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Subject: {Spoonbender}JDR"The Factory"( mc toys caution )[1/1]
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                             JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults.  If you are 
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                           =====================
Fiction for adults only.(c) Spoonbender. Can be freely copied and
distributed, but not as part of any  fee paying service. If you
archive it please let me have access to the archive. Email me if you
want  more stories or if you have any constructive criticism. Please
don't flame me, I'm still learning the  craft. My address is

                                  ======
  I don't know how to classify this story. Maybe some reviewer with a
firmer grasp on reality than me  can do it for me.  
  "Demmed odd sort of tale, young fella!" As usual Colonel Bufton
Tufton has hit the nail right on the  head.  
  He switched off the computer and went back to his paper.  

    *******************************************************************
    ************************ THE FACTORY ******************************
    ************************ Spoonbender ******************************
    *************** theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk.  ****************
    *******************************************************************  


  Have you ever wondered what was behind some of those ads you see on
the news pages. You know the  ones.....  
  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hi I'm Lisa. I'm 19 and really horny. I can send you a pair of my used
panties and a photoset for only  $25.......
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  This is the story about one of those girls  
  I don't know how long I've been here. There ain't no night and day.
Just work and sleep, work and  sleep. What's that?  Oh, what do I do?  
  I'm a machinist I suppose. Least that's what I spend most of my time
doing. Sewing, you know  making clothes. Only one type though.
Panties. I make panties. I do other stuff too, I don't make  anything
else though, 'cept panties. I'll tell you all about it but I need
something in return.   
  Ok, ok.  Me first.  
  I'm sixteen. A description? Oh well I'm about 5' 2", 34, 30, 34,
sort of mousey coloured hair. Worn  long, hazel eyes, my boyfriend
reckons I'm pretty, but then he would say that wouldn't he?  
  I'm not a brainbox or anything like that. I'm just sort of ordinary.
One of a large family. Hardly  noticed. I did well enough at school. I
didn't flunk anything anyway.  
  Anyhow I had just finished school and gotten my first job. It was in
a garment factory, way over the  other side of the city. I had to get
my own apartment. It wasn't much of an apartment but it gave me a
sort of pride in my adulthood. I was out there making it on my own. I
had very few friends, the girls at  the factory didn't seem to last
long enough to become friendly with. Must be a high turnover of staff,
I thought. One day they were there the next day they'd just gone.
Some of them were just working class  girls like me, mostly young.
Others were students, you know cheerleader types. Brainy and stuff.
Talking about what they were gonna do when they finished college. They
were gonna be lawyers,  managers that sort of stuff. I wonder if they
did?  They were just working there, in the holidays, to get  some
spending cash. I really envied those girls with their bright futures,
even though they were a bit  stuck up.  
  What were we making?  
  We were making panties. Some of the girls seemed to specialise in
the sexy lace stuff. Me? I got plain  white standard schoolgirl ones
to do. All my own size too. Everyone seemed to be making the same
type of panties every time and all of them the size that would
perfectly fit the people that made them. I  thought it was a bit weird
at the time, but if they wanted to pay, what to me, was a pretty good
wage.  Then who was I to argue?  
  I'll tell you another strange thing. I had to put on this schoolgirl
outfit once, for a 'company photo'.  Pony tails, white socks, pleated
skirt the lot. I'd been there a few weeks but I thought this was
really  strange.   
  Why didn't I leave? The money I suppose. They gave me a payrise and
things just carried on as before.  I thought for a while my boss was a
sort of pervert. But he gave me an extra $50 a week, so I sorta
shrugged and said "what the heck". It was still kinda odd at the time,
I can understand why now, of  course. I looked a lot younger in the
photos. 12, 13 maybe.  
  Have I seen the photos? Oh yeah! I've seen the photos alright,
plenty of times.  
  Back to my job. I was given sort of cut out shapes of cloth, you
know bits of panty, and I had to  assemble the things completely, You
know, making a gusset, turning the seams, joining the sides,  fitting
the elastic. It was pretty tedious stuff, but I didn't mind, as I said
it was good money and I had  my walkman. I sort of lived in a fantasy
dreamworld. My fingers seemed to work automatically after a  while.  
