                      ADVANCED BIOLOGY LAB

                               by

                          Linda Loring


        I work as a technician in a health research laboratory.
We end up handling some pretty scary stuff.  A lot of the work we
do has to do with AIDS, and we also have some defense contracts
involving research into ways of counteracting biological warfare.
All in all, we work with a good many substances no human should
come in contact with, or even take a chance on breathing.

        Substances like that are handled in a special section of
the laboratory.  No one is allowed in the room when it's in use.
Sealed containers are passed in through a sort of miniature air
lock, and once the inner door of the lock is opened, the
containers are opened and the contents moved around using special
mechanical arms.

        The mechanical arms are manipulated from a control room.
From the control room you can see into the lab through thick,
airtight windows.  You can't see into the control room from the
lab, ordinarily, because the laboratory area is brightly lit
while the control room is fairly dim.

        The whole set-up is amazingly high-tech.  The eight
mechanical arms can reach anywhere in the lab, and their "hands",
each with a "thumb" and two "fingers", have tremendous strength
but are also capable of precise movement, even in microscopic
dimensions.  Normally we manipulate the arms and their hands by
putting our own hands into special glove-like fixtures and moving
our own fingers the way we want their mechanical counterparts to
move.  Larger or smaller movements require separate controls, and
a whole sequence of movements can be programmed into the
computer, which then controls all movements.  We can interrupt
the computer's control if something unexpected happens,
reposition things manually, and tell the computer to pick up
right where it left off.

        There are six videotape cameras in the lab, and they can
be directed to cover any part of the room from almost any angle.
The special video recorders are in the control room, and when we
need to make a presentation to someone outside the lab, signals
from those recorders can be fed into a standard VCR and recorded
in full color onto regular videotape.

        All of this equipment is, as I said, normally used to
work with deadly viruses and other toxins.  But, as I recently
discovered, it can be put to other uses as well.

        The discovery took place late last Saturday night.  I'd
been working on an experiment using several laboratory rats.  It
wasn't my job to give them food and water, but the weekend staff
sometimes "forgets" to take care of the animals in the contagion
room.  My rats were already pretty weak, and if they went all
weekend without food and water, they'd probably be dead by Monday
morning, and I'd have to start the experiment over from the
beginning.

        I'd fretted about the rats all day, and finally, after
coming out of a late movie a little before midnight, I decided to
go over to the lab and check on them myself.  I pulled into the
parking lot behind the lab, noticing absently that there was
another car parked down at the end of the dark lot.  I did a
double take when I recognized the car - it was one of those
little Mazda two-seater jobs, and it belonged Kristin, a/k/a the
"ice queen".

        Kristin was the newest of the research biologists, having
come to work at the lab only two months earlier.  She was a real
whiz with the computer system that controlled the mechanical arms
in the contagion room, but that wasn't the attribute she was best
known for.  The severe clothes she wore couldn't hide the fact
that she was really stacked, and I had to admit that her pale
blonde hair and her face weren't bad either.  All of us females
in the lab, researchers and technicians alike, were jealous of
the way the men had drooled over her at first, but from what I'd
heard, none of them had been able to get to first base with her.
That was why some of them had begun referring to her as the "ice
queen".

        Usually when one of the women's cars stayed in the lot
all night one could infer that she was spending the night
elsewhere, after a successful date with one of the men who worked
in the lab.  That seemed unlikely, from what I knew of Kristin's
reputation, but I decided that her personal life wasn't any of my
business anyway, and went inside.

        The outer door of the building used a regular key, and
then I had to use first another key and then a specially coded
magnetic card to get into the secure area of the lab.  By the
time I'd made it through the last door I was aware that the
lights were on in the contagion room.  That didn't surprise me a
lot, because the weekend staff was often careless about the
lights, too.  Still, I was curious enough to slip into the
darkened control room in order to see, without being seen,
whether someone was in the C-Room, as we called it.

        Someone was there, all right, and the sight just about
blew my mind!  Kristin lay on her back on one of the work
counters, totally nude, her clothing in a pile on the floor.
That would have been astounding enough, but what made the scene
really incredible was that the "fingers" on one of the mechanical
arms were fondling one of her breasts while those on a second arm
were busy admidst the pale hair between her legs!  Incredulous at
what I was seeing, I sat down to watch.

        The computer beside me was on and the screen indicated
that it was in the "engaged" mode, which meant it was controlling
the mechanical devices in the C-Room.  Kristin had obviously done
a little extra-curricular programming, and from what I could tell
she seemed to have done a very good job!  I couldn't hear
anything from the next room, but Kristin's head and body were in
constant motion as the mechanical digits caressed first one
breast and then the other, pulled gently at her engorged nipples,
and glided easily in and out of the dark slit that was only half-
hidden by her silky pubic hair.

