip of Keri's spine, the amplified energy was transferred directly to the
base of her skeletal system and to the spinal cord itself.  The effects
were quite astonishing really, as the force of each tap of the Coach's
finger was instantly conducted to practically every part of the teenager's
body.  Beneath his palm on her soft belly, the tenured Handler could feel a
sympathetic "ticking" of the uterine and abdominal muscles beneath her warm
skin.

   To Keri, the sensations that the horrid instrument generated were far
more troubling.  It was the most invasive intrusion upon her person that
she could ever have imagined.  Subtle, thrumming waves resonated through
every nerve and fiber of her body, reflecting back and forth until their
origins were lost.  It was as though someone had crawled into her skin and
was trying to get out.  The sensation was so foreign and unsettling that
Keri actually experience mild vertigo and its associated nausea.

   "Entertain a lover!" Keri's mind shrieked in outrage.  More than
anything else about the House of Horrors, Keri despised the euphemisms the
Handlers used in an attempt to justify and legitimize their foul deeds. 
"Entertain a lover, my ass!" she snarled silently as she stared straight
ahead into Matthew's dark eyes.  "I was raped twice this morning, you
mean," the pretty teenager brooded.

   The thrumming energy waves continued to rebound inside of her, making it
very difficult for Keri to concentrate on anything else.  Even though she
knew she would be punished, Keri had every intention of speaking out and
calling a spade, a spade, so you can imagine her surprise when her eventual
response came in the form of a timid nod of her head and a simple, "Uh
huh."

   Both Matthew and the Coach knew precisely how many times and with whom
the Jensen girl had engaged in intercourse since her arrival at the Center.
Each and every occasion was duly logged in her personal file and became a
matter of public record within the confines of the institution.  At any
time, any staff member could access her file should they require personal
data for any reason.  Keri Marie Jensen, like every Guest of TYTC, was an
open book.  There was nothing about her; emotionally, physically, sexually
or otherwise that was in any way confidential, from the number of cosmetic
dental caps she had on her teeth to the size tampon she used.  In addition
to providing current information on the Guests, the complete and utter lack
of personal privacy is a powerful tool used in the process of eroding a
young lady's image of self.  The goal being the negation of a defined
self-image and the eventual transference of selfdetermination to her
significant or life partner.

   "I see, Miss Jensen," Matthew responded.  "So I think it's safe to say
that it's not from a lack of opportunity that your problem stems.  Wouldn't
you agree?"

   When Keri responded with a confused look, the Handler elaborated.

   "Our staff is providing you with adequate sexual attention, correct?"
the Handler stated in all seriousness.

   Keri was too stunned to answer.  She simply couldn't believe her ears.
Not for the last time she found herself marveling at the total lack of
humanity with which these men carried out their diabolical purpose on a
daily basis.  It was as though nothing that was believed to be true or held
sacred by the rest of the human race existed here.  There was no compassion
and no leniency; no love and no desire.  Right and wrong no longer existed.
Keri's reality existed only within the confines of the madhouse known as
The Youth Training Center in which the men in white defined truth.

   A couple of days ago, during a very rare period of time in which she'd
found herself alone, Keri had reflected upon her daily reality at The Youth
Training Center.  She was forced to share her bed with a different man each
night, thus her day always began with a non-consensual sexual act.  Whoever
she woke up with would become her first "lover" du jour.  Following her
early morning molestation which often began before she awoke, Keri would be
escorted to Cleaning and Hygiene where she would endure using the "toilet"
in front of an audience of perhaps a dozen observers.  It was utterly
dehumanizing.  There was no such thing as toilet tissue in the House of
Horrors.  When Keri finished she would be cleaned by hand by her attendant,
or by anyone in the audience who chose to assist.  Next came her "bath". 
Actually it was more of a cross between a car wash and a strip search,
during which Keri would be systematically cleaned from head to toe, inside
and out.  It was not at all uncommon for the "bathing" routine to be
interrupted by someone wishing to have sex with her.  Which meant, of
course, that the cleaning process would have to be repeated.

   One thing the pretty teenager discovered very quickly about her status
relative to the monsters in white; she was theirs for the taking, anytime,
anywhere, by anyone; no questions asked.  Being a person of strong will and
character, Keri naturally had a lot of difficulty in the beginning with
this policy and others.

   Prior to her abduction the attractive young woman had allowed herself to
be bedded on only a very few occasions, and each of those occasions bore a
substantial price of some sort.  In other words, Keri Jensen was not one to
"give it away".

   Needless to say, after joining the TYTC family Keri was obliged to
re-think her position on that personal standard as well as many others, and
it was bitter medicine to swallow.  However, after her third or forth gang
rape (Group Cooperative Opportunity), Keri conceded that one non-consensual
lover ["God they had her thinking that way already!"] was far better than
six or even ten.

   Following her "bath", Keri's scheduled day began with, and mostly
consisted of a succession of indiscriminate sexual atrocities performed
upon her at will by any number of individuals!  More often than not these
"exercises" or "encounters" as they were called, involved direct sexual
intercourse with yet another stranger or strangers, but not always.

   Sometimes there were machines and physical restraints and instruments of
unspeakable design and function.  It wasn't torture per say, for there was
rarely pain involved.  Unless, of course, Keri chose to resist.  One thing
was certain, though.  Keri Jensen was now intimately familiar with each and
every orifice and passage in her body; where they started, where they went
and how deeply each could be probed.

   These repugnant "examinations" were sometimes performed "in private",
but often as not Keri was defiled before of an audience.  The training
classes were the worst, and thankfully she'd only had to endure one such
session so far.

