The Spy Rider

I must have known something was amiss even before I woke up. I don't even remember sitting up, but I can sense that she is there staring at me. Sure enough, when I turn I see her sitting on the other side of the sound proof glass wall. Her eyes are dead and her face expressionless. Immediately, I hate her.

I am surprised that my reaction is so strong and so singular. After all, I haven't seen another human being in almost two years. I would have thought that I would welcome companionship (if you could call it that). Instead, I only feel a sense of invasion. This woman is cutting in on my own solitariness. Her presence is not just sullying my view. It feels like an attack on my psyche.

I stare back at her. I want to taunt her with lewd gestures, but for some reason I am afraid that would give away whatever power I might hold. Instead, I return her expressionless glare, daring her to move first by focusing directly on her eyes.

Obviously, she is just like me - an inmate participating in the same experimental rehabilitation program. She has big brown eyes, high cheek bones and full lips. Her head, of course, is bald. We are allowed no hair during the course of our confinement. And she is as naked as I - her curves would have been attractive perhaps in a different circumstance. For now, though, to me, she is ugly. We could have been twins, I suppose.

I simply hate her.

After a moment, I let my eyes wander over to the large countdown displayed over her cell door. Six days and some hours. The cunt will be freed exactly one day before me.

I stand up from my bed and walk over to my sink where I look at my face in a mirror. In the reflection I can see her still sitting and staring into my cell.

I can't believe that after two years my jailers would put another person into the adjoining cell. Maybe this is to prepare me for the real world again. After all, there was some point in my incarceration, long ago, when I was desperate for another human to be placed in that cell. I had imagined that if there was someone there we would have developed some form of sign language or entertained one another somehow. But now, with this scag... I have no desire to interact with her.

My cell is very plain. Everything is a dull white color, the floor, the sink, the padding on the shelf that I use as a bed. There are no hard corners anywhere - all surfaces are a little flexible. I suppose they don't want me to bang my head on something strong enough to kill myself. They need not worry about me though. I have no desire to die. There are too many things waiting for me outside this rotting hole. That's the reason why I volunteered for this program - to get back into the world as fast as possible where my beloved Mistress is waiting for me.

There are two doors in my cell on opposite walls. The door underneath the orange flickering lights of my countdown clock has not been opened since I was locked inside so long ago. The second door opens occasionally by some automated system and gives me access to a shower and my "conditioning" room - at least that is my name for it.

I lower my head toward the sink until I trip a sensor. A stream of water arcs from a spigot and I drink. When I straighten up, I notice that the intruder has moved. She is now laying on her shelf, her hands folded behind her head, staring at the ceiling. I almost envy her. I know every inconsistency of that ceiling. I even know how many black dots there are up in the paneling. I count them often to see if the number ever changes. It doesn't. This intruder now has an entirely new ceiling to explore. I almost wish that they had moved me into her adjoining cell.

The light next to the food nozzle is not illuminated. I'm not hungry, but eating is doing something. And at the moment, I feel a great need to do... something. Anything to take my mind off the intrusive cunt.

"Cunt!" I say loudly. I know that there is no way she can hear me. No sounds enter or escape these cells. "That's my name for you! Cunt!"

Generally, when I become as restless as I currently feel, there is one thing that I can do that never really seems to grow old. Masturbate.

Indeed over the course of two years, I have made sure that I masturbated in every single square foot of my cell. I have divided the room into coordinates based on the length of my foot. Every time I masturbate, I move to a new coordinate and sit or stand or lie and frig myself off. After I have achieved an orgasm, I rate it, and over time I have developed a ranked list of locations and orientations where I'm most likely to have a more satisfactory orgasm. But now... Cunt is watching.

I am not under any illusion that my previous indulgences were not viewed. I'm certain that there are cameras all over this cell watching my every naked gyration. I'm certain that behind every camera there is some security employee jacking off watching my display. But still, with Cunt in the adjoining cell, I feel repressed. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of watching me.

Eventually, I return to my shelf and lie staring at my countdown clock. Seven fucking days, fourteen fucking hours, thirty-two fucking minutes and twenty-six god-forsaken, fucking seconds.


---

It is not too long after lying down that I hear a soft tone and the sound of a door opening. Thank god! I quickly stand up and walk through the second door of my cell that leads to the shower and the "conditioning" room.

No one ever told me what to do. I haven't heard another voice since my internment. I have not seen any written word either. You just learn the routines over time. There are no penalties if you don't do something correctly (if there even IS a correct way of doing things). You just learn.

