The Preparation Chamber, Chapter 4

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Ch. 4 – 

In the control room, Chapman looked up at the captive young college student as the machines began their work. He looked amazing up there on the cross, the technician thought as he adjusted one of the output dials. The 19 year old’s pale, slim body almost blended into the white spandex suit he wore, his mop of unruly dark blond hair spilling into his eyes as he began to sweat from exertion. The boy’s eyes were wide open and frantically searching for release, the hormones coursing through his veins sending him into a mix of panic, desperation, and the most intense sexual arousal he’d ever had in his young life. And given that he was essentially at the peak of his hormonal life cycle, well, that was saying something.

The control room door to the exterior corridor slid open, and a trim, middle-aged gentleman walked in. Expensive shoes, neatly pressed trousers, black polo shirt tucked in. The understated Patek-Philipe on his wrist completed the look – one that said “serious money,” but only to those who knew what they were looking at. 

“Hello, William,” he rumbled in a deep basso growl that didn’t match his wiry stature in the slightest. “Our new boy just getting started?” He stopped next to the seated technician and gazed up through the window at the panting, twisting, spread-eagled young twink.

“Hey, good afternoon Mr. St. John. Yep, we’ve designated this one Item 902. He’s only been in there for about 15 minutes or so. I just lit him up.”

A grin spread across St. John’s face. 

“Excellent,” he purred. “This one is going to be a special project, William. He was specifically requested by my client, and a premium was paid for an expedited process. I’m going to supervise his preparation personally.” 

Chapman turned in his chair to face the older man, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Expedited, sir? The process basically takes as long as it takes… it’s different for every subject, it’s not really something that can be… rushed, you know?” Chapman looked back at the struggling boy, the slick white spandex suit now soaked through with sweat and effectively becoming translucent. The boy began thrusting against the cup with what little movement he could afford, its emitters flashing a dull red glow repeatedly, stimulating his crotch with endless, merciless electromagnetic nerve induction. Lights flashed in the chamber and on the table’s panels as the boy’s grunts began filtering into the control room over the speakers.

“If we rush things, we risk damaging him, mentally and physically.”

St. John put a hand on the seated tech’s shoulder, smiling down at him coldly. 

“Don’t you worry about that, William,” he rumbled. “I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens. This boy’s young, healthy, and by our accounts, quite virile. His Kinsey score is four, which isn’t a bad starting point, but his Montauk-Cherohala sexuality score is practically maxed out at nine. The kid’s a walking boner, essentially. 

I don’t think it’ll be too hard to push him over into total sexual subservience.”

But Chapman wasn’t convinced.

“Sir… I developed this process,” he insisted, rising from the chair and walking over to one of the control podiums. “It works through very measured methods… it can’t be expedited!”

The boss’ grin froze on his face as he moved over to the podium and pushed the technician aside. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Chapman,” he hissed. “Observe.” 

With a hand resting on the console, St. John pressed a glowing green stud. In the chamber, the cross table came alive, with machinery in the chamber moving towards the captive boy. A mask-like halo flipped up from behind the head restraint, covering Ben’s face and head and locking them down to the padded table. It lit up immediately as its mind-control emitters began going to work on the captive boy’s brain. Two evil syringes appeared to his left, sliding into Ben’s torso and administering a potent cocktail of hypnotics and hallucinogens. Two more restraing panels rotated up from behind the cross and into place on Ben’s chest, holding him even more firmly to the table.

>Level Two engaged

Chapman stiffened as he stared into the chamber, the shock on his face apparent. “Sir, no! He’s only been in there for a few minutes! That’s just a fraction of the time necessary for that! You can’t just skip the Level One process!”

An oddly muffled sound began to build through the control room, building in pitch and intensity, an unfamiliar noise to the two men. They looked at each other in confusion for a moment, before realizing where it was coming from. Both turned to look up at the window into the chamber.

Behind the glass of the preparation chamber, the boy on the cross had gone completely rigid, every muscle locked and straining. The lights on the crotch cup flashed red as Ben’s back arched up off the table in a stiff rictus of overwhelming intensity. Inside the halo ring covering his head, Ben’s eyes went wide in abject terror as an agonized wail escaped his throat. Quivering in uncontrollable arousal, the boy desperately tried to wrench himself free from the table’s tight imprisonment. 

Slowly Chapman shook his head as he gazed upon the twitching, howling, tortured lad. 

“Good luck, kid,” he muttered under his breath. “Seems you’re gonna need it.”