   The training classes were how the monsters in white replenished their
numbers, although Keri couldn't imagine how they ever found men desirous of
such a demented lifestyle.  Apparently such individuals existed, however,
because at Keri's first training session, the room had contained at least
thirty leering faces as she and two other terrified young women were led
onto the dais.  Her memories of the "encounter" were nothing but a blur of
faces and hands and penises; lots of penises.  Keri would never be certain,
but she figured that she'd been forcibly raped by at least a dozen
different men.  The worst part of the ordeal had been the fact that the two
other girls had been attacked and defiled at the same time right there on
the stage next to Keri, where she could see and hear their pitiful
reactions to multiple assailants.  What cut to the very core of the tiny
amount of dignity she had left was the realization that she had doubtlessly
behaved much the same as the other unfortunate young women on that dreadful
afternoon; grunting and groaning and bathed in sweat and semen.

   Meals were served three times a day in what passed for a cafeteria, but
like everything else in the House of Horrors, that facility enjoyed an evil
twist as well.  Keri hadn't been in residence long enough yet to be
introduced to the feeding protocols, but she fully expected to be subjected
to it any day now.  It was difficult to maintain an appetite while watching
another woman being forced to perform oral sex on a man, and although Keri
had never allowed a man to do that to her, but she had the sneaking
suspicion that all that was about to change.  For now, though, Keri did her
best to finish her meals in relative peace by averting her eyes to the
atrocities going on all around her.  There was another curious and probably
disgusting aspect to the TYTC Cafeteria, having to do with the food itself.
It appeared that everything they served was liberally covered with a musky
tasting white sauce that Keri couldn't seem to identify.  It was very
weird.

   Evenings for the Guests of The Youth Training Center consisted of what
one might expect.  The girls were generally pretty tired following a full
day of organized activity, so bedtime usually came early, unless there was
a staff party scheduled.

   Keri recalled her first full night within the walls of the House of
Horrors with sickening clarity.  She'd about reached the end of her rope,
by the time evening arrived.  It had been the kind of day a person only
reads about in tales by The StoryMaster.

   Beginning with her abduction, the situation had rapidly deteriorated
from there.  Keri Marie was exhausted, having attempted to fight off no
less than two heinous attacks upon her person.  Unfortunately her efforts
had ended in failure, so in addition to being extremely fatigued, she was
pretty sore as well.  Naturally she was frightened for her safety, but
after having endured much pawing and prodding by a faceless group of
perverts dressed in clean white coveralls, Keri was mostly angry.  She had
no idea what The Youth Training Center was all about or why she was there,
but if her first day was any indication of what was to come, her future was
less than rosy.

   She'd seen other young women who, like herself, were stripped naked, but
she hadn't gotten an opportunity to speak to any of them.  Mostly the
morning had been a frenzy of "medical exams", although none of the men who
administered them struck Keri as being doctors.  Oh, they were trained and
trained well, but in what, the unhappy teenager had no earthly idea.  She'd
been bathed (literally) and fed, and then some time during the afternoon
there were no clocks she'd been taken to meet the Headmaster.

   Usually a Guest's Double "I" or Induction Interview is performed the
very first thing after she regains consciousness in Recovery.  That
morning, however, a problem of one kind or another had come up, so Keri had
not been able to talk to the man responsible for her predicament until
later in the day.

   The interview had not gone well.  It turned out that Rick Adams, the
current TYTC Headmaster, was just exactly the type of personality that Keri
loved to hate.  Perhaps it was because both she and Adams were possessed of
unusually strong characters.  Both were opinionated and outspoken, and in a
normal debate venue the two of them might have been evenly matched.  Rick
Adams wasn't the one, however, who was bound hand and foot to a hateful
steel frame.  Rick Adams wasn't the one who had his expensive designer
clothing cut from his body piece by piece by a big ape of a man dressed
like the others in glowing white coveralls.  And Rick Adams wasn't the one
who was then forced to have sexual intercourse with a third white clad
monster while the other two sat back and watched.  It was then that Keri
had first vowed vengeance upon the entire demented pack of perverts who
called themselves Handlers.  But specifically Keri promised a particularly
sever form of retribution who be visited upon Rick Adams.  That is if Keri
had anything to say about it.

   After a day like that, anyone would be a little cranky, and Keri was no
exception.  So when she was later escorted to what would become her
"bedroom" by the man who'd watched her rape and not lifted a finger to help
her, Keri was in no mood for surprises.  Her escort's name was Anthony, and
Keri recalled the "Head Pervert" telling her that she was assigned to the
man, whatever that meant.

   "Here we are, Miss Jensen," Anthony had told her, stopping in front of
an opening on the right side of a big corridor.  Above this opening was the
numeral "47".  "These are your sleeping quarters.  I suggest you get some
rest.  You are going to need your strength," the big man said succinctly.

   "But there's no door," she'd commented lamely and received only a smile
from the man in white.  Later Keri would discover that there were no doors
on any of the Guest quarters, but she was simply too worn out to care just
then.

   Keri was naked as the day she was born, and from what she'd been told at
the horrible interview she'd experience earlier, it was highly likely that
she would remain that way until she could find a way out of this mad house.
Surprisingly the nudity didn't bother her too much, but the unsolicited
attentions of the men in white was totally unacceptable, and already an
escape plan was taking shape in Keri's head as she stepped through the open
doorway.  The lighting had been dimmed for sleeping and it took a minute
for her eyes to adjust.  She noticed the big bed right away.  "Queen-size,
at least," she thought.  There wasn't a need for a bureau since she wasn't
wearing any clothes.  Slowly Keri's eyes became accustomed to the dimness
and that's when she noticed the man in the bed in her bed!