Early on, when the door would open, I wouldn't go through. I thought I was rebelling somehow. My jailers though didn't seem to care. The open door would simply sit there, taunting me. Over time, I slowly gave up my rebelliousness since it seemed like a fairly useless attitude. Now, I jump at the chance to visit the second room. Once I have done whatever it is that my jailers want me to do and return to my cell, the door closes again until the next time.

Of course, I've counted all the dots on the ceiling and masturbated over the entire surface of that room as well.

I am particularly happy for the chance to go in there today. It provides me an escape from Cunt. There is no sound proof glass wall in this room. It is completely private.

I start from a corner and use my feet to pace out to one of my favorite places in the room near the foot of the conditioning shell and lie down on the floor with a sigh. I flex all my muscles and relax them. Then I begin to tickle myself until goose bumps appear like schools of fish swirling about my skin. I pinch my nipple and feel its firmness under the palm of my hand. I am no longer in prison, but free, and the sun is shining on me as I lay on a bed of soft moss by a cool pool. The air is full of the scent of honeysuckle. I slide my hand between my legs and softly stroke the lips of my sex with each finger in turn. I group my fingers together and jiggle my clit clockwise and then counter clockwise. I systematically begin to push my fingers into me until I feel lubrication. I begin to dream of my Mistress. She walks down from the trees and slowly lets her dress drop off her shoulders into the dirt. She kneels down next to me. I begin to dream of making love.

I am breathing heavily and I can feel the approach of an orgasm. I lift my legs off the floor and roll them over me, doubling myself up, letting my knees rest on the cold floor on each side of my head. My cunt is like a cauldron twitching above my head. I look up between my breasts at my hairless vagina. I watch my body shake and the muscles of my sex clench, gaping for my fingers as they lightly pull at my clit. I reach around my hip with my right arm and begin to tease fingers into my vagina from behind, occasionally tickling my anus with a thumb.

Mistress' face appears over my sex. She is sucking on something. A crystal dildo slides out of her mouth and she begins to push it in and out of me. Oh, fuck me, Mistress!! A flock of birds are interrupted somewhere in the forest nearby and their rush to take flight becomes deafening and leaves, soft and green, fall to the forest floor around my quivering thighs.

---

There is a tube in this room. When you stand in it the tube slides up around you and a series of jets begin to spray you with water and soap. Actually, there must be something more. This, certainly, is the mechanism that has rendered me hairless for these two years. I (and Cunt as well I suppose) don't even have eyelashes. I assume my hair will grow out again after I am free.

After a thorough washing (which is actually quite invigorating), jets of air are applied and by the time the tube slides down again I am perfectly dry.

After my shower there is a tone by the conditioning shell and the top surface pops up a couple of inches.

Initially, I was terrified of the conditioning shell. You have to lay inside the shell with arms and legs positioned in isolating cavities. Devices are shoved in various orifices - mouth, sex, and ass - to maintain all bodily inputs and outputs. The top of the shell then presses down on you and seals in place leaving you immobile and blind.

I thought that this was the device that they were going to use to rehabilitate (er... brainwash) me. But, ha ha! the joke is on them. I am guilty of murder and even after two years of lying in the shell, I still feel no remorse. In fact, I'm certain that I would do it again if my Mistress asked me. I would have no qualms at all. So, maybe their equipment is simply broken and no one has realized it.

Actually, a session in the shell is quite pleasant. Your body becomes numb, your brain detaches. It's like an out-of-body experience. I often have vivid and intense dreams about flying and exploring. Truth be told, it feels more free than even the real world outside of my cell.

Sometimes a session in the shell will last a couple of hours, sometimes days. I hope that this one will last a long time - anything to avoid Cunt's company.

I climb inside the shell (with all orifices appropriately filled) and as the top is lowering I notice a new addition to the inside of the shell. Circular rubber tubes begin to press into the flesh around my eyes. I stare into the blackness of the tubes as the familiar clicks sound around the shell locking me in.

I relax and might have drifted off for a while. Time is meaningless in the shell. Who knows how long I have been laying here, numb? Suddenly, though, I begin to feel a tickle across my torso. I can feel goose bumps crop up on my flesh and swirl around. I jerk suddenly when I feel something tweak my nipple. I feel a hand rest upon my breast. It must be my own hand because I can feel a hard nipple pressing into my palm. Maybe part of the shell has popped open and I am masturbating myself reflexively. I smile and settle back. This is a new sensation. I am starved for new sensations.

Suddenly, there is a flicker in front of my eyes. Slowly the flickering settles and I realize that I am looking into my empty cell. My view is focused on my countdown clock - the seconds falling off like water leaking from a faucet. My view changes suddenly. I am looking through the sound proof glass wall at Cunt's countdown clock. There is another shift of perspective. I am watching Cunt standing in the middle of her cell. Her right hand is cupping her left breast. I feel a light touch slide down my abdomen and press against my sex.

