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Prisoner Twelve (story)

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M

montycrusto

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She spotted the advert on a crowded notice-board in the arts faculty building. Amidst all the flyers for student plays, music venues and lodgings, a small, neatly printed card said: “Volunteers wanted for research into psychological effects of incarceration. Participants will be held as prisoners for three days, while neurological activity is monitored.” There was little more beside a telephone number and directions to an office in the Psychology Department. Rachel paused and looked up and down the corridor; a few other students came and went, but no-one she knew.


Incarceration. The word had caught her eye immediately. The thought of being imprisoned, behind bars, kept under lock and key, had always been a secret fantasy for her. The sound of keys jangling, a heavy door slamming, or the clinking of a chain, had always made her feel excited. Now she was being offered a way to indulge it safely, even nobly, as part of a scientific enterprise. Rachel realized her heart was thundering at the idea. She knew she wanted to do this, but also that she almost certainly lacked the courage to go through with it. So it was with a certain determination that she walked quickly down the stairs and across the campus towards the Psychology building, not wanting to wait until her courage failed.


The office was not where she thought it was, and she had to return to the map just inside the entrance to the building. Realizing she was on the wrong floor, she set off again, down a flight of stairs and along an unfamiliar corridor, which turned a corner and opened up into a small lobby. There were washrooms through a pair of doorways at one end, and sure enough, the office she was looking for was halfway along the wall on one side. It seemed to be the only office here.


Rachel approached the wooden door slowly, her hand raised to knock. She heard voices inside, and she paused, her spirits suddenly quailing at the thought of offering herself as a volunteer. This was the psychology department, after all… would they immediately guess that she wanted to be locked up to satisfy some deep perverted desire? The voices changed in tone, and she heard a chair pushed back. Before she could back away, the door opened and a young man came out, looking her up and down in surprise. It did look a little as if she had been eavesdropping. As she moved back to let him past, a voice called from inside the office,


“Come in, young lady, no need to wait on formalities”


She saw through the still open door a cluttered office with a benevolent-looking older man sitting behind a large desk. She couldn’t back out now he had seen her, so she entered, her embarrassment making her blush. The younger man had already sauntered off down the corridor. The man behind the desk introduced himself as Doctor Kay, and invited her to close the door and sit down. Rachel’s heart was pounding, but she did as he asked. He seemed to know why she had come, and after asking her name and a few other questions, the grey-haired gentleman launched into a detailed explanation of the research project.


He told her she would be kept for several days under conditions comparable to imprisonment, that she would be fed and looked after, but denied contact with the outside world. This was apparently vital for the success of the experiment. She nodded, grateful not to have to explain herself much. She would be treated as a prisoner during the project, which meant not only the loss of her personal liberty, but having to obey rules and orders given by staff; these staff would be experienced prison warders. Restraint and/or punishment may be applied if orders were not followed to the warders’ satisfaction. He paused, looking a little embarrassed.


“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Barnes, some of the warders we have engaged for this project are experienced in dealing with high-security prisoners; you may find their conduct and language shocking, and perhaps unpleasant. This too is part of the experiment, I’m afraid, and it is quite unavoidable. The simulation must be as realistic as possible, you see, in fact once it has started, no-one will refer to it as a simulation; that would adversely affect our data, although of course we cannot rule out all traces of artificiality. The incarceration itself should not be too onerous, provided you follow the rules and instructions given to you. If you feel you cannot give us your time, I do understand.”


He paused again. This was her moment to back out, if she wanted to. Rachel was seized by a mixture of fear and excitement; the talk of restraint and punishment had gripped her imagination, and she was trying to brush away the mental image of actually being handcuffed and manhandled, when she realized the Doctor had stopped speaking. Flustered, she tried to hide her turmoil, and meet his eyes. Doctor Kay looked at her appraisingly for a moment, then handed her a piece of paper covered in print.


“Perhaps you would like to think about it for a day or two? There is some more information on this sheet; do read it at your leisure and call me if you have any questions. Don’t leave it too long though, the project has already begun. I do hope you will decide to join us, Miss Barnes”


With that he stood up and held out a hand for her to shake, then showed her to the door, and she stumbled out.
 
She spotted the advert on a crowded notice-board in the arts faculty building. Amidst all the flyers for student plays, music venues and lodgings, a small, neatly printed card said: “Volunteers wanted for research into psychological effects of incarceration. Participants will be held as prisoners for three days, while neurological activity is monitored.” There was little more beside a telephone number and directions to an office in the Psychology Department. Rachel paused and looked up and down the corridor; a few other students came and went, but no-one she knew.


Incarceration. The word had caught her eye immediately. The thought of being imprisoned, behind bars, kept under lock and key, had always been a secret fantasy for her. The sound of keys jangling, a heavy door slamming, or the clinking of a chain, had always made her feel excited. Now she was being offered a way to indulge it safely, even nobly, as part of a scientific enterprise. Rachel realized her heart was thundering at the idea. She knew she wanted to do this, but also that she almost certainly lacked the courage to go through with it. So it was with a certain determination that she walked quickly down the stairs and across the campus towards the Psychology building, not wanting to wait until her courage failed.


The office was not where she thought it was, and she had to return to the map just inside the entrance to the building. Realizing she was on the wrong floor, she set off again, down a flight of stairs and along an unfamiliar corridor, which turned a corner and opened up into a small lobby. There were washrooms through a pair of doorways at one end, and sure enough, the office she was looking for was halfway along the wall on one side. It seemed to be the only office here.