   Like most of Keri's early parings, the situation quickly deteriorated
from an exchange of expletives mostly one way into outright bedlam.  The
man had tried to explain to the irate teenager that he was to be her "Night
Partner" for the evening and then patted the bed next to himself,
indicating that she should climb on in.  Keri would have none of it,
however, and had already turned for the doorway to make her exit when she
felt something prick her in the right buttock.  She glanced down in time to
see the man who'd been in the bed a second ago, remove the hypodermic from
her flesh.  Keri recalled wondering how the man, who was quite large had
made it across the room so quickly, as he lifted her inert body from the
floor and carried her to the big bed.

   Night Partnering for new Guests can often be difficult and traumatic. 
Many Handlers use physical restraints for a few days until the girls adjust
to their new routines, but others believed that this method was inherently
noisy unless one included a gag which made oral sex awkward.  Also there is
the risk of a young lady injuring herself in spite of the padded restraint
systems in use today.

   Keri's very first Night Partner She never learned his name preferred the
drug, Ketamine over physical restraint.  Used for years by providers of
live wild animals to zoos and theme parks, the drug is both stable and
predictable.  Dosages are reasonably forgiving, but care should be taken
when administering any drug.  The one characteristic that makes Ketamine
highly desirable for the Center's use is that the compound only affects the
motor nervous system.  It does not cause the patient to become unconscious,
but paralyzes only the voluntary motor nerves, rendering her both alert and
manageable.  As a bonus, the Ketamine approach is generally a lot quieter,
because when the Guest discovers that she can make only unintelligible
grunting sounds, but cannot form words, she will usually hold her tongue
and let the other residents of the dormitory get some much needed rest.

   Keri would never forget the crushing feeling of absolute helplessness as
the big man rolled her onto her back and then arranged her to his liking.
Try as she might she could do nothing to prevent him from lifting her knees
upward until her heels practically touched her butt.  Then smiling into
Keri's shocked and staring eyes he allowed her legs to fall open, spreading
her thighs almost painfully wide.  Next he offered her a pillow, propping
her head up, while explaining to her that he wanted her watch while he made
love to her.

   Keri didn't get a really good look at her assailant until he climbed
onto the bed and crawled between her legs, and even then her chance came
and went all too quickly.

   Noting the direction of the girl's shocked stare, the man grinned and
took his sizeable manhood in his right fist.  "You like what you see, don't
you baby," he purred as without the slightest hesitation he leaned forward
over the helpless young woman.  Supporting himself above her with his
brawny left arm, the man got right down to business.  No further words were
spoken, and there was no foreplay.  With his right hand her partner crushed
the bulbous head of his big cock into her pudendal cleft between her meaty
labia majora.  To Keri, it felt like he was pressing a hot billiard ball
against her most private flesh.  There was no hunting, for the professional
man knew his target very well.  A soft gurgling sound escaped from Keri's
throat as she accepted her third lover of the day Or was it her forth? 
Keri had quickly lost all track of time, but the big Handler had fucked her
for over an hour, driving his ten inch member into Keri, first with long,
measured strokes, and then on occasion delivering an unexpected series of
short, jabbing thrusts, designed to keep the teenager off balance and
thereby control the degree of her arousal.  The man was indeed an expert,
playing Keri like a prize violin, and keeping her on the brink of orgasm
for nearly an hour, but never allowing her to climax.  Rewards must be
earned.

   As the last glimmer of consciousness fled she felt him move inside of
her.  The two lovers lay like spoons, his body pressed against her back and
his left arm draped over her shoulder.  Keri's right breast was cradled in
one hand, and his big cock gradually grew flaccid inside of her.  All in
all, it was a rather peaceful scene, and in spite of the original
circumstances of their coupling, Keri's last thoughts of the day were of
the warm and fuzzy variety as her lover breathed softly behind her.

   "You really do have an attention disorder, don't you, young lady,"
Matthew commented dryly, dragging Keri back to reality.

   "No, I..." the somewhat flustered teenager tried to defend herself.  She
realized that her cheeks were hot.  The vivid memories of her early
experiences had affected her more than she knew.

   "I believe what you need, Miss Jensen, is a little "Matt Time" and some
one-on-one coaching," Matthew told her.  "No slight on Anthony's abilities
and judgement, but I think if we were to begin with some rudimentary
passage management exercises, it would give you something concrete to
concentrate on during intercourse and provide you with a specific set of
goals."

   Keri began shaking her head slowly from side to side, and parted her
lips to speak, but Matthew anticipated her protest and cut her off.  "Let's
drop down on all fours, Miss Jensen," the Handler spoke calmly.  "Please
assume Service Position One," he added and took her right hand.  "Coach, if
you wouldn't mind helping Miss Jensen with her posture and technique, I'll
give her something to work with."

   "Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach corrected her when a barely audible
groan escaped Keri's lips as Matthew eased into her from behind, adding
another name to her life list of intimate partners.  It wasn't a
particularly forceful thrust, and as always there was no foreplay or
preparation of any sort for Keri.  She was simply taken; put on like a
comfortable pair of shoes but with a thoroughness that never failed to
surprise Keri.  "Head up.  Look at me, please, young lady," the older man
coached, lifting her chin with two fingers.

   "Relax your muscles, please, Miss Jensen," Matthew spoke from behind her
as he pulled back slowly on her flaring hips.  "She's not such a bad fit,
actually," the Handler commented to his colleague as he made his way into
the stunned girl.  "There's no question she is going to require a lot of
training and exercise, but she appears to have been only lightly used for a
young lady of her age.

   The Coach smiled inwardly, watching the attractive teenager's nostrils
flare slightly as she monitored her lover's ingress with her mind's eye. 
Beneath her, Keri's rounded tummy bulged outward as the head of Matthew's
cock made a nest for itself deep in the area of her fornix.  Moving his
hips up and down and then slowly from side to side, the young Handler made
certain that the girl was fully involved before beginning the exercise. 
Then squaring his shoulders, Matthew nodded to the Coach who knelt beside
her left shoulder.  "Arch, please, Miss Jensen," Matthew instructed while
pressing down on the small of her back with his knuckles.