Oh, my god! I am somehow feeling the things that Cunt is feeling! She is touching herself, but somehow I am feeling her sensations. If I concentrate on my arms or legs, I can sense that they are still captured in the cavities of the shell, mostly numb and immobile. However, at the same time I can feel myself touching myself. Or, apparently, to be more accurate, I can feel Cunt touching herself.

Her touch is light. She grazes across the lips of her sex. And I feel it! My arousal blossoms quickly. After two years of being the sole dictator of my physical intimacies, suddenly, I am being manipulated by someone else. Rationally, I feel a bit of struggle within me to give up control so easily like this, but my rationality is quickly eclipsed by the sensation.

Cunt is good! No doubt she has spent her time in prison practicing as much as I have. She takes her time rallying her arousal. I can see her face. Her eyes are closed and her mouth slips open a bit. She is losing herself in the sensations, and as I watch and feel her caresses I find that I am quickly swept up and carried along as well.

I feel my knees start to buckle a little. Except, not my knees. Cunt's knees. With her fingers still buried within the folds of her sex, she staggers to the sink. She lifts her leg over the spigot and triggers the water to arc through the air. I begin to laugh silently in my shell as I feel the stream land on my clit. Such a creative little slut, this cunt!

I watch as she shifts her hips up towards her hand. I feel the pressure of teasing fingers increase across my sex, slipping through the folds of my labia. She arches her back a bit and shifts her hips around seeking the best placement for the stream of water. I feel the thrill of arousal spark along my own spine. I am a doll, a marionette. I'm watching myself masturbating and loving every touch.

Her stomach muscles flex and the rhythm of her manipulations increase. I feel the tension build through my own torso. Her head falls back and her mouth opens more, a distressed look upon her face. She's about to go over the edge. I'm about to go over the edge. Oh, god!

With a great thrust of her hips she leans further back and shifts around under the involuntary flexing of muscles as an orgasm takes her. Her face is red, her eyes tightly closed. She has gone before me. I feel her response, although it is stunted.

"Don't stop, Cunt! Use your fingers a little more! Get back into the stream of water!"

I'm not quite there. Please! A little more.

Cunt has turned off the water and has staggered across the cell, still dripping wet, and collapsed onto her bed shelf. She is laying still as the unrequited arousal I feel slowly, painfully settles. My sense of love for my companion quickly reverts to pure hatred.

I know it's unfair for me to hate her so much. I assume that she doesn't even know that I can feel her feelings. Still. Two years of isolation will generate a large cavity of hatred. So, it's okay that I hate her. It doesn't hurt anyone, if I hate her. And I do! I hate her! How could she leave me hanging like this?

The image of Cunt flickers off. After a bit of time, the shell clicks and pops open. I disconnect myself and climb out. I'm torn by a desire to find a spot in privacy and masturbate and a desire to go back into my cell if just to intrude upon Cunt's post orgasmic bliss.

Indeed, I walk quickly through the open door which slides closed quietly behind me. Cunt is lying on her shelf. Her chest is rising and falling slowly and deeply. Asleep!

I sit on my shelf and watch her sleep for a while. I began to wonder how I could feel her touch. It must have been the shell that transmitted the feelings to me. Certainly, she cannot feel things that I do... unless, of course, she also has a shell... maybe.

I begin to touch myself. I'm determined to finish the job that she has left incomplete. But, as I do, I keep my eyes on Cunt, looking to see if any sign of my arousal flashes across her face. It does not take long before I am able to force out an orgasm. It's not the best. I kept checking up on Cunt, but she sleeps peacefully through the whole thing. I hate her!

---

I am doing my fifth rep of pushups when I hear the tone and the sound of a door sliding open. I am happy that they are going to allow me another shower. I'll be out of this cage in two days, after all. I wouldn't want to stink too bad for my glorious re-entry into the real world. I wouldn't want to stink too bad for my Mistress.

I stand and walk quickly towards the door. Cunt has sat up and is staring at me. There is an excellent chance that I will never see her again. Her door will open in less than twenty four hours. I stop and stare into her eyes. I couldn't help myself. And what does it matter anyway? I raise my hand with my middle finger prominently displayed and shake it at her.

"Fuck you, Cunt!" I scream and walk triumphantly through the door. Good riddance.

Once I am in the privacy of my conditioning room, I quickly masturbate twice, take a shower, and then masturbate once more before climbing into the shell. A session in the shell would pass the remaining time quickly. Soon I will be free!