  The boss had promised me an amazing increase in salary and a
transfer to a more interesting job, if I  could reach a certain number
of finished, non defective, goods per shift. His words, not mine. I
worked really hard, thinking I'd soon be out of here, and I became
pretty good. None of my products  had defects. Then I reached the
magic number and sustained it.  
  My boss was really pleased. One night he told me to stay on after
the other girls went home and he'd  show me my new job. I remember
sitting in the factory, it was really quiet, normally I couldn't
hardly  hear myself  think over the clatter of the sewing machines. I
heard a footstep behind me. I half turned  expecting to see my boss. I
don't remember anything else.  
  'Till I woke up here. I don't know where I am, though I feel for
some reason I'm still in Chicago. I  can't hear it but I think I can
feel a sort of rumble every now and then. I think its a train. It
'feels' like  the El. If you've lived in Chicago you'll know what I
mean.   
  Anyhow I'm here. Wherever. I'm in a sort of box. Its got all sorts
of racks and tubes and stuff all  around. In front of me is a sewing
machine, it was mounted on a sort of slide, so I could push it to one
side if I needed a flat surface. The box is probably 6 feet long and
about 4 feet wide and, maybe, five  feet tall. I'm sitting close to
one wall, about half way along one of the longest sides. In front of
me  there are bins which contain panty parts. It appears that I'm just
gonna continue making the same sort  of panties.   
  The strange this is that I'm naked. Least I think I am, I can't feel
any clothes down there. You see my  body has been fitted into a sort
of hole, so the bottom half of my body can't be touched, at least by
me.  I can't even see it, as the worktop goes all round with some sort
of inflated belt around my waist which  made it so I couldn't even get
a finger between my waist and the worktop. My bottom half seems  kinda
remote after all this time, like it ain't mine.  
  Which I suppose it ain't, not any more. Now its just part of the
machine. I'm sitting on some sort of  chair. 'Cept this is different.
It kinda swivels in the middle, you know, splits open. The seat is
kinda U  shaped I guess. I haven't seen it, just felt it, that's what
it feels like anyhow. It means that my vagina is  sorta poking down,
hanging free, easy to get at. My asshole too, when it ain't got that
horrible,  slippery, metal probe thing in it.   
  They've tied some sorta strap around my thighs, tied to a pole like
thing, best as I can tell, one for  each leg. They can move these,
with some sorta motor, so they can open and close my legs just as they
want. Its a kinda weird feeling, having no control. The machine just
says "Yeah lets open her legs"  and hey presto they're open, as wide
as it likes. Nothing I do will stop it. I've quit fighting it now.
They could take the straps off now and I'd open and close my legs
automatically. You see I know the  noises the machine makes now. I can
sense when it wants something. So I just give in. Do it. You  know
take part. It ain't that I've got any choice. It even decides that I
sleep with my legs wide open.  I've got a tall pillow thing. I lean
against it. Turn down the light and I sleep. Under the bench I am
wide. I  spend about half my time like that, wide.  
  What? Do I get fucked?  
  By a man? No. I've never been fucked by a man. I was a virgin when I
came here, strict Catholic  father you see. So I've never been fucked
properly. Of course the machine fucks me. It just can't leave  me
alone. It always wants something and I've just got to give in.
Anytime.  
  I'm even fucked awake. You know that?  Its like an alarm clock, a
fucking alarm clock. That's right a  FUCKING alarm clock! One minute
you're sleeping, the next you've got something inside you.  Pumping!
Its the most humiliating experience you can imagine. You wake up
completely out of it.  You don't know where you are, what you're
doing. Nothing. Except you're being fucked. Hard. Not the  gentle sort
of early morning lovemaking that married couples do everyday. Least I
think they do.  
  This is fast - hammering.  
