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Subject: Twighlight Zone 4 by Seurat: Art Critic 2a/8
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See bad mojo warnings section 1a.
Monday, May 13th
My wife started aerobics class tonight; three times a week. We see
each other on
weekends, in bed, and at dinner. Weeknight television together is a thing
of the past. Our sex life
seems to be suffering even more. The events of last week are starting to
fade, though I have been
sure to shave my body as I was told.
Wednesday, May 15th
+++++Welcome to The Baum-Dietrich Technologies Interconnect Program+++++
+++++Please enter your passcode+++++<initiate password bypass
function>*************************************
+++++Passcode accepted+++++
+++++Department?+++++
research
+++++Baum-Dietrich Technologies Research and Developement Project Database+++++
+++++Press Release Information+++++
search keywords neurotransmitter/neuro/Worthington
+++++Information to follow+++++
+++++Silkskin - a crystal based neuro-enhancing cloth, akin to the popular
'cire'' fabric only
having a great deal of flexibility. Developed by Baum-Dietrich
Technologies by and for the
virtual reality department, silkskin magnifies the effect of any outside
physical stimulation directly
to the skin below. Experiments have shown that those wearing silkskin are
easily distracted, as
the material keeps their entire body extremely sensitive.
+++++VRcloth - a version of silkskin connected directly to a persons
neuro-pathways
+++++VRprosthetics - nerve connected prosthetics, consisting of an outer
layer which is
nearly identical to skin in texture and color; a liquid core which, under
proper frequencies, could:
harden, enlarge, shrink, soften, move in a particular direction or set of
directions, and transmit
sensations from the outer layer to the inner layer; and an inner layer,
which transmits sensations
to nuero-receptors implanted in the skin and connected to the hosts own nerves.
+++++Personell data: Worthington, Tara J: President and CEO Baum-Dietrich
Technologies.
<<set Worthington.gif>> Education : BS in chemistry, W3oq4it7pq38ohf48o....
**********Security Program detected. File transfer interupted. Abort
initiated**********
+++++End file transfer+++++
+++++Connection closed+++++
The small amount of information that I was able to gleam from the
company's public
relations department re-stated what I had already been told. It didn't
mention, however, that the
president was claiming to be a researcher that was subjecting unwilling
persons to her own
personal experiments.
I sat in front of my computer, staring at the screen. I switched it
off got out of the chair,
running over the events of the last week in my head. For the past week I
had tried to live
my life normally, but I was far from being in a normal situation. Last
Wednesday, when I had
gotten home from my evening of "raquetball", I had a difficult time
concealing what had happened
to me. I don't know if my wife suspected something or not, but the
paranoia running rampant in
my head made it seem that she was constantly touching, stroking, prodding,
tickling, or just being
all too affectionate for my current situation. She soon realized that I
wasn't in the mood, and,
after telling me about her day at work, what happened at church, that we
didn't win the
lottery (again), before I knew it we were shutting off the alarm and
getting up to the morning
sun.
My week went quickly, and before I knew it, it was Wednesday again.
I had almost
forgotten the whole thing, dismissing it as a dream induced by reading too
many fantasies, except
for the fact that I found my self keeping my body shaved. It was
Wednesday morning that I
found the shoebox-sized package on the front porch, next to the paper. I
quickly picked it up,
and once back inside the house, stuffed it under the family room couch. I
thought it wasn't
supposed to arrive until the afternoon.
As I walked back to the kitchen, I was filled with a sense of
apprehension as to what I was
going to do. Well, almost all of me. My cock was rock solid in erotic
anticipation at what could
be in the box. I did my best to conceal the confusion in brain and the
erection in my pants while I
ate my breakfast and kissed my wife goodbye.
Once I was sure that her car had left the driveway, I fished out the
box and ran upstairs. I
shut the bedroom door like a teenager with his first porn magazine and
ripped open the package.
Inside was a remote control about the size of my CD player's with a tag
attached, an unmarked
toothpaste tube, and a black outfit. I pulled the outfit completely out
of the box and laid it out on
the bed.