With a practiced ease I grab the inserts that take care of my waste, lubricate them appropriately and slide them into place with a joyful little grunt. I climb up into the shell and slide each leg down the padded tubes that hold them so tightly. I lie backwards and push my arms into their tubes at my sides. I reach within them and grasp the handles deep inside. As I lay my head back I can already feel the pads along my arms and legs swelling, grasping me in a tight, secure grip. With a soft hissing sound the top of the shell lowers towards me. I open my mouth to accept the gag, letting its bulbous end slip past my teeth. The inner surface of the shell cups my jaw and pushes it closed around the gag.

The recently added tubes press around my eyes. I wonder if I will get the thrill of watching Cunt masturbate again. Cups squeeze around my ears. I am held firmly and comfortably and soon I let myself drift off.

---

I awake suddenly. I am staring at the countdown clock in Cunt's cell. In a few minutes the door will open and she will be free.

I admit that I am a little disappointed that I did not get to experience another of Cunt's orgasms. Oh, well. But, my body is comfortably numb. If anything, the shell feels a little tighter than ever before.

My throat is a little sore too. I try to swallow, but something obviously has been forced down it. It is probably a feeding tube. They have done it to me before during a particularly long session in the shell. I suppose that I will become hungry, if they leave me locked inside for the next twenty-four hours. Er... twenty-four hours and forty-nine seconds.

The final seconds on Cunt's countdown clock fall away and I hear her outside door open. This is my first view outside these cells in the past two years (minus one day). I see a long hall, brightly illuminated with irritating, fluorescent light. I see Cunt walk up to the door. She pauses for a second, turns to look back into the cell for a moment and then walks on out into the hall.

I am so excited. I can feel my heart pounding somewhere deep inside me. This will be me soon!

My view changes to another camera, I assume somewhere further down the hall. I am up near the roof looking down on a green line painted on the floor with an arrow pointing in the direction that my camera is angled. Shortly, bald Cunt, still naked, comes ambling down the hall, occasionally, letting her fingers brush along the walls as she makes her way. She seems pensive, or confused. I suppose that would be natural. I kind of feel the same way even though I am just an observer.

I feel a short, sharp shock suddenly which scares me intensely for half a second. Luckily the sensation fades quickly. It takes me a moment to recover enough before I realize that I feel some kind of pressure on the bottoms of my feet - cold, lacquered, concrete. Holy shit! I am feeling what Cunt is feeling. I can feel the floor under her bare feet as she makes her way down the hall.

I feel the smooth surface of the walls on my fingertips when she reaches out to touch them. I feel the cool air swishing across my skin. I never would have noticed such a thing without the contrast from which my sensation has just transitioned, tightly pressed and numb within my shell. If I concentrate hard, I can still feel the pads along my body, but the sensation is just a shadow compared the feeling of cool air swishing past me as Cunt slowly makes her way down the hall.

After she moves out of the field of my camera, there is another shift of perspective. I see a wall with a shuttered window. The green line painted on the floor comes to an end with a big circle enclosing two painted footprints directly in front of the window. I can still feel the sensation of Cunt's plodding feet taking her down the hall and soon she moves into my field of view again.

She makes her way up to the window and plants her feet on the painted foot prints, then stands motionless like a stupid lamb, waiting for something to happen.

My view begins to zoom in on her until the back of her shiny, bald head fills the frame of my camera. The camera paused for a second, and then the scene pops briefly. I find myself staring at the shuttered window.

I feel a chill ripple through my tightly squeezed body. This cannot be! My perspective slides slightly to the left and then back forward again. I am looking through Cunt's eyes!

There is a scraping sound that makes me jump. I think it made Cunt jump too. The window in front of us slides up and a woman in white scrubs, a surgical hat, and mask is waiting for us. She pushes a clipboard towards us.

"Fill out the form," the woman says unenthusiastically.

Cunt stares at the woman for an embarrassingly long moment. In my mind I am starting to yell, "Get on with it!" Finally she steps forward and picks up a ball point pen chained to the clipboard.

She focuses (I focus, as well, of course) down at the piece of paper on the clipboard. Cunt grasps the pen between her fingers. She raises the pen to the first box printed with the label, "Name".

Cunt writes, "Mary Anne Heartless".

"Wha-! Wait! No! No! That's not right! Stop!"

I try to scream, but I can make no noise. I feel my throat clench against the tube embedded within it. I try to flail my arms and legs but only feel the shadow sense of the tubes holding them tightly. Otherwise, I feel cool air flowing around them and a pen between my fingers scribbling my identifying details on a fucking form.

"I am Mary Anne Heartless!" I try to scream. "She's an impostor! Get me out of here!"

