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From: dantedibby@aol.com (Dantedibby)
Subject: Twighlight Zone 4 by Seurat: Art Critic 1b/8
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See headers and warning on post 1a.


     In my mind I saw myself, an observer in my own life.  I saw my wife
as she was when we first
met; plain yet attractive, and how she changed through the years of our
relationship.  Our
wedding day, the two years since, the changes in her and the changes in
me.  Things had slowed
for us, become routine.  Sex happened once or twice a month, interspersed
with art shows, odd
jobs, racquetball games, and her choir practice. In fact, we hardly saw
each other during the
evenings; I played Racquetball Monday and Thursday and had a regular art
opening on Tuesdays,
and she had choir on Wednesdays.  It was one particular art show that
stood out in my head, and
the racquetball game the following night that put me where I was now.
      I met Tara Worthington at one of those art openings.  I was there to
write a review, she was
there as the artist.  She was attractive by all accounts.  Long curly
black hair framed a perfect face
with full lips and blue eyes; she was short next to me, her  firm
five-four frame dwarfed by my
lanky six-four.  We got to talking about things, such as her sculptures
(mostly wrought iron and
manikin parts), my racquetball, and finally decided to play a game the
next night.  If I knew then
what was to come out of the game, I probably would have given up the sport.
     My mind drifted towards more recent memories, of a day that seemed
very recent..  I felt
myself sitting on our couch, watching TV during a rainstorm.  If you could
call it watching. 
Mostly I just sat there, remote control in hand, and flipped through the
channels.  On rainy days
like this, that was all there was to do.  That, or read the porn on the
internet.  I had collected over
three thousand sex stories, and the number grew daily.
     My wife came in to remind me to pick up lottery tickets on the way to
my game tonight.
Always playing the lottery.  She said we would hit the big one some day -
the Super Seven, and
we could both retire.  Retired at thirty, to do what ever we wanted, when
we wanted, with no ties
to anybody.  Only in my dreams.  She put on her coat over the suitably
frumpy outfit she wore,
kissed me goodbye, and walked out the door to the garage.  She loved me,
and I her, but whereas
I hadn't changed much physically in the past eight years since we'd met,
she had put on weight. 
That, when combined with career problems, had killed our sex life and was
stagnating our
marriage.
     Soon after she left, I went upstairs and changed into shorts and
T-shirt for that night's game. 
Tara Worthington would either be an easy kill or impossible to beat; I
couldn't seem to find a
player in them middle.  Not that it made much difference.  Just to see her
in shorts would be
enough to keep my masturbation fantasies going for weeks.  All this began
to fade from my mind
as the drug-fog lifted from my head.
     My eyes fluttered open once or twice, trying to adjust to the bright
light which surrounded
me.  As I awoke, I took mental stock of everything I could feel or sense. 
Arms straight out,
fingers spread apart and held by some force.  Body horizontal, head
restrained by a strap over the
forehead and another under the chin but over the neck.  Another strap just
above the knees, and
another over the ankles.
     "Wakey, wakey, Alan.  Glad to have you back."  I tried to reply, but
found that my mouth
had been gagged with a dental dam.  "Alan, you have just become part of my
latest art project. 
Tonight was only the first part, and you've passed with flying colors.  I
realize that you'll have to
get back to your darling wife soon, so I'll make this quick.  You will
follow my directions for the
next six Wednesday nights, and will follow all my orders.  If you don't," 
She said, as she made a
motion out of my view,"you'll experience a little discomfort."  I saw her
press a button on what
looked to be a remote control, and a searing pain went through my cock and
balls, centered at the
base.  I screamed into the gag, and tears fell from my eyes.
     "That was a low level.  Imagine what could be done at a higher level.
 Disobey, and you
won't have to imagine.  I'm very serious when it comes to my art."  She
removed the ball gag and
head straps, and I immediately looked down at my cock.  I saw nothing that
wasn't there
normally.
     "What did you do to me?  Why are you doing this to me?  Why?" I
blurted out, unable to
control myself.
     "Well Alan.  I can call you Alan, can't I?  After our little get
together before, I figured we
should be on a first name basis.  Well, I did a little research into your
life.  Quite a fascination you
have with the internet.  Evidently you have saved over 3000 stories from
the alternate-sex boards. 
I, too, get a lot of my ideas from the alt.sex boards.  Femine dominance,
bondage, all the fun stuff. 
The predominant theme which runs through those stories you saved.  As the
saying goes, 'be
careful what you wish for, even if it's in your dreams.  You may get it.' 
Well Alan, you're gonna
get it."  She got up and started to untie my legs.
     I noticed for the first time the shape and color of the room.  All
white, circular, almost
antiseptic in nature.  A large electronic device shaped like a mixing
board, hooked to a computer
and a rack of components.  A distinctive mix of alcohol and cooked rubber.
     "Why?"
     "You are an experiment, Alan.  A work of art in progress."
     Just my luck, to meet a µFatal Attraction' psycho.
     "Before I let you up, I want to warn you that to try to harm me would
be very stupid and even
more painful.  You would live out your days wishing for death, the pain
would be so great.  All I
ask for is a few evenings of your time."
     I started to get up, but by fingers were still tied down.  "Do you mind?"
     "As I said, don't do anything foolish."  She pressed another button
on the remote control,
and my hands were suddenly free.  I tried to get up, but my head spun, and
as soon as I moved
any of my muscles, my entire body ached like I had a bad sunburn.  I
decided to lie down for a
few more minutes.
     "The pain you feel is part of my project.  I've laced your body with
a crystal nerotransmitter,
