Mouna Tenn
“Ms. Mouna Ten, next please,” called out Professor Doctor Greta Redmond, leading space cryopreservation's. Mouna Tenn applied for the assistant junior lab position, hoping to earn some money to pay her rent. Mouna stood and went into the very well-appointed office.
Professor Doctor Greta Redmond offered, “Ms. Ten, may I call you Mouna?”
Mouna stuttered, “Of, of course, Professor Doctor Redmond. It, it is nice that you, yourself have time for me.”
Looking at her screen, Professor Doctor Greta Redmond remarked, “Your body shape and size, excellent health and fitness, and blood type are perfect for my experiments. Your weight is well below average, but you are as fit and healthy as any astronaut or Olympic champion. That ensures the greatest likelihood for success.”
Mouna stuttered, “My, my age Professor Doctor Greta Redmond?”
Professor Doctor Greta Redmond smiled and spoke, “You look and act like you are eighteen, my dear, or even older, but by your body weight and size, you may be fifteen, at most sixteen. We need the consent of at least one of your parents, Mouna.”
“Don’t have any,” blurted Mouna, “I need the money, and working here includes a place to stay. Please, Professor Doctor Greta Redmond, please. I will do anything, anything, Professor Doctor Greta Redmond, please.”
Professor Doctor Greta Redmond pushed several forms to Mouna, which she signed, Consent, NDA. But Mouna did not enter her banking, social media, email, Facebook, and other details. The professor understood. It was the sort of information you would ordinarily not give to anyone except for emergencies.
The professor explained, “You signed the NDA and the Consent Forms, but we need the other information to check that what you say is correct. Your banking details are for the acceptance bonus and monthly payments after that.” Mouna sighed and wrote down what the professor wanted, and she immediately checked it.
A while later, Mouna sitting in front of the professor’s impressive desk waiting, was startled when the doctor spoke to her, “Alright, Mouna, everything checks out except your age, my dear. You will be sixteen in three months.” Mouna withered under the doctor’s stare.
But the doctor smiled then spoke, “But everything else is exactly as you said. I have arranged for the first payment to your account and have confirmed that it has gone through. Leave your things to hear and come with me. No phones, please. Are you ready? Just leave your jacket on the chair and come with me.”
Professor Doctor Redmond led Mouna to a wall panel and placed her hand on it. The panel slid aside and opened on an elevator. She bade Mona enter, and she followed. The professor placed her hand on a glass panel inside the lift, placed her face close to the wall, and spoke, “Professor Doctor Greta Redmond, Alpha 7345.”
The outer panel closed, the inner doors closed, and the lift plummeted alarmingly rapidly. Mouna held on for dear life, still collecting her wits, the lift stopped, and the lift doors opened.
Professor Doctor Redmond spoke, “Watch your step,” Mouna looked down then felt something wet on her face. Losing all strength, Mouna collapsed into the arms of two aliens, two impossible beings.
They caught her, and with her feet dragging, they brought her to a metal examination table, put her down, and then walked away. Mouna was still processing this, and she realized she was paralyzed except for her auto functions like heartbeat, breathing, and blinking. Trying to make sense of it all, Mouna focused on the two alien life forms.
Impressing as feminine with the overlong legs, small feet, and tiny impossible for humans waist, the beings had curved triangular bodies like a shield. Normal-looking heads with hints of human features on the overlong neck had a rounded triangular jaw. Below their torso, their hips looked almost like anorexic girls’ hips, as did the overlong legs. With the size of their feet, they were walking on the balls as there were no heels. Naked, just in a rust-brown skin or suit, the two creatures moved and reminded Mouse of the Kaminoans in one of the Star War movies.
Professor Doctor Greta Redmond instructed, “Delta thirteen, here are the subjects facebook and Instagram details. Log on and create posts traveling Europe from Antwerpen into the near east. Alternate the pattern to look like she took, say, four months before she disappears. Delta twenty-one makes the usual entries in migration records and airport. Mark her as a last-minute boding for a canceled seat to Belgium. I will empty her account. Oh, she was not kidding that she was broke and in debt. Poor girl. We will make it all better. Three attempts to deactivate the account will be enough for the bank to understand that she is gone.
Mouse felt the cold not just from the metal under her but in her heart. This was a professional and routine operation. Delta was the fourth letter in the Greek alphabet and the two were numbers thirteen and twenty-one. Was she to become Delta twenty-two? How far underground were they? How could such a large facility be under the middle of New York without anyone knowing about it? Her tracker chip’s signal would not make it through this much rock. Fuck!
The two girls turned into bio-mechanical droids, came back with sharp knives, and deftly cut away her clothing, handling her like a corps in CSI. They put a block under Mouse’s neck, then one hosed her down while the other scrubbed her with a harsh brush. Their blank, expressionless faces seemed to see what they did. The droids flipped Mouse over on my front and face; it was degrading and invasive.