My heart is pounding again. I want to shut my eyes. I want the feelings to go away. "I am lying in the shell." I tell myself. "I am lying in the shell."

Cunt scribbles out my signature and slides the clipboard across the desk. The woman pushes a cardboard box back towards us. Cunt opens the box and begins pulling out belongings. My belongings! My clothes! My ID's!

"No! Nooo!"

---

I am struggling and screaming inside my mind. There has to be some kind of mistake!

No! Those fuckers!

I know that there is no mistake. This whole experimental prison program is a sham. They knew that they were unable to brainwash me! So now... So now they are sending out an impostor in my place. They aren't going to let me go. They are going to keep me locked in this fucking cell! Locked in this fucking shell!

Let me out!

I am certain that I am going to die. My heart is beating so hard that I think that my chest will explode.

I have less than twenty-four hours. Maybe they will let me out!

Help! Let me go, you fuckers!

My impostor carries my belongings to a private room and pulls on my clothes. I can see everything that she sees. I can feel everything that she feels. I can hear everything that she hears.

"A car is waiting for you, Ms. Heartless, when you are ready," a voice says over a loudspeaker. My impostor stands up and looks into a mirror.

Holy shit! She looks just like me. How did I not notice before?

Maybe when her hair grows back in it will be the wrong color. Maybe someone will realize that she is not me when they ask about some past detail. Someone will come and look for me. Someone will!

My impostor steps out through an exterior door into the sunlight. I am thankful that she shades her eyes. I haven't seen the sun in years.

A long, black limousine is parked at the curb. Schultz is leaning against the rear fender of the car with a smug look on her face. I fucking hate Schultz! And she hates me too. Maybe she will recognize that the woman before her is not me and dispatch her quickly. Then they will have to get me... Wait! Maybe Schultz should not dispatch my impostor, because then everyone will think that I am dead and they will never have a reason to release me from this prison.

Shit! I am so confused!

Schultz opens the rear door of the limousine.

"Heartless. Nice 'doo," she says with a mocking wave of her hand directing me into the car.

"Schultz! Scag!" I thought.

"Schultz," my impostor said calmly as she slips into the seat and puts her seatbelt on.

Neither Schultz nor my impostor say a word as the limousine navigates the city streets.

I can feel the plush seats press against my legs and ass and my back. I can feel the seatbelt across my chest. I can feel every bump and turn that the limousine makes. But I know that I am still sealed inside the shell back at the prison.

After a while, my impostor reaches into a refrigerator and pulls out a cold bottle of spring water. She twists off the top and begins to drink. I feel the plastic bottle against my lips. I feel the cold liquid slide across my tongue. My neck twitches as though I am swallowing. After she has consumed the entire bottle, though, I do not feel any more full than I had before.

My impostor looks out the window of the car and I see familiar roads. We are heading towards my Mistress' mansion. I begin to feel particularly nervous. On one hand, I am excited by the possibility of seeing my love, my life, my Mistress. Oh! How I have dreamt of her for the past two years. I love her so much! I killed for her! And I would do it again if she asked! And, I know that she loved me. Would she still?

On the other hand, what if my impostor is an assassin. What if she goes berserk and kills my Mistress? How cruel that would be to feel the broken bones of my beloved Mistress' neck transmitted to me through my impostor's hands. I now believe that my jailers would take pleasure in that torture. For, already I am experiencing the most heinous of evils.

My Mistress is wise though. She has not attained her powerful position without careful planning and constant vigilance. She will know what to do. I have no idea what she should do. I don't know what I want her to do. She will know though. I hope.

Schultz parks the car and opens the back door for my impostor. "Get out!"

She leads my impostor through the front doors of the mansion, under the crystal chandeliers in the foyer, past the row of marble columns to a small door. We travel through a maze of corridors deep into the mansion. It all looks the same. I still remember every turn. We come to a blank wooden wall and stop. Schultz looks over at my impostor without saying a word. She is watching every move my impostor makes.

I knew that there was an elevator hidden behind the paneling. The controls are on the back side of a vase on a stand by the wall.

After an uncomfortable moment, my impostor asks, "Are we going down?"

"Of course," Schultz growls.

My impostor reaches for the vase and presses a button and the paneling slides back. A moment later the elevator door behind the paneling also opens and we walk inside.

"Basement three," Schultz says. My impostor presses the button, the door closes, and I feel us quickly descend.

When the door opens, the scene before us is unfamiliar. My Mistress has installed a huge aquarium of some kind - several stories tall. Light from somewhere far above filters through the water and paints the room in which we stand in dancing shades of blue.

At first it is the schools of brightly colored tropical fish that catches my impostor's eye.