  Look! Imagine me. I'm sitting here my legs are wide open and
something is fucking me. I can't see it,  I don't know what it looks
like. And I have to go to orgasm. The little book told me. You know
the  one they left me so I could read it when I woke up, that first
day. It told me that the only way I had of  stopping the machine was
to cum. The book also said that the machine automatically sensed when
I  was having a real one. So there was no good faking. So what do I
do? First thing in the morning. Well  my morning at least. I'm being
fucked. What do I do? I orgasm. 'Course I do. Ain't got any choice
have I? Not unless I want to be fucked for hours. I just play with my
tits and try to get off as soon as  possible. I've been sorta
calculating it. I reckon I can do it in about three minutes. Maybe I
could go  for an olympic record. I can go from asleep to cum in three
minutes. That must be a record. Maybe I'll  get in that book. You know
the one. Whats it called? Yeah that's it, the Guiness record book. I
could  get in there. If they have sex stuff. Probably don't, my little
brother had a copy and I don't think my  mum would be too pleased if
he read about sex stuff. So maybe I can't. I couldn't anyway. 'S cause
I'm  stuck here. That's what I want you to do for me. You know, find
me. Suss out the clues. I know. I  know. I can't help much. I'll think
about it. Talking it through with you helps. Helps me think.   
  So my day starts. Fucking. After I've cum the cock goes away and
then some cloth is pressed up  against my pussy. I couldn't work out
what it was at first. I soon realised. It was the panties. A pair of
panties was pressed up against my gash. Gusset up. I've seen the damp
patches, always in the same  place. The dildo comes back and pushes
the panties hard against my cunt. Then it starts vibrating.  Fast!  
  I've worked it all out. I think the dildo has a sorta sensor on it,
cause it seems to know when the  panties are wet enough. Cause it
suddenly just stops. Usually just as I'm about to cum. The panties are
removed, a new pair are placed up against me and it all starts again.
All day that goes on.  
  A hiss of air and the soiled panties are shot up a tube. I have to
get them and seal them into a bag,  with a photo of me in the school
uniform, one of my face, smiling, and one that I reckon is my pussy
with the dildo pushing into it. Leastways its somebody's pussy. Its
probably mine 'cept I've never seen  it like that before. With
something in it and all. Anyhow in with this lot goes a piece of
paper. It is  some shit about how I've got off for you, love you, man
of my dreams stuff. I seal it and post it  through a flap onto a
conveyor. I know there's a conveyor 'cause I opened the flap and saw
it once, I  saw other packages too so maybe I'm not alone. I got an
electric shock up my ass for that. I haven't  done it again. What I
want to to know is how do they know?  
  So all day I'm doing this. My cunt gets numb from the vibration
sometimes. They shoot something  into my ass. Aftershave  I think,
hurts like hell whatever it is. I soon get my feeling back. I get wet
again. On command.  
  All the time I'm working. Its like I'm in two parts. The top part is
a machinist, working away making  panties. Panties which get fed into
a machine that includes my bottom half. I think about it  sometimes.
You know about making panties that will never get worn. What do these
people do with  them? I make the panties then stretch them on a frame,
which is dropped into a slot thing. I have to  make sure I keep ahead
of the machine. Make sure that I don't get so wet that my stock of
panties runs  out before I can make more. I must keep ahead. If I
don't the machine hurts me. Its got lots of ways of  hurting me. I
just work hard. Try not to notice whats going on below me. As I said
I'm now two  different halves. One half belongs to me the other to the
machine.  
  I get to orgasm 8 times a day. Always 8 times. Always the same. The
fake cock fucks me. 7 times if  you don't count my wake up fuck. I can
request an orgasm. I press a button and when the machine  feels like
it, it fucks me. Other times it just does it. Legs open, bang, bang,
bang, cum, legs closed,  back to work. That's it. My total sexual
experience in a sentence.   
  I kinda like cumming. It feels nice. Makes me forget for a bit where
I am and what I'm doing. The  prick seems to vibrate as it pumps. Do
real men's thingies do that? I don't know, I've never done it  with a
man. Oh I guess I told you that already, haven't I? I'd like to try
it. You know, doing it with a  man. I reckon it would be nice. Maybe
I'd get to, maybe, have some say in it. Have a little control. I  hope
I can do it with you when you find me. If you're a man. Are you a man?  
  I bet you wouldn't wipe your Penis. Penis is a funny word isn't it.
I can't say it without giggling. I  heard it in the school Biology
class. All the girls giggling and going red. The schoolteacher
shouting  for order. Pee - nis! he-he. Penis. Peeeeeeenis!   