        I stood up quietly and slipped a blank tape into the VCR.
I didn't know what I might do with the tape, but the way my own
juices were starting to flow, I suspected that I was going to
want to watch this scene again - in living color, no less!  It
was while I was loading the tape that I noticed a third
mechanical arm.  It was motionless now, but Kristin plainly
didn't expect it to remain so, because its padded fingers were
clamped around the base of the largest dildo I'd ever seen!

        For some reason the sight of that dildo really pissed me
off.  I can't explain exactly why it bothered me so much, but
here was a woman with the most perfect body I'd ever seen, or
even imagined, who could have any man she even looked at.  But
instead of taking any of the offers she'd had, she constructed
her perfect mechanical lover, and now she was waiting for it to
fuck her!  If she were really ugly, maybe I could accept what she
was doing.  For Kristin to do it, though, seemed like a gesture
of contempt for the rest of us, who had to settle for mortal
lovers and their fragile egos, their clumsy foreplay, their
sweaty bodies and their ordinary-sized cocks that so often had to
be coaxed laboriously to life.

        I decided to retaliate.  Without any definite plan in
mind, I switched on the video monitor in the control room, so I
could see and hear what was being recorded on the video tape, and
disengaged the computer.  Kristin looked surprised as the magic
fingers stopped their kneading and probing, and then astonished
as the hand that had been toying with her pussy moved up to her
waist.

        Astonishment gave way to alarm as I used the arm to roll
her onto her stomach.  She began to struggle, making incoherent
sounds, but I pushed two of the mechanical hands into the small
of her back to hold her in place on the flat counter.  I hadn't
decided what to do next, but the sight of her perfect ass,
wiggling as she tried vainly to get her knees under her, gave me
an idea.

        I spread the arms slightly and opened their fingers to
grip Kristin firmly on either side of her narrow waist.  With
their immense strength the mechanical arms had no trouble lifting
her off the counter.  I swung her into the middle of the room,
where she hung suspended by her middle about five feet off the
floor, head down, boobs jutting, legs kicking and arms flailing
helplessly.  "Stop it", she yelled, "whoever you are!  Put me
down, now!"

        I offered no response as my eyes searched the C-Room for
a suitable object.  I found a perfect one on another work
counter - a 50-centimeter scale.  It was like a ruler except that
it was made out of thick, clear plastic, twenty inches long, two
inches wide and about a quarter of an inch thick.

        I activated the third arm - the one holding the
dildo - and Kristin, looking upside down between her legs, must
have seen it move, because she started screaming and kicking
wildly.  "No!  Don't you dare touch me with that!", she shrieked.
She relaxed a little when she realized the arm was moving past
her.  I fully intended to make use of the dildo, but not just
yet.

        Opening the mechanical fingers, I dropped the dildo on
the counter and picked up the plastic scale.  It took a little
maneuvering to get the hand to hold the scale properly, clutching
it near the end and locking the fingers so that a minor flick of
the mechanical "wrist" imparted considerable speed and momentum
to the heavy scale.  Then I moved the arm into position behind
and slightly to the side of Kristin's creamy white ass.

        All I knew about spanking I'd learned as a child, bent
over the edge of the kitchen table while my mother applied a
yardstick to the seat of my jeans or, on a few occasions, to my
bared bottom.  That had taught me that spankings were both
painful and humiliating, and those were precisely the sensations
I wanted the ice queen to experience.

        I gave the mechanical wrist an experimental flick, and
was rewarded with a sharp yelp of pain through the control room
speaker.  The plastic scale had landed on the left cheek of
Kristin's ass, but it hadn't bounced away as I thought it would
have if I'd been holding the scale in my own hand.  I tried a
lighter touch, but it was evidently too light, because Kristin
didn't make a sound.

        In a matter of minutes, though, I became quite adept, if
I say so myself.  Each swing of the makeshift paddle resulted in
a satisfying yell from Kristin and left another pink blotch on
the silky skin of her bottom.  I picked up the tempo as I became
more confident, and let the scale wander over the backs of her
thighs as well as her ass.  In almost no time the ice queen was
sobbing and begging for the paddling to stop.  She hadn't been
spanked as a child, I guessed, or she'd have more endurance.

        I responded to her pleas with a blistering flurry of
smacks that really covered the target area and had Kristin
kicking and screaming.  Any effort she might have made earlier to
keep her legs closed was abandoned, and the video camera had
perfect view of her wet beaver - though it couldn't have been as
wet as mine was!

