I should have known there was something off about the advert. Volunteers wanted for a research facility not far from where I live, something about orgone energy research and a generous payout to compensate people for their time. Sure my friend Paul had already mentioned some shady goings-on there, but this was a guy who thought that conspiracy forums were a reliable source of information so I could ignore anything he said. It had been ages since I’d been able to afford a holiday and this sounded like a good way to have a few laughs and get paid for it. And just answering the ad didn’t commit me to anything, right?

The message I received back assured me that the privacy of both staff and volunteers was paramount. There was a short questionnaire, a non-disclosure agreement to sign and a medical form confirming I did not have any serious health issues; and then an appointment was sent to me along with a code which I was to save on my phone and present to the scanners when I arrived at the venue. My curiosity was well and truly piqued by now and backing out was no longer an option.

The building was some kind of futuristic design I’d never seen before, at odds with the rural location a couple of miles out of town. I wondered why I’d never heard of it before. It was a circular building that could almost have looked like a giant spaceship, except that that would have been ridiculous. 

I presented my phone to the camera at reception as per my instructions and the door opened. There didn’t seem to be any kind of public reception area but there were signposts to direct me to room 33, the room I had been told to report to. I followed the stairs down to the basement and along a short corridor, and once again presented my phone to the scanner outside room 33. I entered and heard a click as the door locked again behind me.

I found I was in a small changing room with a shower cubicle.

“Welcome,” a male electronic voice intoned from some concealed speakers. “Thank you for agreeing to participate in our research project. Your clothes and all personal belongings will be stored securely in this changing room while you undergo our tests. A bathrobe has been provided for your comfort. No personal items can be taken into the test area.”

I understood from this that I needed to undress, and only now did it occur to me that I’d signed up for a research project into orgone energy without having asked any questions. But curiosity has always been my undoing; and thinking about the money, I removed everything and reached for the bathrobe that hung on a hook in front of me. I found what looked like a bleeper device in one of the pockets.

“You must keep the alarm in your hand throughout the testing process,” the electronic voice informed me. “If you press the red button at any time the tests will stop immediately. Please speak to indicate you understand.”

I had heard of safewords before but this was ridiculous. I almost laughed.

“Please speak to indicate you understand,” the voice repeated.

“I understand.”

“Please go through the door in front of you into the test area.”

The test area turned out to be a windowless room containing a gynaecological chair, with some kind of scanning equipment suspended from the ceiling above it. In spite of the futuristic feel of the building itself, the chair seemed to be controlled by a relatively simple system of hydraulics comprising several metallic tubes underneath. This struck me as incongruous but it was so far from being the strangest thing about this appointment that I didn’t give it much thought. There was no-one else in sight but the lighting was dim so I couldn’t be sure.

“Remove your robe and seat yourself on the chair,” the voice instructed me. “Remember to keep the alarm in your hand at all times.”

I was starting to feel nervous now but I obeyed. I tried to ignore the faint humming sound in the room. Whatever material the gynaecological chair was made of it was more comfortable than I expected, and I allowed myself to relax with my arms and legs in the rests indicated, as the scanners above me started clicking and beeping.

For the next thirty minutes or so all the scanners did was move along the ceiling, beeping occasionally. It felt slightly intrusive that they were doing what seemed like a detailed scan of my naked body but there was no physical contact. I decided I might as well close my eyes and think about my next holiday while they got on with it. At least there were no more instructions from that creepy electronic voice to worry about.

I don’t know how long I lay there like that, but a sliding sensation around my wrists and ankles caused me to open my eyes abruptly. I hadn’t heard anyone enter or leave the room but somehow my wrists were now secured firmly in place with metal cuffs, and my ankles were likewise strapped down. Of their own accord, the armrests moved to pull my arms up over my head, and I felt my legs pulled apart so wide I started to panic. However, the chair seemed to know exactly when to stop before the sensation of body stress became actual pain.

“Do not be alarmed.” That creepy electronic voice again. “You still have the alarm in your hand and you can press the button at any time.” I moved my thumb over the device in my right hand and felt for the button, but something stopped me from pressing it.

“Do you wish to press the button?” the voice continued. “Silence will indicate consent to continue.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything any more than I could press that damn button, even though I was still pulling against the restraints as if I had any chance of escape.

“Good,” the electronic voice sounded amused. How could a robot voice do that?

The scanners above me started clicking and beeping again, but this time it was impossible for me to close my eyes or try to think about other things. I gave up struggling and lay there passively, wondering what would come next. 

A few moments later, a snaking sensation around my torso informed me that the tubes underneath the chair weren’t a hydraulic control system after all. Metal tentacles wrapped themselves around my body and explored, but they also held me firmly in place and made it impossible to squirm. I was starting to get very wet but there was nothing I could do about it except wait. I wondered if my semi-regular booty call friend would be available at short notice this evening.

A smaller tube worked its way downwards towards my clitoris and explored, never quite touching the spot but teasing. I took deep breaths and bit my lip, willing myself to endure for as long as I needed to. I had spent time alone putting off my own orgasm before, but only under my own control and this was very different.

A tentacle appeared before my eyes, this one with an attachment on the end of it. There was no mistaking the purpose of that attachment and it was as if the machine itself wanted me to see it before moving it downwards towards my wet and aching cunt. It probed at my opening for a while before slowly but insistently pushing its way inside. It was by no means the biggest I had ever had but it was relentlessly hard, thrusting deep inside and finding all the right places. I tried to relax into it and go with the rhythm until the attachment inside me expanded and pushed its way even further in.

I lost track of time as I was drilled by the machine, the tentacle inside me sometimes contracting and sometimes expanding again, drawing the juices out of me until I could no longer hold out and I surrendered to orgasm after orgasm. I was starting to wonder how much more I could take when the machine mercifully slowed down and contracted, withdrawing from me in stages. I felt some fluid gush inside me before the tentacle was completely out, but then I found that the restraints holding me in place were gone.

I had to get my breath back before I could get up and put the bathrobe back on, and my walk back to the dressing room was shaky. I was grateful for the shower cubicle and allowed warm water to soothe my sore muscles and jangled nerves.

When I was finally ready to leave, a taxi was already waiting for me outside. I was grateful that the driver wasn’t the talkative type.

Back at home, I found that only a couple of hours had passed. I received a notification that the money they had promised was being transferred to my bank account. The next morning there was another message informing me that I had been approved for the next round of testing, and even through my sore muscles there was a stirring of desire and I knew I would never be able to decline.