But, there is something in the background. Moving. Something alien.

"Focus, Cunt! Look deeper!" I scream in my mind.

Slowly, my impostor begins to shift her focus toward the movement. There is a long sleek tale with a wide fluke which flashes a rainbow of colors as it slowly flicks back and forth. My impostor follows the tail higher and I see the scales slowly transition to sleek flesh. Human flesh. Indeed, the top half of the animal is a human female. Her arms cut back and forth through the water. Her long brunette hair fans out behind her. She is looking at us. At least I think she is. A heavy collar is locked around her neck and large links of chain trail away from her past her large, exposed breasts and off into the gloom of the aquarium.

"Do you like my new pet?" a voice behind my impostor says.

Mistress!

"Mistress!" my impostor says and spins around and drops to the floor. I feel the cool leather of my Mistress' boots press lightly on my lips.

"Heartless. My love! I have missed you so these past two years."

Oh! Her voice is as beautiful as ever! My heart begins to swell with the pent up love that I have suppressed for so long. "Look up at her, you dumb cunt!" I scream in my mind.

My impostor finally does look up from her kneeling position. My Mistress' raven dark hair is much longer than when I had last seen it. Her white skin glows like the moon. Her dark red lips make my stomach flutter with excitement.

"You're bald. Will your hair grow out again?" my Mistress asks.

"I'm sorry that I am so ugly, Mistress. I hope that my hair will return."

"I don't know, Heartless. You're not exactly ugly. You have punkish, alien appeal. It's a little imposing. Maybe you should keep it," Mistress comments.

"Whatever you desire, Mistress," my impostor says and returns to her boot-kissing. How did they teach my impostor all these details of protocol?

"Stand up, Heartless," my Mistress commands. My double stands and looks up into my Mistress' eyes. I feel my own heart beating faster. Mistress cups my chin and returns my impostor's stare, looking directly into my eyes. We all stand like this for long seconds before she twists my impostor away from her. Soft lips press down on the top of my head. I feel the cool leather cloaking my Mistress' arms wrap around my waist from behind. After a brief hug, one hand rises and cups a breast while the second slides down between my legs. My muscles clench briefly, an electric sensation. I'm not sure if this feeling came from my impostor or whether it originated within my own being. Arousal swells through my flesh.

"You remember Harper, don't you?" Mistress whispers into my ear.

The mermaid has tilted down toward us and is drifting closer. "This is Harper?" my impostor asks.

Oh, my god! It is Harper. I study the shape of her face as the lights flash across her skin. Harper had once been a rival who had caused some difficulties for my Mistress in the past.

"I have become friends with a brilliant eugenics geneticist," Mistress explains. "She is pushing the boundaries of her field. She's winning international awards for her work. Then again, no one knows how well she has been able to test her theories on some willing participants. Like Harper, here. Her experiments would probably not rate highly with the ethicists, I suppose."

"She's beautiful," my impostor whispers.

"Yeah... She can actually breathe underwater."

"What is the chain for?" my impostor asks.

"Oh, that keeps her at least ten feet below the water's surface. She will never feel a cool breeze play across her skin ever again. She'll never hear sounds unfiltered by the press of water in her ears or speak words that can be understood. The chain is not really necessary. It's just a reminder of who put her in this fishbowl. The weight will always tell her that she is mine." Lips press lightly against my brow.

My Mistress' releases me from her hug. Suddenly, I feel empty and naked and cold. Incomplete.

"So, lover, what did they do to you in this experimental rehabilitation program that you were in?"

My impostor shakes her head and slowly turns back to face Mistress.

"I don't know for sure," my impostor says with a hint of fear in her voice.

I can see Schulz standing off to the side with a sour look on her face. She's fidgeting.

"Well, what DO you know?" my Mistress asks. "Did they fuck with your brain?"

My impostor looks down at the ground. "I... I can't k-" My stomach muscles clench suddenly. A muscular pain shoots up from my abdomen to my neck.

"What's wrong, Heartless?" my Mistress asks.

My impostor looks up briefly. Mistress glances over to Schulz, who has stepped a little closer to me - her hands balled into fists.

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I can't ki.." Breath whistles out my impostor's mouth and my knees crash to the floor. We are hunching over in pain. My impostor starts to wretch.

Please don't throw up!

I remind myself that I am lying in a shell miles away with tubes winding their way into my stomach. Who knows what would happen if I were to throw up?

"I... can't... kill...," my impostor wretches heavily, "anymore..."

Well, that's the difference between my impostor and me. I would kill her in a second. And then I'd kill Schulz just for pleasure.

"I'm so sorry..." my impostor whispers.