   "Come on, young lady.  Get that little ass up in the air!" the Coach
added his two cents worth.  "You know the drill.  Now concentrate.  You
have a man's cock inside of you now, and you need to consider that
responsibility!"

   Two weeks ago Keri would have been shocked and incensed had anyone even
suggested that she would find herself in the situation she was in now.  She
simply would never have allowed anything even remotely like this to happen.
Things had certainly changed.

   "Alright, Miss Jensen.  Let's begin with the basics, shall we," Matthew
said, getting a firmer grip on her love handles.  Then he paused briefly.
"Are you paying attention, Miss Jensen?" the Handler asked and tapped
gently on the round, black puck lodged between her buttocks.  Immediately
Matthew felt the girl shift around him as her vaginal muscles responded
sympathetically to anal stimulation.  The Handler figured that she was
still "coupled", meaning her vaginal and rectal muscles moved in concert
rather than independently, but for now that wasn't a concern.  "Answer me,
Miss Jensen," Matthew demanded, tapping on her CAP once more, and again he
received a moderately firm vaginal embrace.

   The Coach, who was monitoring the girl's facial expressions noted a
prolonged blink followed by a slight quivering of her lower lip in response
to the gentle manipulation of her high tech anal appliance.  Then she
nodded her head.

   "Uh huh," Keri responded reluctantly.

   "Uh huh, what, Miss Jensen?" the Coach prompted.  "Tell your partner
that you are paying attention and ready to begin the exercise, young lady,"


   If there was still some tiny ember of her former self-confidence still
glowing somewhere deep in her psyche, it must have flared at that moment,
for being made to participate in her own ravaging was more than Keri could
tolerate.  She gritted her teeth and remained obstinately silent.  It was a
small battle, but one she felt she should fight.

   Both of the professional men knew the exact nature of the battle she
waged.  In part the strife was between Keri and the two Handlers who
represented everything that was dark and diseased in her new world. 
However a second skirmish had also broken out on an entirely different
front.  A part of Keri Jensen still clung defiantly to an old, tired set of
moral values, consisting largely of misinterpreted folklore and outdated
platitudes.  In fact, it was the same set of "truths" that her mother had
used to form Keri's original image of herself, and because until now she'd
known no other way, out of sheer habit the teenager still used these
outmoded guidelines to differentiate between just and unjust, good and evil
and moral and unchaste.

   "It's wrong!  It's dirty!  It's immoral!  It just isn't something nice
girls do!" her mother's voice rang in Keri's subconscious.  "She should
fight these wicked men.  They should not be allowed to treat her in such a
demeaning manner.  She'd show them!"

   It was on this second subconscious front that the real war was being
waged on a daily basis.  On one side of the battle field Keri had arrayed
her moral warriors, armed with her many years of societal programming. 
From across her field of dreams, advanced an army dressed in white, artful
and patient, slowly and inexorably, pinpointing every chink in Keri's
armor. Once identified, these tiny breaks in her subconscious defense
mechanisms were systematically widened until Keri Jensen's inner female,
her secret "little girl", lay naked and exposed, stripped of everything
she'd ever believed or held sacred.  Then and only then would her spiritual
thighs be spread.  Then and only then would she learn to accept lovers of a
different kind, lovers who knew far better than she her true wants and
needs.  Then and only then would Keri be impregnated with a new truth and a
new reality.

   It was nothing short of miraculous the change that came over the Jensen
girl resulting the from manipulation of her CAP Device.  The Coach, in
fact, was only barely able to suppress a grin when suddenly Keri raised her
head high like a champion show dog.  Gone were the expressions of
obstinance and contempt on her handsome face, and in their place a look of
curious introspection grew stronger with each passing second.

   "Eyes forward, young lady!" the Coach barked when the girl tried to look
back, drawn toward the source of the unusual and undeniable sensations
radiating from her core, and impeding structured thought.  Slowly her eyes
glazed and turned inward, and seconds later, her teeth began to chatter.

   At the other end of the comely Miss Jensen, Matthew twisted the exposed
end of her anal appliance slowly, first one way and then the other.  To the
casual observer he looked much like a safe cracker trying to gain access to
a locked vault.

   Matthew, like most men in the employ of the Center had created a
science, around the CAP Device, its application and remarkable
effectiveness.  Matthew knew as much or more than most about the finer
points of its use, but there were a few mysteries remaining about the
incredible instrument that no one fully understood.  One such enigma was
the "twisting effect".

   Rotating a CAP imbedded in a young lady's rectum seems to open a direct
path to the more sophisticated areas of her brain responsible for higher
functions such as reasoning and problem solving.  The true nature of the
impetus can only be guessed at, but the effect is very well documented. 
The best analogy that anyone has come up with to date is this.  "It's like
pouring honey on the mother board of a computer." Complex thought becomes
totally bogged down, and by attenuating all that unnecessary mental
"chatter" in a girl's head, it becomes much easier to get one's message
across.  In short, the "twisting effect" causes a young lady to become
highly impressionable and susceptible to suggestion.

   A tremor passed through the Jensen girl's body.  Matthew felt it from
the head of his deeply imbedded cock to its root.  He and the Coach
exchanged a knowing glance as Matthew twisted the instrument
counter-clockwise, like the tuning control knob of a radio transmitter.

   Taking the stubborn teenager by the chin, the Coach turned her pretty
face toward his and gazed into her glassy eyes.  "Tell your partner that
you are ready to begin, please, Miss Jensen," he said flatly.

