Entry tags:
obviously
WHO: Korra and Hei
WHAT: Korra and Hei wake up trapped in separate rooms in a testing facility. (NSFW)
[Deep within the Aperture facilities is a division which everyone knows about yet aren't really sure exists. It's run by a fork of the GLaDOS AI known as the "G-spot."
The nature of its testing imperative should be obvious.
What isn't obvious to Korra when she wakes up is why she's here. Also where she is. And why her vagina feels exposed even though she's wearing weird metal underwear under her regular clothes.
G-spot is still repairing her audio systems after GLaDOS' little fiasco.]
Hello? Hello?! [Korra is sorely tempted to start throwing her bending around and kick up a storm, but she doesn't want to waste her energy until her captor shows his face. (Obviously she doesn't realize her captor is a computer. She also doesn't realize that one of the walls is a one-way window, allowing whoever's in the other room to see her without her seeing them.)]
WHAT: Korra and Hei wake up trapped in separate rooms in a testing facility. (NSFW)
[Deep within the Aperture facilities is a division which everyone knows about yet aren't really sure exists. It's run by a fork of the GLaDOS AI known as the "G-spot."
The nature of its testing imperative should be obvious.
What isn't obvious to Korra when she wakes up is why she's here. Also where she is. And why her vagina feels exposed even though she's wearing weird metal underwear under her regular clothes.
G-spot is still repairing her audio systems after GLaDOS' little fiasco.]
Hello? Hello?! [Korra is sorely tempted to start throwing her bending around and kick up a storm, but she doesn't want to waste her energy until her captor shows his face. (Obviously she doesn't realize her captor is a computer. She also doesn't realize that one of the walls is a one-way window, allowing whoever's in the other room to see her without her seeing them.)]
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There's more metal behind it.
She keeps hurling metal until her limbs feel like jelly and she collapses on the bed. She throws off her jacket in a fit of anger (also, one should never bend metal in a warm room while dressed for the arctic). Panting, she sprawls back -- and finds that penis right next to her cheek.
Why is it warm?]
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[ Not that it matters. Her efforts yield no results. Whatever these cells are composed of, it is near-impenetrable. He can't glimpse any wires or electric sockets, either. So much for attempting to short-circuit the security system, if all else fails. ]
[ He's going through a list of contingency plans -- weighing pros and cons -- when he jerks at the distinct sensation of something silky-hot brushing his penis, swaddled in the strange metal underwear. Automatically, Hei glances down, gingerly tugging back his trouser's waistband as if to check. Nothing there. ]
[ Then he glances up and notices the girl sprawled across the bed. Her cheek millimeters from the dummy's dick. He watches the languid rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. With each exhale, it's as if the air is a ticklish rush across his own skin. ]
[ Suspicion wars with rationality: his thoughts are like rusty nails skittering in his skull. When the most obvious answer presents itself -- that his dick has somehow been supplanted on that dummy, the same way the girl's fleshy pink bits are stuck on the doll in his cell -- Hei nearly chokes on fast-bubbling hilarity. ]
[ That's ridiculous. There's no way ... ]
[ The girl lets off a breath -- and Hei catches himself mid-shiver. The sensation is a hot feathery arc across his groin; in the metal underwear, his cock twitches, a dull, drunken interest. ]
[ Shit. Shit. ]
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She bites her lip. The whole situation feels surreal. She can't even muster the proper amount of anger/fear. Instead, she just feels like...maybe this is a chance to do the things she never could before. None of this is real, after all. So maybe it doesn't matter what she does.
Hesitantly, she reaches out...and pokes the mostly flaccid penis with her finger.]
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[ The rest of his brain, always the tactician, concentrates on how best to discourage the girl from handling the penis. Handling him. A sense of fury and unwanted violation is bubbling up; the idea of that vulnerable dangly bit in a stranger's grasp -- literally! -- is tantamount to a knife pressed to the jugular. ]
[ Scowling, he raps the window -- hard -- with his knuckles, trying to get her attention. If he can't -- if the glass is too thick -- well. His gaze drifts toward the bed. To the female dummy with its live, curly-crowned pudenda. ]
[ He'd rather not touch it if he can help it. But if he can't -- ]
[ Well. There's a reason negative reinforcement is so effective. ]
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[ Meanwhile, in the cell, Hei's breath is caged in his throat, his hips jerking forward before he can stop himself. God -- what is wrong with him? He's usually better at forcing his unruly flesh into submission. Especially in such ghoulish, exploitative circumstances. He bangs around against the window, even as the girl keeps at her attentions, oblivious, infuriating. On her face is an expression of strange, intent curiosity, a guilty-happy childlike wish for a desired yet unknown outcome. The lips parted, blue eyes half-closed. ]
[ Distantly, Hei wonders if she's ever gotten her hands on an actual cock before. Her efforts aren't teasing or businesslike. More the shy explorations of a little girl with a new toy. ]
[ Except he's not a fucking toy. ]
[ Hastily, his pulse a jumping, quivering network all through him, Hei approaches the bed. Leaning over the dummy, with its transplanted vagina, he grabs a fistful of the springy pubic hair. Tugs, not with force but with clear warning. A signal to make her stop. ]
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She tries, without much success, to adjust the underwear so she doesn't get any more uncomfortable tugs, and turns her attention back to the penis. She's pretty sure the penis is her ticket out of here. This place is about the sexy side of science, right?]
