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Masturbation

Marsha had been intrigued with the idea of putting ‘things’ into her body for as long as she could remember. Perhaps ‘actively engaged’ was a better way to describe it.

She always endeavored to satisfy her curiosities with immediate action.

Her Mother never tired of telling the story of finding her little girl with a string bean in each nostril and the leg of a doll partially down her throat. She was supposedly five when this incident occurred. Marsha didn’t quite remember experiencing the story in question, but many similar activities had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember.

As a child, Marsha was actually proud that her Mother would tell this tale and went as far in her judgement of people that she would look down on them if they were not impressed by it. Before adolescence, Marsha just accepted all this as part of her inquisitive nature. The same drive that got her into science fairs as early as the sixth grade compelled her find out how far the little rubber gum pick on the end of her tooth brush could go into her tear duct or to discover the ideal type of pencil eraser that felt good replacing the ear wax in her ear canal.

Once adolescence hit, the experimental girl became much more interested in things that felt good in other holes, and not just the usual ones. She found it interesting to see what feelings could be elicited with not just the typical sex toys, which in any event weren’t readily available, but everything in the medicine cabinet from suppositories to thermometers. The later were small enough to experiment with her urethra. By her late teens, Marsha knew ways to create intense sensations using just about every opening in her body.

With all this focus on things, there was still the question of sexuality. It might seem that with so many inanimate diversions the idea of partnering would never enter the girl’s mind, but Marsha’s desires and erotic dreams said otherwise. Fantasies of lovers that wanted to watch her or use things on herself dominated her erotic inner life. When wet dreams carried her away in the rushing torrents of an unfettered subconscious, it was always a mysterious man or woman needing to see and becoming aroused as they watched Marsha skillfully penetrate herself before they offered themselves to their orifice filling Queen to have themselves taken the same way at Marsha’s whims.

The violent intensity of her orgasms often woke her immediately from these dreams.

High school hadn’t yielded a single fellow enthusiast or even any particularly exciting romances. Whatever the special something was that drove Marsha’s passions, she seemed to be the only woman in Short Port that had it. The potential opportunities of going away to college that excited many young adults held special promise for her, especially if she could find a school that provided a pathway to explore of her special needs and desires.

Life as a college freshman started in the usual fashion for Marsha. In her first semester, she had been preoccupied with a choice of major and learning the material for her classes. More importantly, she was learning what subjects might pan out into an engaging career. A first semester of anatomy, chemistry, statistics and sculpture hadn’t left much time for a ‘personal life’ as such. Many of her fellow freshmen experienced similar dynamics, but they were all alone together, as it were, focused on their studies. This didn’t stop Marsha from enjoying the nuances of medicine droppers, phallically shaped shampoo containers, avocado pits and baby oil as she fantasized herself to sleep after a long tedious day of study.

The second semester was to be a bit different …

Marsha’s interest in psychology led her to enroll in the introductory class. Every student of psychology 101 was required to participate in an experiment of their own choosing being conducted by one of the graduate student bursa escort researchers. Marsha had picked one that involved reporting her reactions to a new type of hand-held massage tool. The Cephosage was part of the next generation in robotics where the actuator array modeled the evolved traits of some particular animal. There were robots that acted like snakes, fish, grasshoppers, dogs and this one, modeled after the highly agile and versatile tentacles of an octopus.

And so it was, on a bright March morning, Marsha strolled into the reception area of the graduate psychology lounge to fulfill her freshman lab requirement.

As the resourceful, alert young woman entered the psych lounge, a grad student in a white lab coat and loafers walked briskly towards her and held out his hand.

“Otto Grath, … you must be Marsha.”

“Marsha Vazio,” she held his gaze while lifting her hand.

The two shook hands only slightly awkwardly and Otto gestured towards the hallway leading to the lab, not waiting for her response.

“Come this way. We can get the experiment done in less than half an hour and you’ll have your class credits.” Otto expected a lackluster acknowledgement but Marsha surprised him.

“What if I want a longer experiment?” questioningly she lifted her brows just a bit.

Otto turned, prepared for a face dripping sarcasm, surprised to see she was more than a little serious.