   A flicker of concern caused her to furrow her forehead momentarily, but
it quickly evaporated.  She hesitated for a few seconds longer while she
processed the request, and then nodded.  "I..I'm r..ready," Keri Jensen
said in a voice barely above a whisper.  It wasn't exactly a heart felt
response, but it represented capitulation, nonetheless, and it would do for
now.

   Matthew squared his shoulders and pushed forward firmly and evenly with
his hips.  At the same time the Handler gripped the young woman just below
her hip bones, and pulling back on the fronts of her thighs, he drew Keri
fully onto himself.

   Like most of the men who wore the white coveralls of a TYTC Handler,
Matthew was a reasonably well endowed young man.  Immediately after
responding to the Coach's page Matt had taken a moment to familiarize
himself with the Jensen girl's file.  It was the only responsible thing to
do.  Noting her personal measurements, Matt concluded that due to his girth
he would only slightly exceed her vaginal passage volume.  However, based
upon her low scores for Muscle Memory and Internal Grip Strength, the
Handler decided that worst case scenario, he would stretch the girl a
little.  Not a big deal, for an increase in passage volume can be
compensated for later on by working on her M&M's.

   "Can you feel the head of my cock inside of you, Miss Jensen?" Matthew
asked her without compunction.  As he spoke, he flexed his muscles,
shifting himself within the confines of the girl's vagina.

   "Unggh...  Uh...  hhhuh!" she responded, although it was more of a
grunt.

   "Squeeze me, please, Miss Jensen," the Handler requested, holding back
on her hips so as to remain seated within her.

   "Again, please," Matthew instructed when he felt her first reluctant
embrace.  "Harder, Miss Jensen," the young man demanded.

   "Ohhh...  ungghh!" Keri groaned as she bore down harder.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach cautioned.

   "Good...good.  That's much better," Matthew complimented his younger
partner.  "You may relax for a minute, Miss Jensen." While he waited for
the girl to regroup, the Handler placed a hand on each of Keri's buttocks
and pulled the firm fleshy orbs apart, spreading the girl open wide and
exposing the brown puckered donut of her rectal opening where it hugged the
neck of her CAP.  Just below the small black disk, the root of his thick
cock protruded from between her labia majora.  Tipping his head to the side
for a better view Matthew noted her diminutive inner lips were stretched
tightly around the girth of his shaft.  Everything down there looked
uniformly moist indicating that she was self-lubricating adequately, and
before allowing her buttocks to close, the Handler took the liberty of
tracing playfully around both of her openings with the tip of one finger.

   Keri knew very well that she'd been opened and felt the cool room air
against her damp inner flesh.  It was tremendously demeaning to be
inspected and toyed with in such a cavalier manner, but, of course, there
wasn't a thing she could do about it.

   "Alright," her partner said.  "Let's begin again.  I am going to pull
out of you, Miss Jensen, and as I do, I want you to squeeze me as hard as
you can.  Pretend that you are trying to keep me inside and prevent me from
leaving.  Do you understand?"

   "Uh huh," Keri answered breathlessly.

   "Very well.  Then when you feel me cycle my hips and begin to push back
into you, I want you to relax your muscles and allow me to enter you
completely.  Is that clear?"

   Keri nodded, but didn't speak.  She was feeling rather miffed again. 
How had she ever ended up in this crazy place?

   "Alright, Miss Jensen.  Here we go," Matthew informed her then after a
couple of seconds he began to pull back slowly with his hips while holding
the girl's rear end in place with his hands.  "You're not squeezing, Miss
Jensen," the young Handler admonished her as inch after inch of his manhood
retreated from her birth canal.  Inside the resilient convoluted walls of
her vagina closed down behind.

   "I ammmm," Keri whined angrily.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach corrected her.

   "OK, relax your muscles now, please," Matthew instructed her as he began
his return trip.  The Handler drew Keri smoothly back onto himself with
little to no effort and then immediately ordered her to bear down on him
again.  This time she did as she was told, and was complimented for having
done so.  "Very good, Miss Jensen.  Let's keep going now," the young man
suggested as he arrived in her depths once again and began his egress right
away.

   Keri almost missed her cue, but managed to squeeze with her muscles at
the last minute.  She began to understand that this sort of thing took
practice.

   Matthew fucked the pretty teenager with slow, deliberate strokes for the
next twenty minutes or so, giving her ample opportunity to work on her
timing.  Then abruptly, he stopped.  Keri forgot herself and glanced back
over her shoulder at her partner, wondering what was going on.

   "You're doing quite well, Miss Jensen," Matthew complimented her in a
casual tone, noting that the girl's cheeks, neck and shoulders were
beginning to glow.  "Now I want you to take over for awhile," he told her.

   "What?" Keri gasped, giving the Handler an astonished look.

   "It's quite simple, Miss Jensen," the young man stated.  "I am going to
hold my hips stationary, and I want you to move yourself on me," he
explained to the astonished young woman.  "I want you to fuck yourself on
my cock, Miss Jensen."

   The Handler's request was such an unthinkable affront to her dignity
that Keri was left stunned and speechless.  Her facial expression, however
spoke volumes to her professional partners.  Her astonishment and
incredulity were unmistakable which was to be expected considering the once
head strong teenager was being instructed to take an active roll in the
exercise.  It was a big step for Keri, and could even be viewed as a
turning point in her program should she decide to cooperate.

   The pace of the engagement would naturally be closely monitored and
directed by her two partners along with the overall duration of the
exercise.  For there was always the risk that because of her Thelazine
enhanced reproductive system, she might suddenly spin out of control and
experience spontaneous arousal.  One of the hard and fast rules for sexual
engagement that is practiced by everyone in the employ of the Center states
that at no time should a Guest's level of arousal be left to her
discretion. It must always be her partner or partners who control her
fervor, and as expected there are number of tools available to the TYTC
Handler for this purpose, including variable stroke cycles and frequency
and others, but it is of prime importance that the Guest's level of arousal
always be governed by her Handler.