If I get this thing off ["make it come", she means, and speaks loudly, clearly addressing the voice] you'll let me out of here.
[Still no answer, but Korra doesn't know what other options she has. She can't break out. She takes a deep breath and starts stroking it again, not realizing her grip is too soft for any kind of satisfaction.]
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[ Hei doesn't know how much more of this he can stand -- not that there seems anything to do but stand it. No way out of this cage. In other circumstances, if he knew the girl weren't an enemy, if she was someone he'd met at a bar, in a crowded pub, the scenario would be almost pleasant -- but this puppetry makes him hate it. He's half-tempted to throw a close-fisted punch -- not hard but solid -- against that fluffy little motte of hers. But she's not a target, and there's no trusting his own strength. ]
[ Do it anyway. The sly, dark-winged thought batters at his brain. The Reaper -- at his cruelest and most pragmatic. Hard enough to knock her unconscious. Then focus on escaping this box. ]
[ Forcibly, he shakes the temptation off. He's not damaging a non-principle. Particularly when she's barely a threat, with no clue what she's doing. It's not her fault he's in this mess. But ... she could be the key to escaping. Or, if not her, then the plump pinkish part of her that is fixed between the dummy's legs. ]
[ His breath hisses between his clenched teeth. Hard to think straight when her hand is wandering shyly across his disembodied length, which pulses with a stoppered urgency. He wants to shout Stop. Or maybe Harder. Hard to tell, especially when his mind is blurring the two words together. Blurring necessity versus indulgence with the mad relish of a wizard concocting a poisonous brew. ]
[ Steeling himself, he reaches out. Starfishes his palm across the chubby folds of vulva. The curls are a warm crinkle against his palm; she is faintly damp. Just default slick, not arousal, he assumes. Ignoring the clit for the moment, he strokes his thumb across the soft seam of the lips. Probes lightly between them, tracing circles -- out, not in, an experimental rhythm. ]
[ Meanwhile, his gaze stays fixed on the window. Curious to see how the girl reacts. ]
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STOP IT! WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING, STOP!
[Whatever brought her here must be doing something to her mind.]
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[ Something churns in his gut; it makes him feel restless and unsettled and vaguely guilty. He forces the weird sensations aside. Tells himself he's accomplished his intended goal. It's a relief not to be handled by strange little paws anymore. His dick, nowhere near as smart, simply bobs in the cool air, a sizzling ache of frustration, a tremor of urgency. He ignores it -- the way he's learnt to ignore countless shades of discomfort in his body. ]
[ Maybe if the two of them remain uncooperative, their captors will release them from the cells. Most likely to kill them -- but at least there will be movement. And movement creates opportunities. ]
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Even as she thinks, her gaze is drawn to that weird, almost living penis. And she notices something she hadn't considered before: the dummy is also wearing metal underwear. A quick peek in her pants determines it's the same underwear she's wearing. The idea of portals is too alien for her even to imagine, but it occurs to her that if she can figure out how to get the metal underwear off of the dummy, maybe she can get it off herself as well. So she kneels down next to the bed and carefully holds the penis away so she can get a better look at the underwear itself.]
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[ Then he feels the girl's coasting hand, warming skin, setting atoms jostling. The sensation is a cool tremor fluttering beneath his skin; in the other cell, the darkish cap of his erection goes all slick, a clear bead of pre-come oozing from the eye. ]
[ Damn it. ]
[ Hei twitches, grabbing a fistful of the pubic hair on the dummy's vagina on instinct. He tugs sharper this time -- a warning for her to knock it off. If she keeps this up, he's not going to be able to think straight for much longer. ]
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For the record, there is NOTHING sexy about pulling my pubic hair. OR SCIENTIFIC.
[She still hasn't made the connection between touching the dick and the tugs on her pubic hair, so she goes right back to moving the penis so that she can better see the underwear. Not that she's managed to find anything useful yet.]
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[ The fucking boulder has no more idea you are there than ... than a damn inanimate rock. ]
[ Which is exactly what his dick feels like. The ache spreads through his disembodied balls -- high and tight with their load. Heat crackles through the rest of his body, trapped in the other cell, until it feels like his bones will melt. To his utter fury and defeat, he feels his hips stirring restlessly, as if struggling to gain friction, pressure, while the damn girl handles him with her mindless indifference. Detachedly, he regards his dick, glistening and jerky and purplish, and knows he's at the threshold of orgasm already. ]
[ Teetering at the edge, then abruptly hurtling toward it, splattering the girl's hand with rich, sticky white. ]
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Still, this could be a good thing. She looks hopefully at the door, which she thought might open if she got the penis off.
It did (in both rooms)... But there's a second door behind it.]
Oh come on. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?!?