"Hmmm" Mistress grunts. "What else?"

"Please, Mistress, I love you so much. Please! Take me back!"

I feel tears come to my eyes. I mean, Cunt is crying, but I am crying too. If my Mistress sends Cunt away, that would be pretty much like sending me away. I would never see her again. Please don't send us away!

"Well..." my Mistress says, thinking for a moment. "Come on, my love, get off of the floor. You don't need to kill people for my love..."

My impostor stands up slowly, shaking. "Oh... thank you, Mistress!"

"But... Can I trust you?" Mistress continues.

No! Don't trust her! But...

"Yes!" my impostor cries. "You can trust me I promise. I'll do anything to prove it to you."

I would do anything, too.

"Unfortunately, lover, I have business on the other side of the world tomorrow. I need to leave for now. Until I return, I'll need to keep you... under wraps. Then we will see how willing you are to serve me again."

"Under wraps..." Schultz is laughing. "After two years in prison, it should be no problem for her."

"Yes. Chain her in the dungeon, Schulz," my Mistress states.

My impostor turns to look at Schulz, but even before she has even raised her eyes, it feels like a board is smashing into my face. It was Schulz's fat hand and my impostor is thrown painfully against the wall of the aquarium where she slides to the floor in a heap.

"Schulz, you are a dead woman!" I scream in my mind. My face stings from the blow.

My impostor continues to lay in a heap against the aquarium. She slowly looks up to see Harper treading water just on the other side of the thick glass, her hand pressed to the inner side of the container, her graceful tail flicking slowly and rhythmically, her eyes, haunting and wild, staring back at my impostor.

Schulz grabs my impostor by the neck of my shirt and yanks her upwards. The shirt rips and my impostor falls back against the aquarium glass.

"Now, now, Schultzy," Mistress says calmly and a bit dispassionately. "I don't want you to hurt Heartless."

Schulz grabs my impostor's arm and yanks her up onto her feet. My legs feel wobbly.

"Yes, Mistress." Her strong hand is wrapped painfully around my impostor's upper arm.

Mistress slides her fingers lightly over my impostor's face where I can still feel the heat of Schulz's blow. Her eyes narrow, searching my impostor's eyes for something. I want to scream that I am behind those eyes. Maybe she could see that she is dealing with an impostor. Maybe she would come and save me from this evil government prison.

Mistress turns and walks away. I watch her long black dress ripple and dance around her boots as she leaves the room.

Schulz pulls my impostor through corridors to a hallway lined with heavy steel doors. She opens one of the doors and throws my impostor onto the cold, cement floor.

"Take off everything!" she commands and begins slowly circling my impostor and a frame of bars holding up a cot of sorts in the middle of the small room.

"Hit the bitch!" I scream in my head, But I have to watch helplessly as my pants, shoes, and underclothes fall off one-by-one into a pile. Finally, naked, my impostor slowly stands up.

The cot is nothing more than a steel frame molded to assume the vague shape of a human - wider where one's back would rest, tapered towards the feet. The surface of the cot is nothing more than strips of heavy canvas, like a cargo net, criss-crossing and secured to the edges of the frame. It is about waist high. Through the gaps I can see rings and staples welded into the floor.

"On your back!" Schulz barks.

My impostor climbs onto the cot. I can feel the canvas press against her back as she lies back.

The door opens and four mansion security personal file into the small room rolling a cart with a large spool of shiny, medium gauge chain and various other shackles and cuffs. My impostor's wrists are pulled down to the sides of the cot's frame. Cold, steel cuffs wrap them tightly and the click and crunch of metal fastenings locking ring against the dark stone walls.

Schulz gives a sharp tug on the end of the chain wound about the spool. Links of metal begin to pour from the spinning holder into a pile on the floor.

"Careful, girls!" Schulz smirks. "Heartless is a cold blooded killer! We will need a lot of chain to keep the world safe from her deviant thirst for blood."

Two of the security guards are threading a chain up though an opening in the canvas straps beside my impostor's cheek. The chain becomes taut and Schulz snatches it away. She twists the chain across my impostor's mouth, her maw open. I feel the cold links pull painfully at each side of her mouth. Her teeth are pushed apart. I feel the metal press against my tongue.

Schulz threads the chain back down through the canvas on the opposite side of my impostor's face. Soon it is tight and Schulz yanks it a couple of times forcing my impostor to let out a pained "Gah!" when the canvas pressing against the back of her head refuses to yield anymore. Her drool begin to drip down my cheeks.

Meanwhile, something cold is being clipped around my impostor's big toes holding them tightly together. Then, as one, they are pulled forward until her toes are horizontal to the cot. I can feel the strain on my ankles and when the guards step away I know that they have been locked in this position.