It was, in fact, a jumpsuit, and while it looked a little small for
me, I knew it would fit the
way Tara wanted it to. It was made of an almost black translucent
material, a cross between latex
and spandex in texture and strechability, and was designed to cover me
from my ankles to an open
faced hood. Examining it a bit more closely, I discovered it was not
uniform in thickness, being
heavier in the chest, ass, and hood. There where half-inch holes where my
ears would be and a
small glove-pouch in the crotch area, in addition to a large slit up the
back. It also had no way of
fastening it; I assumed that I would climb in through the opening in the
back, and that once it was
over my head and arms it would keep itself in place. I carefully rolled
it up and put it and it's
companions back in the box. At the foot of our bed was a heavy locking
cedar chest; a friend of
mine had made it for us and had put in a hidden drawer with it's own lock.
I put the box in the
drawer and locked it. The small key went on my keychain, and off to work
I went. I could hardly
supress my excitement.
When I got home that afternoon, my wife was already there, cooking
dinner. The meal
went quickly, as it often does on Wednesdays, and we chatted about the
day's events. She could
tell my mind wasn't on the conversation though, and got ready to leave. I
kissed her good-bye,
and again watched as her car pulled out of the driveway. Kinky fantasies
began to flit through my
head, and I was hard by the time I got upstairs. I stripped quickly, and
unlocked the
drawer to remove my costume. It seemed cooler; almost oily to the touch.
I got out the
controller and the tube. The tag on the controller read:
"Head to ankles in the jelly,
put on the suit, enter 1637794 <enter>
Be at 730 Sycamore at 7:15, lower door.
Don't be late."
I opened up the tube and punctured the sterile seal, and squeezed a
generous portion of
the pinkish jelly into my hands, and proceeded to smooth it over my body.
It was cool but
warmed up quickly, and had no smell. Wiping my hands on my discarded
jeans, I started to put
on the jumpsuit. Left leg, straighten, right leg, straighten, then
manuever the arms and head into
position. The material was flexible enough that squeezing in wasn't too
difficult, but my hard-on
was definitely a hindrance. I grabbed the glove-pouch and pulled it out
so that I could manuever
my cock in, and it fit snug, exposing only the glans. It was definitely
more comfortable that way.
I slid my hands down the arms into the gloves, making sure the fingers
weren't twisted, then
pulled the hood up and over my head. It was a little tight, but finally
made it. Next came the
bathroom.
I wiped off the extra jelly with a towel, and stood in front of the
mirror, admiring the skin
tight costume. The face cutout exposed me from lips to eyebrows, my
hard-on stood out proud
before me, and my feet were bare. Nearly my entire body was covered in
black. Even the hole
that I had gotten in through wasn't noticeable; the slit closing over
itself once the hood was on. I
got the controller and returned to the bathroom, wanting to see what
happened when I entered
the code. After pressing the buttons as instructed, I heard the
controller hum for about thirty
seconds, and then let out a beep.
If I thought the suit was skintight before I was wrong. Almost the
entire thing shrank,
except for additions to my pectoral and anal area. My somewhat athletic
body was even
more male; it looked like I spent hours lifting weights every day. The
biggest change, though,
was in my pubic area. My suit covered shaft and balls were held in what
was now a stiff and
hardened case, holding my prick straight out from my body like a dildo on
a latex suit, except the
now purpling head was real. It felt like somebody's hand had a firm grip
on my cock and balls.
Firm, but not uncomfortable.
My fantasies vanished and reality hit me in the face like a brick. I
was trapped in some
nuts experiment, and couldn't get out. Frantically I tapped the code into
the controller, hoping to
be released. I heard the hum and beep, but instead of the relief I
wanted, a sharp searing pain
around the base of my cock doubled me over. When I recovered, I looked up
and saw the
bedroom clock reflected in the mirror. Evidently, Tara's original
instruction of 'start by six thirty'
and her new one of 'be there by seven fifteen' had a third one attached.
Fool with the controller
and pay for it.
I grabbed a pair of sweats and pulled them on and over my erection,
which stood out like
a tentpole, fished my car keys out my jeans, and headed out. I had a very
difficult time not
stopping to masturbate. The erection was going to make driving very difficult.
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