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[ And really the stroke victim has it all over him, because at least that idiot is nothing more than paralyzed and mute, flat on his back in bed, utterly hopeless and robbed of all dignity, sure -- but still able to look down the cleavage of any pretty nurse that might lean over and plump his pillows. Whereas he feels forced to ride shotgun, straitjacketed and gagged, while his body -- his dick --is jigged about by some stupid teengirl. ]
[ Catching his breath, he watches her scowl and sputter, telegraphing disgust. Mutual, he thinks acidly -- then hears a distant scrape. Almost like a lock unclicking itself. ]
[ Eyes narrowed, Hei focuses on the door. Maybe the sickos watching have opened it? Maybe the stupid experiment is over? Cautiously, he approaches the door. It opens easily enough -- only to disclose a second behind it. Irritated, Hei tries the handle, a quiet electric surge humming beneath his skin, ready to divert the flow of any potential shock that the door might emit. ]
[ He's prepared to fry the thing off its hinges if that means escaping. ]
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To help facilitate your testing experience, please enjoy this complimentary soundtrack.
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[ Now they're trying to drive him insane with schmaltzy music. ]
[ Teeth gritted, Hei glares at the general direction of the noise with manifest disapproval. Facilitate your testing experience. Which means it's not over yet. Impatience crashes through him; he narrowly avoids attempting to kick a dent right into the door. ]
[ Instead, his tone flat and seemingly resigned, ]
So what's next?
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But G-spot runs tests, not lessons. The music is the only hint it plans on giving.
In the meantime, Korra has yanked off her pants and is doing her damnedest to get the weird metal underwear off. It may not help her problem with the door, but at least she won't be vulnerable anymore to that stupid invisible hand.]
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[ Is that what they're after -- whoever is monitoring this depraved experiment? A mutual masturbation session caught in real-time? ]
[ Well -- forget it. He's learnt, over the years, to fine-tune his particular brand of selfishness. It extends to the bedroom; since that fiasco with Amber, he's been driven primarily by his own satisfaction. He uses sex as a tool on the job, a way to lure marks into a false sense of intimacy -- but as a purely therapeutic way to anesthetize himself off-duty. Once the buzz fades, so does his interest. ]
[ This doesn't even qualify as sex. It's a comedy of horrors. ]
[ He glances back at the window to remind himself that nothing is going to happen, and that nothing has changed. The kid isn't his type anyway. Practically a baby. He squints at the sight of her, stripped from waist-down, showing sturdy columns of legs as she tries to wiggle out of the metal underwear. Well, she's not easily deterred, he'll give her that. ]
[ Out loud, his voice tipped with ice, ]
I'm not fondling [ and terrifying ] a teenager so you can get your rocks off.
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[ Doesn't matter. ]
[ He's prepared to stay perfectly still -- perfectly useless -- for as long as it is possible. Waltzing through his mind's endless hallways, into room after room of heaped memories, snatches of sensations, faces and flavors and fights. The blue room with its phosphorescent lilies shaped like Pai's fingers. The hallroom of the dancing fireflies that remind him of starry nights in South America. The room of masks where the light from an invisible sun turns spider webs of perfect lies to gold. Familiar rooms. Rooms filled with loveliness. But also rooms smelling of decay and malaise. Tiny rooms where the walls are damp and diseased with festering traumas; where, if he stretches out his mind's hand, he can touch the unblinking eyelids growing from the ceiling: eyes whose scythe-cold gaze follow him through a tilting labyrinth of images and thoughts. ]
[ You're wasting time, the eyes warn him. Just knock the girl out. Concentrate on escaping. ]
[ He shakes the suggestion off. It is expedient, as always -- but distinctly distasteful. Since becoming a Contractor, once solid illusions and inhibitions have died almost daily, and just when he's imagined nearly all of them are extinct, a few more are shot down. But there has to be somewhere he draws the line. ]
[ He isn't sure how long he stays still. It feels in his bones like a full day; realistically, it must've been a few hours. ]
[ Cracking an eye open, he gazes at the window. What is the girl up to now? ]
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Fact: She is in a creepy place obsessed with sex.
Fact: Bending her way of here didn't work.
Fact: That first door opened because she made the penis come.
So maybe she just needs to do it again? Korra sighs and opens her eyes. What other choice does she have? Standing up, she heads back over to the flaccid, sticky penis.
Ugh.]
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[ Which is all logical and sensible -- as much as anything so insane can be -- but. ]
[ It isn't happening. He's already made up his mind. ]
[ He still doesn't want her touching him. His overstymmied flesh will be too sensitive for her clumsy handling. If anything, he's drifted to that stage after orgasm where he just wants a drunken-dreamy nap and a big bowl of fried rice afterward. Neither of which are available. ]
[ Muttering a curse, he slinks into motion by pure reflex. Before she can get a hold of his dick -- flopping pathetically across the dummy's thigh, the tip glistening with dried spunk -- he swats his hand, open-palmed, at the vagina on his own dummy. Not too brutal, but hard enough to get the message across. ]
[ Knock it off. ]
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JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME.
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1/2
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/leaves u a pre-flight tag chuuuu
/kissus
u////u
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