“What do you know about octopi?” Otto said almost automatically. He quickly changed course sensing no particular reaction from his test subject. “Robotics?”

“I’m not on a science track exactly, but the idea that you can make an inanimate object act, do things, move around on command; I find that very interesting. I want to see what this Cephosage thing can do.” Marsha hoped she might get some backstory; see more capabilities than the simple experiment she had signed up for would reveal.

“Well, I can show you what sort of motions it’s capable of. But what it can *do* really depends on people. How they react to it. That’s what this experiment is about.”

“You are going to measure my reactions to, … your device?” Marsha regretted something about the wording but she felt a chill run through her when she saw Otto’s reaction. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

He was nodding, “Yes. That’s what this is about.”

They had reached the lab. Otto gestured to a big chair that looked like something from a dentists office. She could see some un-used metal bands that were retracted at various points around the chair. Points that she realized could be used to hold someone immobile in the chair if their arms and legs were secured there. Another little chill ran up Marsha’s spine, but she realized that she’d be sitting freely on the chair today, unbound.

“Hop up and make yourself comfortable. We will attach an EEG device around your head and put a device to check blood flow around your wrist. Both devices can monitor your body temperature as well … we like to get temperature from various parts of the body.”

Marsh blushed lightly as she imagined being rolled over and having Otto slide a thermometer up her behind, not an unusual medical procedure in some circumstances. Did she like this guy? Why was she having naughty thoughts? It could just be the anticipation of … the device.

“We are going to operate Cephosage in various positions near and touching your body. You read and signed the release? It basically describes what we’re going to do.”

“Yes, that’s all fine. I have more ideas though. Maybe after the experiment I could ask more questions? I know speech has to be suppressed … during.” Marsha held the researcher’s gaze with a steady dispassionate expression.

Otto returned her gaze silently a moment, considering. “Let’s do the experiment and see.”

“OK!” Marsha figured she had almost a half hour to observe bursa escort bayan and come up with compelling arguments to persuade Otto. She relaxed back into the chair, ignoring him as he adjusted the EEG sensor cap on her head, looking around the lab.

Besides the Cephosage sitting on a tray beside her chair, She noted a rack of monitoring equipment and adjustment knobs that Otto was working. Cephosage’s tubes disappeared into one of the layers in the rack. The chair itself seemed to have a control panel, and the bands that looked like arm and ankle cuffs indeed had servos to close them on command.

Even more intriguing was a set of glass cases with panel doors just behind the monitoring racks. There sat a variety of objects resembling Cephosage, with sizes different than the one on the tray beside her. There seemed to be a variety of shapes and textures. Some of the units appeared to be manifolds unifying sets of Cephosage-like devices. There was no other EEG monitor to be seen.

“How many Cephosage variants are there?” Marsha was direct.

“Right now, a variety of prototypes exist for different functions. Some aren’t quite safe yet, but we have to start somewhere,” Otto answered without a pause even though he was still calibrating the experiment.

“So where exactly do you ‘start’?”

“What? Oh, well, there’s probing appendage prototypes or PAP’s as we call them, for pretty much every orifice. Tear ducts, nostril probes to explore the sinus as well as the esophagus connection, eustachian tubes from inside the mouth, throat with trachea aeration … We test these on cow parts we get from the butcher.” Otto displayed no trace of emotion in this revelation as he vaguely pointed at the glass case.

“That’s a surprise. I thought this was an external health aid. For massaging and such.” Marsha’s thought process exploded in a million directions at once but she suppressed her reaction, mirroring Otto’s affectless patter, and felt a surge of frustration with the scientist. How could he be so detached about this subject? Especially considering he was working on it! Why did it seem like no one had any interest in things that were, well, interesting?!?

“You’re right. The unit we’re testing today has those functions.”

Ugh! It would be a struggle to get more information from this guy. She started looking around carefully for clues about what was here in the lab while Otto worked. He kept looking at a whiteboard on the side of the glass case. It looked like there were several rows of names … program names or passwords maybe? He would look up from time to time and type in what he read there.

“Now Marsha, we’ll try the proximity test. Please close your eyes and remain quiet, just as described in the release form.”