   "You may proceed, Miss Jensen," Matthew instructed the girl as though
his request was nothing at all out of the ordinary.  His right hand rested
lightly on her back just over the tip of her spine within easy reach of her
CAP Device.

   "You may begin, Miss Jensen," the Coach echoed the Matthew's words from
his position near Keri's right shoulder, reinforcing the Handler's
instructions.  "Remember, grip on egress, relax on ingress," the Coach
reminded her.  Keri glared at him, but wisely said nothing.  If there had
ever been a more demeaning episode in her life, she could not remember it.
"Lean forward, Miss Jensen," the Coach intoned.  "Slide yourself off your
lover's cock.  Do it now, please."

   Keri felt the icy fingers of defeat begin to claw at the very roots of
her psyche.  If there had been any way humanly possible to defy the two
despicable monsters in white she most certainly would have done it, and
that at least was some consolation to Keri as she dropped her head and
rocked slowly forward on her hands and knees.  Inside of her birth canal
her assailant's considerable bulk gradually withdrew.

   "Squeeze me, please, Miss Jensen," Matthew ordered.  "You're not paying
attention."

   "Up yours, you bastard!" the angry young blond hissed as quietly as she
could through clenched teeth.

   "To the contrary, Miss Jensen," Matthew murmured, detecting her verbal
transgression.  Then with one hand on her back and the fingers of his other
hand hooked around her thigh beneath her left hip bone, the big Handler
drew the irate teenager slowly back onto himself again.  "Up yours," he
responded with a wicked chuckle.

   Keri shuddered visibly and her breath heaved from her lungs, in response
to the man's latest all-consuming foray into the core of her femininity. 
Any thoughts she might have had to impede his progress came much too late,
and Keri's lower lip trembled as she sensed her anatomy being rearranged
internally in order to accept his mass.

   "Head up, Miss Jensen," the Coach barked.  "Arch your back, shoulders
forward, please, and get that little ass of yours up in the air!" the older
man uttered a string of reprehensible commands.

   "Pay attention, Miss Jensen," her partner commanded from behind when
Keri chose to glare at the Coach contemptibly.

   "Whack!" Keri heard the sound of the blow it seemed before she felt its
effects.

   "Forward now, and squeeze," Matthew instructed unemotionally, glancing
downward and smiling at the glowing red hand print on the stubborn young
woman's milky white buttock.

   "Nnnnuuungghh!" Keri groaned and shuddered as she leaned forward and her
vaginal passage was once again evacuated.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach ordered just inches from her right
ear. "Guests shall remain silent while being attended to," he quoted one of
the diabolical rules of the House of Horrors.

   "Concentrate, Miss Jensen!" Keri's partner commanded brusquely.

   "Whack!" the mirrored alcove resounded with the sharp report of palm
upon buttock.

   "Mmeee," Keri snorted, with her lips pressed tightly together and tears
springing to her eyes.  Her right buttock was on fire.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen!" Matthew ordered as he pulled the bewildered
blond onto himself once more.  "Open yourself, young lady.  Take me inside,
Miss Jensen.  Take me deeply inside," the Handler instructed Keri as the
head of his sizeable manhood thrust aside her convoluted vaginal walls
until he occupied her entirely once again.

   "Head up, Miss Jensen!" the Coach reminded her.

   "Squeeze harder, Miss Jensen," her lover instructed.

   "Shoulders forward!  Arch your back, please, Miss Jensen," the Coach
chimed in.

   "Whack!"

   For nearly an hour the Coach and Matthew worked with Keri, and despite
the profound loathing she felt for the two professional men and the
organization with which they were affiliated, after perhaps twenty minutes
the headstrong teenager began to participate in earnest, rocking backward
and forward, steadily fucking herself on her Handler's proffered penis,
seemingly with little need for additional encouragement.

   Unbeknownst to the handsome blond, however, in the background the
miracle compound, Thelazine, wove its subtle web around her psyche,
enhancing each and every fibre and nerve ending of her female reproductive
anatomy, and clearing the neural pathways such that those sizzling signals
generated within Keri's core female would arrive at the pleasure centers of
her brain, unimpeded.  Conversely, ideas of opposition or retribution were
effectively shunted onto "mental side streets" where along with more
complex emotions such as anger and indignity, they quickly lost potency and
priority.

   Matthew and the Coach played the young woman between the two of them,
expertly managing the degree of her arousal, and keeping Keri on the very
brink of climax for nearly fifteen minutes without granting her release.

   "Not yet, Miss Jensen," Matthew had chuckled when on two occasions she
actually thrust herself quite forcefully against his thighs and then ground
herself on his cock, seeking fulfillment.  "That you will have to earn,
young lady," he'd chastised.

   A gentle rap on the exposed butt end of her CAP Device was all that was
needed to redirect Keri's thoughts and effectively derail her impending
orgasm.  Two times the handsome teenager rose so very close to apogee, and
twice she was frustrated.  The second time, during that brief moment of
relative lucidity, following her return to Earth, Matthew inseminated Keri.
Both men noted the unmistakable introversion of expression on the girl's
face, as well as the soft groan of dismay that escaped her lips as Keri
felt the heat of the man's seed bloom within her abdomen like fluid fire.

   Before her abduction and imprisonment, Keri had never allowed any male
to do that to her.  It was simply too disgusting, not to mention the more
obvious risk it bore.  But now she'd lost count of the number of men and
the number of times she'd been sullied by their vile offerings.  Keri
naturally feared that sooner or later she would become impregnated by one
or more of the monsters in white, and the thought of that inevitability
filled her with both fearfulness and revulsion, affecting her on a level
that only another female could understand.