Mouse knew she was fucked this time. No last-minute rescue by Lady Cathenne and her sisters Honeybee and Polecat. Her body trackers once every twelve-hour signal would not have the strength to send a GPS signal through the ground. Whatever happened to Mouna, Lady Cathenne, Honeybee, and Polecat could not find her, could not stop it.
The professor stood over Mouse and wiped the tears away, and spoke, “I know, I know, it is all terrible, and it will be a little uncomfortable for a while. My dear, it is a deep and dark tunnel. But then, you will be the first almost entirely biological immortal if you survive. But I feel lucky, Ms. Tenn, you are the tenth to try, the fittest and strongest. You have an excellent chance to become Epsilon Ten and the first. Once we succeed, we will make many more like you as surrogates for the Board Members who financed me. But you will be the first and go down in history as the first immortal.”
The professor explained as she inserted large thick eyes contacts, “These will cover and protect your eyes when we purify your skin and replace it with the red-brown bioplastic. Your body will be impervious to knives, most bullets, and still, you will feel the slightest change in the win or the gentle caress of your partner. Of course, you will be hairless, and the process will be uncomfortable, but think of it, near impervious skin and immortality! Is that not worth it Epsilon Ten?”
The droids massaged a goo onto Mouse and then into Mouse. Even though paralyzed, her body shook with the pain when the two put the substance into her vagina, mouth, ears, and nose. It felt as if they had doused her with petroleum and lit it. They flipped Mouse again and did the same to her back, head, hands, souls of her feet. Mouse wanted to faint, to scream, to do anything, but all she could do was hurt and burn.
Seemingly hurriedly, the droids drew up thick rubber stockings and thick rubber gloves, ensuring that every toe and every finger was in place. Then they attached Mouse’s rubber-gloved wrist to a trapeze, hoisted her up off the bench, and applied more of the burning goo. A thick hood stretched over her head with an opening for her mouth and nose.
While the one did this, the other drew something over Mouse’s legs and stretched it over her shoulders. It was tight and would have hurt if not for the overriding burning pain. Then, still hanging, a tube was pushed into her esophagus and another into her trachea. They filler her nose and mouth with the goo, pried her mouth apart until her jaw cracked then filled her mouth totally and utterly.
Most anyone would go insane with the pain, but Mouse retreated to a tiny corner of her brain and watched on with concerned interest, barely staving off the agony trying to break her mind. That is what they were doing. They could easily give her a sedative, put her into an induced coma, or even let her faint, but no, they wanted her mind to break, and she would become like the two droids.
Another something was shoved up her anus, then into her urethra, then her vagina. All the things with tubes went in so deep, Mouse thought they would meet the tube running down her esophagus. Then she felt fluid flowing through her anus and urethra. They were evacuating her waste aggressively.
Mouse had to be careful not to lose concentration, or the punishment her body was undergoing would overwhelm her and make her go insane. To think that they suspected that this facility made fifty-seven other girls go through this and would do more if not stopped. Bt how would her people find her? How would they find that hidden wall panel?
They pit another tight rubber suit over her, then another, and she felt the heat and the pressure, and the burning. She felt something put over her mouth and nose, attached to the tubes, then felt cool air streaming into her lungs and a cool fluid flowing into her stomach.
Hanging by her wrists, Mouse felt her legs spread apart and felt her inserts were attached to tubes. Her legs were painfully pulled apart into impossible splits, then the device strapped around her thigs and waist. She felt everything, and slowly, indeed, the pain and degradation were winning against her mental shield. She made herself smaller and thought about Polecat and Honeybee. They would be sad when they lost her.
Professor Doctor Greta Redmond spoke, “Delta thirteen, attach yourself for your four-hour recycling period, then take over from Delta Thirteen when she hooks up. Keep her temperature at one hundred and ten unless her heart rate or blood pressure exceeds two hundred. Try regulating the cleansing fluids and air to cooler, even if it damages her internally. We can replace the lungs and will not need the stomach. I will be back in the morning for the next treatment.” The lift doors opened and closed.
Mouse was still in her corner, staving off the agony. She recalled that this year was the fifteenth working for Lady Cathenne with Honeybee and Polecat. They had successfully taken down many child trafficking and abuse rings. However, Mouse, once Mouna Lisa Kaspersky, still felt she had not made up for outing Lady Cathenne in a neocortical and warning the Micky Mouse pedophile ring that they were about to be caught. It took them another year to get them, but in that time, countless girls were caught, brainwashed, trained into obedience, and sold. No matter how many she saved since she could not forget how many she indirectly prostituted.
She tried to focus on their last evening in bed, with Polecat nibbling on her lower lips and Honeybee kissing her mouth. She focused entirely on just this and slowed down the time, enjoying every second for hours...