Marsha silently complied while thinking. She wouldn’t be able to observe much while her eyes were closed … what could she do to learn more about this stuff? Otto must be working for Professor Sayarose. She could approach him for information perhaps? But she really wanted to just try out this stuff. How could she do that? She couldn’t just ask to borrow time on the equipment so that she find out how it felt wiggling in her ass. What the hell was she going to do?

There was an odd sensation building, almost like butterfly wings brushing her face. She involuntarily fluttered open an eyelid. Almost immediately Otto chided her.

“I can see some activity from the optic areas, please keep your eyes closed Miss Vazio.”

Martha closed her eyes and resumed her ruminations. That was an odd feeling! Almost like the tentacle was crawling along her skin without quite touching her. This was going to be an odd half hour …

After the experiment, Marsha let loose the flood of questions she had built up.

“How does the device know how far it is away from me?”

“That’s its proximity sensors,” Otto seemed escort bursa like he was going to elaborate but was cut off.

“How do the motion patterns happen? Is it programmed or random?”

“It’s hierarchical patterns. The lower level motions are almost direct playback, but there are different ones chosen depending on the high level action. The levels work together with the appendage to make it do something useful. It’s …”

“And what about the massaging on my arm? It felt like the tentacle could generate considerable pressure but it seems flimsy. How does it create the pressure?”

“The tentacle loops around, attaching to itself and then contracting. It is really the power to shrink that gives the squeezing pulses you experienced. Now we can finish up the experiment with the interview questions. How did you rate this overall as a massage experience?”

“Well, it was crude. I felt feedback somehow, but the massage didn’t develop in the way I wanted …”

The interview went on for only five minutes more and the experiment was complete. Otto resisted every attempt Marsha made to elicit more information. She guessed that he was afraid of a lawsuit and on top of it all genuinely didn’t care. How could he be a researcher in this lab?!?

Despite the obstacles, Marsha walked out with a new world of possibilities spinning in her head. She had great inspiration for picking a few majors she hadn’t considered before, but a more immediate agenda was forming in her mind. She wanted to get at those prototypes and experiment with them in a, personal way … but how?

After a week that included several study sessions in the lounge outside the psych lab, Marsha had formulated a plan.

It had been easy to linger there at odd hours. So many students at all levels were enrolled in classes in the department and the psych library was adjacent to it as well. Officially there was no food allowed in the lab or the library, making the lounge snack machines and couches very popular. The lab doors locked at 5pm every evening. Everyone needing access from then until 7am used a pass card.

The thing was, this pass card system hadn’t been updated for at least 5 years or so. Those cards had data on them that could be read by RFID scanning devices, Martha had read about this …

The rogue experimenter had made her observation on Tuesday. After a little illicit recording session and a visit to an acquaintance that knew RFID technology inside and out, she was the proud owner of several functioning badges that definitely were not approved issue from lab security.

At 10pm, Thursday evening, Marsha made her move. Pulling a putty knife taped to a half broom handle out of her backpack, she slid the device behind one of the vending machines to wedge the blade between a 220 volt plug and the wall. With a little wiggling, the plug was out and the machine died. She repeated with process with the whole collection of vending machines servicing the lounge.

Replacing her makeshift sabotage device in the backpack, Marsha settled down with a book to wait.

Shortly, one of the all-night regulars emerged from the lab and wandered over to his usual source of spicy corn nuts. He put change into the machine before realizing it was dead. “Shit!” was all that came out of his mouth when he realized no savory snack was forthcoming.

“Hafta go ta discount …” he muttered and shuffled out the door, presumably to the convenience store across from campus. That would have him walking for awhile.

The same scene repeated itself two more times in the next ten minutes and Marsha picked her moment. She swiped a card that she thought was copied from one of the people now on an unplanned food trip and strolled into the lab, directly towards the work area holding Cephosage. She pulled out her phone and readied her camera. No one seemed to be around, but she quickly switched of the lights manually. Motion detectors would have done this in five minutes anyway and she couldn’t risk being seen.

The displays for Cephosage glowed across the lab, beckoning her forward …

(To be continued…)

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