just under the surface of the skin.  It covers nearly your entire body, a
little less on your scalp, but
it isn't easy working around all that hair.  Now you know why I shaved
you.  The crystals are not
noticeable but they are permanent; the pain you feel is from their
implantation, and will pass in a
day or two.  It's sort of an invisible tatoo.
     "By themselves the crystals do nothing.  However, they are linked by
means of your own
nerve synapses, creating a receiving net which covers your entire body. 
They are attuned to a set
of ocillating high frequencies to this remote.  When connected to another
set of liqui-crystals, they
will transmit electrical signals directly to nerve centers, allowing you
to experience sensations
through external media.  What this means to you, my little confused
friend, is that I can, with the
help of my other toys, make you feel the rush of water, or the touch of a
rose, or the pain of fire. 
This is all part of one of my artistic experiments, and you were lucky
enough to be chosen.  Don't
you feel proud?"
     I tried again to get up, and it didn't work.  "Excuse me for being a
little dense, but I was
recently drugged.  What the HELL is going on?"
     She walked over to a small table and picked up a tube of some sort of
gel, squeezed some
into her hand, and rubbed it over my chest.  She returned to the table and
picked up two small
objects, about the size of bean bags, and came back to me.  "Do you like
breasts, Alan?  You
know, tits?  Something nice to suck on, a female errogenous zone, a sex
object?  Well, tell me
what you think about these."  She first pushed one onto my chest (which I
noticed was shaved
clean), centering my nipple into a small indentation on the back of the
small falsey, then did the
other.  They were small and flesh colored, and would have been less than a
half handful.  Wiping
what was left of the goop off her hand, she picked up the remote, and
pressed a number of
buttons.
     The remote hummed for a second, then let out a beep.  A wave of
tingling swept across
my chest, and before my eyes the fake breasts became part of my chest. 
"Hey!  Wait a minute! 
What do you think you're doing?"  She just smiled, and pressed a few more
buttons on the
remote.  I got up and, still stumbling, tried to reach Tara.  The control
hummed, then beeped
again.  My new chest expanded greatly, now to a c-cup, standing high and
firm.  The weight
threw me off  balance, and I fell to the carpeting.  Tara walked over to
me, and smiled at my
dilemma.  
     "My prosthetics are composed of a number of different crystals, which
can simulate the
feel of nearly any material, including skin.  Once activated, the
prosthetics integrate themselves
with the crystal neuro-network.  By exchanging moisture from the
surrounding air and chemicals
from the dead skin on which it lies, it can expand or contract as
required.  In effect, I can sculpt
your body into anything I want, as long as it is skin tight.  Like give
you the kind of tits you
always wanted in a girl."
     "Please don't do this to me..."
     "Oh Alan, so predictable.  I'm not doing this on a permanent basis to
you.  The way this
works will be simple.  I've given you a small ring of extra skin around
the base of your genitals. 
That was what caused you the pain.  Follow my directions, and in a few
weeks I'll take it off."
     "What is it you want?"  I got off the floor, trying to arch my back
to support my new chest,
and succeeded only in making them stand out.  The whole situation was
unnerving. 
     "That's better.  On Wednesdays, when you return home from work, you
will find a box in
your house.  As soon as your wife leaves, you will follow the directions
in the box, and dress in
the items you'll find within.  You will activate the remote and attach the
prosthetics, and dress in
theclothes provided.  The remote will be timed so that if you do not begin
the operation by
six-thirty, the pain will begin, and will progress until you are
incapacitated.  Any time after
nine-thirty you may enter your code, and the prosthetics will deactivate
and come off.  Very
simple, actually.  One night a week for a few weeks, and you get to
experience what most men
would die for.  Do we have an agreement?"
     "I don't think I have a choice in the matter, do I?"  She shook her
head no, smiling all the
while.  "Then would you mind taking these off, so I may leave, and get
back to the real world?"
     "Why no, no problem.  One other thing" she said.  I groaned.  "We can
balloon nerve
areas and concentrate them to points, so effects are magnified."  She
reached over and began
carressing my new left breast.  Sensations akin to a coming orgasms fogged
my mind, and I saw
the nipple become hard and erect.  She smiled again, and stopped. 
"Thought you might like to
know.  By planning things carefully, I can enhance your most sensitive
areas, or turn them off, or
even give you all new ones.  Isn't this going to be fun?"  She tapped a
number code into the
remote and hit a red button.  The remote hummed for a second and beeped. 
My new breasts
shrank and with an audible sucking sound came off in Tara's hands.  She
put them on a table.
     "One other small rule.  I don't want you to masturbate, at all.  Sex
with your wife is okay,
but none by yourself.  Your little device will let me know if you falter."
 Oh wonderful, I thought. 
I can't go two days without jacking off, let alone a week at a shot.
     Tara handed me my clothes and, without saying a word, rushed me to
the stairs.  I saw a
small digital clock on the wall and realized why.  Almost time for the
wife to come home.  I pulled
on the shorts and rushed downstairs; her little lab had been in the attic.
 As she opened the front
door she gave me a little kiss.  "Don't forget to shave.  If you do it at
least every other day, it isn't
so bad.  Let it go for a week, and the razor burn will keep you from
wearing jeans for days.  Same
time, next week.  I'll be looking forward to our next...game."

     I climbed into the car, and started rifleing through the rest of my
clothes looking for the
car keys.  Not only did I find them, but my wedding ring and my wallet
also.  I started the car and
rushed home, trying to dress on the way.  Wednesday nights were not going
to be boring for a
while.


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