   What Keri didn't know was that all of the Guests were given a
specialized systemic contraceptive upon their arrival at the Center,
followed by regular boosters throughout their time in residence.  For many
years, the program has had a one hundred percent success rate, and so far
not a single young lady has become pregnant unintentionally.  Considering
the high degree of sexual activity the Guests enjoy, that in itself is
remarkable, but what's even more outstanding are the beneficial
psychological effects derived from the program.  By allowing the Guests to
believe that they would more than likely become pregnant at the hands of
their Handlers or other partners, and that there was very little they could
do about it, a significant blow to the girls' sense of selfdetermination
was achieved.

   Occasionally one or two young ladies would be given the nullifying agent
or antidote to the specialized contraceptive, rendering them fertile almost
immediately.  The subjects would then be intentionally seeded and allowed
to carry until they showed, effectively reinforcing the other Guests'
overall belief that non-consensual impregnation was quite likely for each
of them in the not too distant future.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach admonished the girl, observing her
while she accepted her lover's offering.  Her mouth was partially open,
revealing a hint of sparkling white teeth, and her lower lip quivered
slightly.  "Look at me, Miss Jensen," the Coach cautioned when she
attempted to lower her gaze.  A noticeable shiver passed through the
unhappy teenager as she reluctantly raised her eyes to his.

   While the despicable older man looked on unsympathetically, Keri
experienced what can best be described as soul sickness.  She felt utterly
despoiled.  On her hands and knees there in the horrible gymnasium Keri
sensed the horrible man's filthy cock twitch within her like a living
thing, injecting the last of its loathsome product deep, deep inside.  No
amount of washing would ever make her feel clean, even if she were allowed
to bathe, which wasn't likely for several hours.  No, the vile offering
she'd just received would remain inside of her for quite some time.  They
would see to that.  In fact, while Keri struggled to maintain eye contact
with the older villain, which in itself was utterly dehumanizing for he
seemed to sense her every thought, she felt her assailant tighten his grip
on the fronts of her thighs, before drawing Keri farther onto his foul
cock, crushing her firm buttocks tightly against his hairy thighs in the
process.

   Keri's reproductive anatomy went right to work.  Had she known just
exactly what was happening inside of her, she probably would have been even
more upset, for at that very moment Keri's vagina was in the process of
contracting again and again, instinctively and effectively "milking" the
last of the viscus fluid from her lover's penis as he gradually softened
within her.

   Matthew, like all of the Handlers at TYTC was rather well endowed, and
even in its semi-flaccid state, his heavy cock occupied Keri almost
entirely.  Its head, still engorged with blood, lay in the area of the
fornix and continued to give up small amounts of ejaculate to the girl's
hungry vagina, the fluffy, convoluted walls of which were by now uniformly
coated with a soupy mixture of semen and vaginal mucous.

   Keri managed to contain the majority of Matthew's offering, however a
certain amount .found its way through the seal formed by her labia minora
surrounding the root of the man's cock and drooled down the insides of both
of Keri's thighs.  Most of this leakage had occurred almost immediately
following Matthew's initial bursts, for although Keri had been with a few
men prior to coming to the Center, she'd never before experienced anything
even remotely akin to the volcanism which had taken place in her belly a
few minutes earlier.  She'd felt him swell within her, and knew that he was
about to cum, but when that first pulse had lashed out at the very rear of
her femininity, it had taken Keri by surprise nonetheless.

   The raw power of the burst was so great that it had seemed more solid
than liquid.  Feeling a lot like someone had "flicked" or "thumped" her
quite forcefully directly on the cervix with his finger, Keri hadn't
recognized it for what it was at first.  In fact, the Coach realized what
had happened to the young blond even before she had, for her facial
expressions of surprise and shock were unmistakable.  The Coach smiled
knowingly at the puzzled teenager for several seconds until at last
understanding dawned.

   With his second pulse came the pressure, for as the startled teen was
about to discover, Matthew was known, among other things, for his ability
to produce prodigious quantities of semen within his tennis ball sized
testicles.  Again Keri's eyes grew wide and again she felt like someone had
just poked her deep inside with a hot finger.

   "Uugghh!" she grunted unexpectedly as her lover's second salvo was
literally pumped into her, pressurizing Keri's abdomen briefly and causing
her tummy to bulge outward beneath her, until with a very audible
"spooching" sound, a portion of Matthew's latest contribution was exhausted
from Keri when her capacity was suddenly exceeded.  She hated it when she
made noises down there.  It was very humiliating.

   "Silence, Miss Jensen," she was warned.

   Matthew's third and fourth bursts followed one another in rapid
succession, causing a few more of those unpleasant sounds to erupt from
between her thighs, and filling Keri to the brim.  Simultaneously a creamy,
blaze spread outward from her abdomen as though a star had gone super-nova
inside of her, until Keri imagined she could feel the man's heat behind her
eyes.  Never had she experienced a more pervasive sensation in her life. 
It was quite disconcerting.

   Matthew had ceased his thrust cycles the instant he began to cum,
preferring instead to hold the attractive teenager back against the fronts
of his thighs and fully onto himself.  At one point during her filling Keri
had attempted to pull away from her partner in an effort to relieve the
growing pressure in her belly, but Matthew held her fast, keeping himself
lodged inside of the girl as deeply as possible until he was finished. 
Even now as his climax slowly waned, Matthew made it his business to occupy
every cubic inch of volume that Keri had to offer, making certain that she
was fully involved while her vaginal muscles instinctively went about their
duties.

   Keri shuddered visibly when after another ten minutes her partner
decided to make his exit, and to her never ending humiliation his egress
was accompanied by an obscenely loud "splop".  Keri shifted her hips,
adjusting to the sudden loss of mass, and as she did, she could feel the
big man's ejaculate oozing between her labia majora.  She felt thoroughly
filthy and defiled.