        Then I moved the arm over to the other work surface and
laid the scale carefully on the edge of the counter.  I picked up
the gross-looking dildo and began moving the arm back toward
Kristin.  She saw it coming and began shrieking in protest again.

        I decided that I enjoyed being the spanker instead of the
spankee enough that I could let Kristin decide when she preferred
the dildo to the paddle.  I dropped the dildo, picked up the
plastic scale, and resumed my attack on that perfectly shaped
ass.

        By that time I was becoming a real virtuoso, and the
feeling between my legs was leading me to think that I should
take up bare-bottom spanking as a serious hobby, if not a full-
time profession.  Kristin yelled and begged as I peppered her
immobilized butt and flailing thighs with dozens of stinging
blows.

        Once her ass and the backs of her thighs had turned a
nearly uniform shade of crimson, I stopped the spanking and
exchanged the scale for the dildo again.  Again Kristin protested
when she the saw the mechanical fingers grasp the plastic cock,
but when I put it down and moved toward the scale, she quickly
said "No, no more of that, don't hit me any more!"  She said
nothing as I moved the dildo slowly toward her.

        The camera had a clear view of Kristin's pussy but I
didn't, so I halted the arm carrying the dildo a couple of feet
away from her, and used the other robot arms to turn her until
she was facing almost directly away from me.  Then I had to move
the camera so that it had essentially the same view I did, and
zoomed it to provide a close-up shot.

        I wondered suddenly, as I swung the third arm around and
thrust the flesh-colored dildo toward Kristin's glistening
cuntlips, if this was how a man felt as he prepared to shove his
dick into a woman's waiting pussy.  Too bad, I thought, that the
mechanical appendages had no nerves; it would have been a blast
to feel what a man feels at the moment of entry.

        Kristin groaned as I touched the tip of the dildo against
the outer lips of her pussy.  I increased the pressure, watching
in fascination as her clitoris flattened and her lips spread to
surround the enormous phallus.  I pushed harder, and Kristin gave
a sharp cry as two inches of the ribbed dildo sank out of sight.
By that time, I was sure, the latex-covered plastic was well into
her vagina, and I must have the angle about right or she'd be
screaming her head off.  My own pussy convulsed with envy as I
gave the control a shove and buried another seven inches of
artificial cock in the ice queen.  The moan that came through the
speaker didn't sound much like pain.

        I pulled the dildo back several inches and pushed it in
again.  The movement required almost no effort, and I marveled at
how quickly Kristin had adapted to an object of that size.  I
started stroking in and out, wishing again that the dildo had
nerves and could somehow transmit to me the sensations it was
feeling.  I wondered if any man had ever been inside the ice
queen to feel those sensations.

        That thought resurrected some of my earlier anger, and I
decided that I'd be damned if I was going to stand there fucking
some woman who thought she was too good to get screwed by a flesh
and blood man - especially when I had a nice vibrator at home
that I'd been neglecting lately.  I stopped thrusting with the
dildo, which provoked little whimpers from my colleague in the
next room, and quickly programmed the computer to continue with a
four-inch back-and-forth stroke, along the same axis, for another
fifteen minutes, then to withdraw the third arm, lower the other
two near the floor, and separate them.

        Fifteen minutes would be plenty of time for the ice queen
to get her rocks off a time or ten, and then to start imagining
the scene the next morning when the weekend crew came in and
found her suspended naked and being humped continuously by
computer-controlled device that only she knew how to program.  It
would also give me plenty of time to get out of the building and
several miles away before a much-relieved biologist could start
trying to identify her unknown tormentor.

        I let the VCR record the first gasps of ecstasy, then
popped the tape out and slipped it into my purse.  I left the
recorder on, so Kristin would know she'd been on candid camera,
and hurried out to my car.  I could check on my mice the next
day.

        Kristin cleaned up well; there was no sign of her
nighttime adventure when I went by the lab about noon the next
day, although I did notice that the plastic scale was nowhere to
be found.  My mice had been fed and watered, and were doing as
well as could be expected, considering the stuff I'd injected
into them.

        The first item on the agenda at our staff meeting on
Monday morning was an announcement that Kristin had resigned.  No
one knew just why, but the director wished her well, in absentia,
in whatever her new endeavors might be.  And I've decided to
learn everything there is to know about programming the computer
that controls the mechanical arms in the C-Room.  The vibrator
was comforting, but I've thought of some experiments I might like
to conduct here, late some Saturday night.