  I'm sorry about giggling. I'll be serious from now on. I've got a
straight face now. Anyhow, as I was  saying, I bet you wouldn't wipe
your penis on my panties after I've cum. Nor would you make me put
them into a special bag with an O printed in red on it. I bet you'd be
more romantic wouldn't you? I  wouldn't have to put my panties in a
bag at all if I'm with you would I? We'd be kinda romantic  together.
Are you romantic? My boyfriend was. He always said nice things to me
as he put his hand  up my skirt. Saying how beautiful I was an all. I
was going to do it with him. Go all the way. He was  going to buy some
condoms. I won't now of course. Well, I've got you for a start, I can
picture you in  my mind. Strong and handsome. You are strong and
handsome aren't you? My boyfriend probably has  someone else now
anyway. Oh well. He was handsome too.  
  What? Oh is it vibrating? Now do you mean? Sure! Yes. But I can
mostly ignore it if I want. Don't tell  the machine will you. Keep
your voice down. I don't want it to know. I can't ignore it completely
though. Well you can't can you? Its buzzing. I can't hear it, I can
feel it. I know. Female intuition, plus  a numby sort of buzzy feeling
round my crotch. Oops its finished. Must have been wetter than I
thought, must have been 'cause I was thinking of you. Wait a minute,
don't go away.  
  There! done. Another package goes who knows where. Do you know?
Where do they go? Are you still  there?  
  Good! Thanks for staying with me. I get really lonely. Aaaaah, sorry
about that the thing banged up to  me pretty hard that time. Nearly
pushed them inside. I'd never get them out then. Its Ok, its buzzing
again. Back to normal.  
  Where was I? Oh yeah. Talking about me.   
  Clothing? No I'm not wearing anything. Leastways up top. Can't feel
anything below, so I guess I'm  naked. Got these little sucker things
on my titties though. I'm looking at 'em now. Like little rubber
suckers. I can't get 'em off. Must be attached in some way. If I pull
'em. Ouch. They hurt. They suck  too. Sucking suckers you could say.
Got these little tubes and wires and shit running from 'em. They  suck
when I'm being fucked. Its kinda nice. The feeling sorta rushes down
from my tits and meets the  feeling from my cunt coming the other way.
That's the best way I can describe it. When they meet.  Sockeee. Pow!
I cum. Cum like a train. Bet you're shocked now aren't you?  
  I get shocked as well. Not a sort of 'Oh my gosh I wasn't expecting
that' sort of shocked. Shocked with  electricity. If the machine
thinks I've been bad I get shocked. In my tits. It really hurts. I
don't like it.  Up my bum too. I try not to make him angry.  
  He takes care of me. He feeds me. He cleans me. He washes me. He
fucks me and he puts me to sleep.  
  What do I eat?  Oh I get fed on scraps. You know good food all mixed
up. Lots of different things,  like lasagne, spaghetti and ice cream.
I must be near an Italian restaurant. Hey that's another clue isn't
it? You'll soon be able to work out where I am. Get help, come and
rescue me. Oh god maybe I can  get out of this place. Be free
again.....  
  *********************************************************************  
  "Unit 162 is having imaginary conversations again."  
  The control supervisor rolled his chair towards operator 2's
console. He scrutinised the video and  listened in on the headphones
to the chatter.  
  "Ok. We'd better take her mind off it. Give her a double dose
fucking, say for an hour. Before that  increase the size of the dildo
to, let me think, yes! A 9 incher, that'll be her size from now on.
Put the  tit and ass shocks on too. Give her the works. I think its
about time she learned that she was here to  work, not to indulge in
idle chatter."  
  The operator switched to her lower view on the video then initiated
the sequence suggested by the  supervisor. A few seconds later a new
dildo swung out of its storage bin, then clicked into place facing
her cunt. Her legs sprang open and moments later, buzzing busily, the
dildo started to hammer into  action.  
  Her talking was replaced by grunting moans. Her moment of sanity had
gone.  

  ********************************************************************  
  FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and
who is prepared to collaborate  with me on future stories. You will
naturally share the credit, such as it is. If you are she, then please
email the author at theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk  
  Theodore Spoonbender.  

                                ***********
                                THE FACTORY 
                                Spoonbender 
                                   -30-


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