   "I agree, Coach, that Miss Jensen needs work," Matthew said in a
conversational tone of voice as he went about zipping himself back into his
coveralls.  "But I believe she has promise," the Handler went on, placing
his right hand casually onto Keri's rump.

   Glancing downward, Matthew noted that the young lady's labia majora had
all but closed together again, following his exit.  She was definitely a
mess back there.  The visible golden curls of her pubic coat were dark and
matted, and the insides of her thighs all the way down to her knees were
uniformly coated with a mixture of "his & hers" bodily fluids.  Then while
he watched, a bubble formed and began to grow in the milky residue in the
vicinity of her vaginal portal.  Matthew had been with a lot of young
ladies in his time, but this was the first time he'd ever witnessed a
vaginal bubble.

   "Amazing," the Handler thought to himself.  Then to the Coach he said,
"I think a good part of her problem is plain old fashion laziness.  I have
no doubt that some structured exercise and activities here in the Gym will
do wonders for her, but I think I'm also going to track Anthony down and
suggest that Miss Jensen be scheduled for some additional "quality personal
time".  I believe with a little work, our little lady could become quite
popular." Matthew patted Keri on the bottom almost affectionately.  "I'd be
more than happy to take Miss Jensen for a spin at any time," the younger
man offered graciously.

   Keri was still quite dazed from her recent amorous activity.  So much so
that even the fact that the two depraved men were discussing her as if she
were some lower form of life, failed to get a rise out of Keri.  A brooding
calm had suddenly come over the once haughty teenager as she knelt there on
all fours, naked and unclean.  If the truth be known, a part of Keri had
capitulated, giving in to what she perceived as the hideous program of rape
and abuse that her daily life had become.  On the outside, the handsome
blond teenager appeared leaden lethargic, but on the inside, Keri's body
was actually quite busy.

   Following intercourse, the contraction of the vagina causes the cervix
to rest inside the fornix, which in its relaxed state is bowl-shaped and
perfect for the pooling of semen.  Keri had just such a pool inside of her
following nearly a full hour of love making, culminating in Matthew's
sizeable contribution.  Presently the tightly constricted opening in Keri's
cervix, the toroidal shaped doorway to her womb, lay completely immersed in
a puddle of white, viscous semen teeming with healthy human spermatozoa. 
Head down and dejected, while the monster named Matthew who had just
finished with her, went on about her potential sexual popularity with the
rest of the band of perverts in the House of Horrors, Keri Marie Jensen
became a mother.

   "Thank you for your assistance, Matthew," the Coach said warmly.  "As
always, I appreciate your insight and suggestions," he added.

   "You're quite welcome, Coach," the younger man responded politely as he
got to his feet, pushing himself up using Keri's hips for leverage.  "I'll
leave you to your work for now, but I'll definitely be back following the
mid-day feeding.  Your mention of an alternating multi-passage program
using the "Silent Partners" is very intriguing.  I'd like to begin Miss
Kournikova on a less labor intensive program for a week or two, and that
sounds like just the ticket," Matthew commented.  "As you can imagine, she
receives more than enough human contact.  There's rarely a blank spot on my
little tennis star's Partnering Planner," he said with a wink.  Both men
smiled.  "Well..  I gotta run," Matthew said after a moment's pause.  "Give
me a call if you need any further assistance with Miss Jensen." Then
without further ado, the younger Handler turned and walked away, whistling
a little tune, "I'm forever blowing bubbles"

   After Matthew made his exit the Coach leaned down and placed a hand on
the listless teenager's shoulder.  "On your feet, Miss Jensen," he ordered.
"And stand on pair number two, please," the Coach instructed, pointing in
the direction of the footprints painted on the floor matting.

   Keri tried not to think about what would happen next.  Her hazel eyes
which not long ago had simmered with malevolence toward the Coach and all
he represented, were now dull and rather lackluster.  As Keri obediently
covered the painted footprints marked "2" with her own feet, spreading her
legs to a little past shoulder width, the Coach stepped in front of her.

   "Look at me, Miss Jensen," the powerful little man spoke in a commanding
voice.

   Reluctantly Keri raised her eyes to his.  Then as she was forced to
stare into the eyes of the brutal little man, a deeply buried spark of
resolve caused her to make an effort to recover her composure.  She flared
her nostrils and took a deep breath which actually made her feel a little
better about life in general.  But even as Keri raised her chin slightly in
order to appear more confident in the eyes of her adversary, a large,
drooling dollop of what was obviously a portion of the foul spawn left
inside of her by her most recent non-consensual partner, drained from
Keri's vagina and dropped to the rubber floor mat with an audible "splat".

   Both she and the Coach glanced downward together, and both she and the
Coach observed the long and viscous mucous thread which stretched from
Keri's labia minora down to the loathsome pool of goo on the mat between
her feet.  What tiny amount of confidence Keri thought she'd mustered was
instantly shattered by the sight of that sticky mess.  The once proud
teenager was absolutely mortified, and felt the blood rush to her face in
response to her embarrassment as she struggled to choose between the lesser
of two evils.  She didn't think she could make herself look at the filth
between her feet again, so ever so slowly, Keri Jensen raised her eyes
upward.  As expected the Coach was waiting for her, meeting her gaze with a
shrewd smile.

   Keri's face flushed red and hot at first, but soon a cold feeling of
helplessness settled over her.  For both she and the Coach knew that the
slimy mess on the floor represented yet another battle lost; yet another
glaring example that Keri was no longer in control of her own life and her
own sexuality.  For the very first time since joining the TYTC family, Keri
Jensen wondered if perhaps she really did exist for the sole purpose of
providing sexual recreation to any male who desired it.
   End..  S