My impostor is firmly restrained and stretched now, but Schulz is not satisfied. Soon a guard is feeding the long medium-gauge chain up from underneath the cot while Schulz hauls it through with grand jerks letting the links fall heavily across my poor intruder's body.

Eventually, she is satisfied that she has enough chain and leans over looking into our eyes.

"I bet you missed Mistress these past two years," she teases. "After all, you were her favorite. We all knew it. The two of you would emerge naked from her bedroom. I remember seeing your skin flushed and glistening with saliva and cum; that stupid fucking smug look on your face."

The guard begins feeding chain up to Schulz on the other side of my impostor's neck.

She continues. "You don't think that she waited for you, do you, Heartless?" Her voice is taunting and evil over the ringing of links sliding past my impostor's ear.

"No," Schulz whispers, her eyes hovering inches above mine. Above my impostor's.

"I'll fucking kill you!" I scream in my mind, but my impostor remains quiet pulling uselessly at her wrist shackles.

"No, Heartless. I have been fucking her," Schulz laughs.

I feel my muscles tensing. Maybe they were my impostor's muscles. I'm not sure, but I can feel the pressure of the surfaces of the shell that are compressed around my body.

I know I hate Schulz more than any who had come before and I begin to fantasize painful ways to end her. I feel my stomach lurch suddenly. I hear my impostor choke a little.

"What is that Heartless? Do you want to kill me?"

My impostor lurches again and an awful belching sound echoes in my head. I feel a strange sense of sympathy suddenly for this other me, this intruder, this double. We have a common goal. I pray that somehow she could break the chains and snap Schulz's neck.

Schulz pulls back laughing. She takes the two ends of the long chain that is now wrapped behind my impostor's neck. She pulls them diagonally across my chest, between my impostor's breasts and begins to feed the free ends back through the cargo net pulling them tightly until they press into the flesh, compressing my and Cunt's sternum.

Schulz steps away and allows the guards to continue wrapping my impostor in the chain, crossing back and forth over her naked body, pulling the chain tightly until it creases her flesh, looping the ends through the holes between the canvas straps and then continuing on down her stomach and abdomen, welding her body to the cot.

Schulz, meanwhile kneels close to my impostor's ear. "She's really quite the megalomaniac, you know."

My view flits back and forth across the ceiling, occasionally glancing at Schulz; drool bubbles out of Cunt's mouth and drips into my ears.

"Everyone wants a piece of Mistress these days. They want her to be on their side, maybe, or they want to kill her. I think that the stress is getting to her. She's acting a little wacky, sometimes."

This is the worst hell I could ever imagine having to listen to this foul slattern whisper her false confessions into my ear.

"She makes ridiculous rules now. For example, she has decreed that no one in the organization could ever refer to another woman as 'Bitch'. Not even in a joking way. 'No woman is a dog' she says." Schulz laughs quietly.  "I have whipped several offenders of that rule."

The guards pull both free ends of the chain around my hip bones and between my legs - the cold links sliding against the lips of my sex. I mean, my impostor's sex.

"Well," Schulz continues, "if you can't kill anymore, then you aren't so heartless anymore, I guess."

"Oh, I will kill you, Schulz," I scream in my head.

"If you aren't heartless, Heartless," Schulz continues, "then I guess that you are just like a little harmless puppy, aren't you?"

Schulz scrapes a finger up my impostor's cheek scooping a small string of drool. She flicks it back into my impostor's mouth.

"Yuck! I think that you would make a wonderful puppy."

The guards are now pulling the chains, criss-crossing across my impostor's legs squeezing them tightly together.

"Mistress will never trust you again. I'll make sure of that," Schulz laughs as she stands up over my impostor. "You will become one of her pets, eventually, and I, for one, will hope that she turns you into a puppy." She pauses for a moment, then grasps one of my impostor's nipples and squeezes and pulls at it causing both, my impostor and me, to howl in pain, garbled and silently, respectively.

"Something to think about..." Schulz laughs as she starts to walk away. "See you in a couple of weeks, Bitch!" And she is gone.

The guards finish wrapping my impostor in the web of chains all the way down to her ankles. They gather up their bondage supplies and keys and my personal items, and then they leave the room. I hear the door slam shut and locks engage. The lights dim.

My impostor moans and drools. A cramp begins to form in one of our feet.

Only my impostor's fingers move, gripping the air uselessly, as we lie together mummified in this small dungeon room... as I lie many miles away, locked in my prison cell, mummified again. My chest begins to heave suddenly. I think I am laughing. Hysterically.