Kelly bounded up the steps, her tits bouncing in time with her ponytail. A moment later she was in my office, panting.
"Sorry it took so long. I went to the library, like you said, but all the computers were being used. I mean, I didn't go to the corral because you said not to."
She brushed a hair from her face.
"Anyway, I hung around. I mean, there were people just sitting at the desks, not even using the computers. I gave up and came back here, but then I remembered the lab. I have a key."
She handed me a thumb drive.
"I hope that was okay."
I smiled. No, it was definitely not okay. I had given her a password I wasn't supposed to have to access files I wasn't supposed to access. I had told her to use one of the computers scattered around the library, not the ones in the corral because you had to sign up to use them. And as for the lab, how many people had keys? Three? Four? Wouldn't take a genius to figure out she'd used a computer there.
But I just smiled and said, "No, that's fine."
I popped the drive into my computer.
"Uh, Paul? My name came up. I'm on the list."
I wasn't surprised. After doing this for ten years I'd developed an intuition for these things. Reason I hired her in the first place. Eighteen years old and naturally submissive. I jumped at the opportunity to get my hands on her before the PC morons messed with her head. If there was any messing to be done, I was going to do it.
"I see that."
She was a chi, not an omega, not totally submissive, but only one step away. Close enough.
"What, uh, what is it? The list, I mean."
"You took a test during orientation. It measures, among other things, dominant and submissive qualities. On one end you have your alphas and on the other your omegas, but most people fall somewhere in the middle, on a bell curve. The school uses the data to assign appropriate counselors. Different people need different kinds of help."
Which was mostly a lie. The school only cares about the alphas, the ones who will go on to be rich and powerful and, hopefully, very generous to their alma mater. They get special mentoring. Everyone else gets a counselor in their discipline, pretty much at random.
"Why am I on your list? I mean, what does it mean?"
"It means you get to be my first guinea pig."
I smiled at her.
"Every year I select several students for follow up testing. It's how I validate the results. Times change, people change, and sometimes the test needs to be tweaked a bit."
"And this alpha omega thing, what am I?"
"Can't tell you that until the follow up. Then you'll know for yourself. But for now, don't get hung up on terms or assign meaning to the classifications. It's not better to be an alpha than an omega. The alphas have to be constantly on the defensive because there are others who want to take them down. The people in the middle are a combination, wear different hats. The judge dominates her court, but she submits to her gynecologist. The omegas have it easiest. They go along to get along. Nobody messes with them because they're not a threat. And in spite of the fact that they don't compete, per se, many of them go on to be very successful in their chosen fields. The bottom line is to find out who you are and be the best you you can be."
Kelly frowned, but nodded.
"Yeah, I can see that. Uh, when are you going to do the test?"
"Now is as good a time as any. You're done for the week, right? No classes this afternoon?"
"Uh uh. What kind of test is it?"
"Without going into too much detail, you're going to read from a list of statements, then I'll put you in isolation for a while. When you come out I'll retest you and we'll see what stuck. Come on."
I led her into the back room, sat her at the computer, and adjusted the microphone.
"Statements will appear on the screen and I want you to read them aloud. Keep your voice steady, very matter of fact, as if you were reading from a book."
"There will be alpha statements like, 'I am a queen. I own all the property. I own all the people. The people obey me.' Then there are omega statements like, 'I am a slave. I obey my master. I submit to my master.' Then there will be several statements indicative of the middle of the curve. And, when all is said and done, some combination of statements will stick in your head."
Kelly nodded.
I stepped over to the cabinet and retrieved the vial, sucked some brown liquid up into the bulb.
"I'm going to put a drop of this under your tongue. Open."
Kelly opened her mouth, raised her tongue.
Why was I even going to bother? She was already a chi, already submissive and obedient. I didn't need to lay the mind fuck on her.
But I would. Truth is I get off on it.
"It tastes kind of minty," I said.
I squirted a few drops in her mouth.
"You're going to feel a bit of a rush. You'll feel alert, but kind of mellow. It'll help you stay focused on this part of the test."
Kelly nodded.
"Yeah, I can feel it."
"Good, good. Ready?"
"Mm."
I stayed with her for a few minutes. When I figured she had a handle on things I went back to my office.
I began editing the recording, mixing Kelly's statements in with others I'd made previously. I adjusted the volume to keep everything on the same subliminal level. She would get a triple whammy. She'd hear her own voice saying, "I am a slave." Stating it as fact. Then there would be my voice. "You are a slave." And, "Kelly is a slave." It would hit her brain from three directions, the whole greater than the sum of the parts. And it all would be buried beneath some pleasant, if not hypnotic, soft music.
Then there would be the visuals.
Mixed in with scenes of bound woman I had added pictures of Kelly. Some I'd Photoshopped, putting her head on a bound girl's body, pasting a gag on her face, that kind of thing. All Kelly would see is a series of patterns, kind of dream like, but every few seconds, for an instant, one of the pictures would pop up. Too quickly to register in her conscious mind, but it would be absorbed by her subconscious.
After I finished the recording I let Kelly run through the list a couple of more times to make it seem like it was really part of some kind of test.
I'd devised the exam when I was eighteen. My psych professor seduced me. (And I let her. She was neither old nor ugly. And I was, well, eighteen.) She had developed the alpha test for the school administrators. I was curious about the omegas and as a class project she let me mess with her test to see if I could ID those at the other end of the scale. It wasn't as easy as I'd thought. You can't just take the alpha indicators, reverse them and get omegas. But I did it. I found the omegas, and everybody in between.
Jane didn't seem impressed and I realized it was because she was no longer interested in me. She had a new pet. Pissed me off. I followed them around, took pictures, turned them over to the dean. Bye bye Jane. And since I played a large role in developing the new test, it was easy to talk my way into administering it, I mean now that Jane was gone. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Other schools showed an interest in the test and I had built a nice little business out of it. But my main interest is in the Kellys of the world. For my own personal use, you understand. I'm a beta. Not an alpha, but almost as good.
I keep one omega for me. The others get the same treatment Kelly was about to get and then I sell them. It's not really an outright sale. It's more of a matchmaking service and I get a fee. Okay, yes, there are times when I sell them outright. There is a ready market for compliant, submissive young women and my 'product' is very much in demand. I once sold three to a Zen Master. Who said monks were celibate? His rationalization was that he could only trust those that he was physically intimate with...and could dominate. Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Om.
Kelly came into the office.
"I'm done."
"Good. How do you feel?"
"I don't know. A bit burnt out."
"Yeah, the drug will do that, get you up quickly, but you come down just as fast. Come on, let's move on to phase 2."
I led her down stairs to my basement lab. She opened her mouth for another drop, a different drug this time, a drug very popular with the date rape crowd. Not that I planned to rape her. When the time came she'd be willing, very willing indeed.
The effect was instantaneous. She just stood and stared. When I spoke to her she looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. I stripped her.
She had a nice body, if a bit on the curvy side, but I like curvy. She shows her Asian ancestry with her black hair, black bush, brown nipples. Her father was a Scot, a serviceman, Navy, I think she said. But you couldn't tell by looking at her. Well, except maybe her nose. It's not big, but bigger than your average Asian's.
I took her arm and led her into the bathroom. When I gave her the enemas. She objected in a drugged out kind of way and she was definitely not happy with the catheter, but her objections were totally ineffective.
I have a collection of isolation chambers, but I decided to use the wax tube. It has a wooden base, a clear plastic tube, and a wooden lid. I stood Kelly on the base, set the catheter bottle between her feet.
The goggles came out of our science lab. The inside plastered with an LCD screen. I pressed the buds into her ears. Wedged the snorkel behind her teeth. Taped the wires to it. I tugged the rubber cap over her head.
The tube looks heavy, but it's very thin and wobbly until it's set in the base. I hefted it easily and lowered it over Kelly, set it in a groove in the base, picked up the lid, fed the snorkel through a hole, and set the lid in place.
I made the connections and tested the system. Everything was good to go. I checked the wax. It still needed a few degrees, but would be ready in a couple of minutes. It didn't have to get all that hot to become liquid.
I got the idea at the fair, at the wax hands tent. Basically it's a pot of melted wax that you stick your hand into. The wax is on the hot side of warm, but not that hot. The stuff sets up hard at room temperature.
I swung the pipe over, inserted the end into the lid, and opened the valve. The opaque white liquid flowed onto Kelly's head, dripped off the goggles, puddled on her tits before dripping off. It took several minutes, but soon her feet were covered. When level reached her knees, I turned off the valve to give the wax a chance to set. I wasn't sure about the difference in specific gravity between the wax and the girl, but I didn't want her to float.
I opened the valve again and the level rose inch by inch up her legs, up to her crotch, up and over her belly up to her tits. I momentarily stopped the flow again.
When the wax oozed out of the lid I shut the valve for the last time. The was wasn't completely opaque and I could see a vague, brown form inside. It was time to wake Kelly up.
I started the program, double checked that the levels were correct, then I set up the drip. It was a flexible tube at the end of what had begun its life as an IV rig.
The drug was another invention of ours, top secret stuff for the government, but it hadn't panned out.
With all the new technology the Army has it's getting harder to train the men in the short time that they have. The drug opens the brain, makes it like a sponge. A person can take in two or three times the information.
Problem is, it doesn't last. The information is absorbed too fast for permanent changes to occur. They found that repeated treatments enhanced retention, but it reached the point where it was almost taking longer in the drug-enhanced state than in the old fashioned rote system, so they shelved the idea. Even though subjects with the drug-assisted learning retained information at almost twice the level. Still, they nixed it.
Their loss was my gain. I conned the lab rats into letting me have it for my psychological 'research'. The cocktail I'd drip into Kelly's mouth contained both the drug and some serious uppers. She'd be totally wired for the next day or two and oh so very receptive.
***
The tube lay on its side, cradled by the metal stands, surrounded by heat lamps. I'd removed the end caps and wax dripped out. The girl that emerged was was thin, waif-like, no tits to speak of, more like a nipple on a muscle. Not my type. Still, that's what the client ordered.
Kelly had found her. She was very good at finding them. Whereas I have my intuition and my test, with her I think it's a case of it takes one to know one. At first I'd tested the girls, but I don't any more. Kelly was 100%,
And it's better for the school. Fewer girls disappear from here now that Kelly trolls the population at large.
"Every time we do this I feel so happy. Happy that you helped me see the real me. Happy for the girl knowing she's going to a special home, one made just for her. But mostly I'm grateful. Grateful that you want to keep me. I try hard to please you, Paul."
She slipped to her knees, undid my pants.
"I do please you, don't I?"
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26.08.11