Rachel approached the wooden door slowly, her hand raised to knock. She heard voices inside, and she paused, her spirits suddenly quailing at the thought of offering herself as a volunteer. This was the psychology department, after all… would they immediately guess that she wanted to be locked up to satisfy some deep perverted desire? The voices changed in tone, and she heard a chair pushed back. Before she could back away, the door opened and a young man came out, looking her up and down in surprise. It did look a little as if she had been eavesdropping. As she moved back to let him past, a voice called from inside the office,


“Come in, young lady, no need to wait on formalities”


She saw through the still open door a cluttered office with a benevolent-looking older man sitting behind a large desk. She couldn’t back out now he had seen her, so she entered, her embarrassment making her blush. The younger man had already sauntered off down the corridor. The man behind the desk introduced himself as Doctor Kay, and invited her to close the door and sit down. Rachel’s heart was pounding, but she did as he asked. He seemed to know why she had come, and after asking her name and a few other questions, the grey-haired gentleman launched into a detailed explanation of the research project.


He told her she would be kept for several days under conditions comparable to imprisonment, that she would be fed and looked after, but denied contact with the outside world. This was apparently vital for the success of the experiment. She nodded, grateful not to have to explain herself much. She would be treated as a prisoner during the project, which meant not only the loss of her personal liberty, but having to obey rules and orders given by staff; these staff would be experienced prison warders. Restraint and/or punishment may be applied if orders were not followed to the warders’ satisfaction. He paused, looking a little embarrassed.


“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Barnes, some of the warders we have engaged for this project are experienced in dealing with high-security prisoners; you may find their conduct and language shocking, and perhaps unpleasant. This too is part of the experiment, I’m afraid, and it is quite unavoidable. The simulation must be as realistic as possible, you see, in fact once it has started, no-one will refer to it as a simulation; that would adversely affect our data, although of course we cannot rule out all traces of artificiality. The incarceration itself should not be too onerous, provided you follow the rules and instructions given to you. If you feel you cannot give us your time, I do understand.”


He paused again. This was her moment to back out, if she wanted to. Rachel was seized by a mixture of fear and excitement; the talk of restraint and punishment had gripped her imagination, and she was trying to brush away the mental image of actually being handcuffed and manhandled, when she realized the Doctor had stopped speaking. Flustered, she tried to hide her turmoil, and meet his eyes. Doctor Kay looked at her appraisingly for a moment, then handed her a piece of paper covered in print.


“Perhaps you would like to think about it for a day or two? There is some more information on this sheet; do read it at your leisure and call me if you have any questions. Don’t leave it too long though, the project has already begun. I do hope you will decide to join us, Miss Barnes”


With that he stood up and held out a hand for her to shake, then showed her to the door, and she stumbled out.
There's loads more to come, I hope you folks like it. It gets pretty dark later on :)
 
Bearing in mind the secret experiments which have been carried out by various governments on an unsuspecting public this story does sound plausible. I look forward to seeing the menace gradually develop.
Oh, it will!! Thanks for commenting Melissa
 
She spotted the advert on a crowded notice-board in the arts faculty building. Amidst all the flyers for student plays, music venues and lodgings, a small, neatly printed card said: “Volunteers wanted for research into psychological effects of incarceration. Participants will be held as prisoners for three days, while neurological activity is monitored.” There was little more beside a telephone number and directions to an office in the Psychology Department. Rachel paused and looked up and down the corridor; a few other students came and went, but no-one she knew.


Incarceration. The word had caught her eye immediately. The thought of being imprisoned, behind bars, kept under lock and key, had always been a secret fantasy for her. The sound of keys jangling, a heavy door slamming, or the clinking of a chain, had always made her feel excited. Now she was being offered a way to indulge it safely, even nobly, as part of a scientific enterprise. Rachel realized her heart was thundering at the idea. She knew she wanted to do this, but also that she almost certainly lacked the courage to go through with it. So it was with a certain determination that she walked quickly down the stairs and across the campus towards the Psychology building, not wanting to wait until her courage failed.


The office was not where she thought it was, and she had to return to the map just inside the entrance to the building. Realizing she was on the wrong floor, she set off again, down a flight of stairs and along an unfamiliar corridor, which turned a corner and opened up into a small lobby. There were washrooms through a pair of doorways at one end, and sure enough, the office she was looking for was halfway along the wall on one side. It seemed to be the only office here.


Rachel approached the wooden door slowly, her hand raised to knock. She heard voices inside, and she paused, her spirits suddenly quailing at the thought of offering herself as a volunteer. This was the psychology department, after all… would they immediately guess that she wanted to be locked up to satisfy some deep perverted desire? The voices changed in tone, and she heard a chair pushed back. Before she could back away, the door opened and a young man came out, looking her up and down in surprise. It did look a little as if she had been eavesdropping. As she moved back to let him past, a voice called from inside the office,


“Come in, young lady, no need to wait on formalities”


She saw through the still open door a cluttered office with a benevolent-looking older man sitting behind a large desk. She couldn’t back out now he had seen her, so she entered, her embarrassment making her blush. The younger man had already sauntered off down the corridor. The man behind the desk introduced himself as Doctor Kay, and invited her to close the door and sit down. Rachel’s heart was pounding, but she did as he asked. He seemed to know why she had come, and after asking her name and a few other questions, the grey-haired gentleman launched into a detailed explanation of the research project.


He told her she would be kept for several days under conditions comparable to imprisonment, that she would be fed and looked after, but denied contact with the outside world. This was apparently vital for the success of the experiment. She nodded, grateful not to have to explain herself much. She would be treated as a prisoner during the project, which meant not only the loss of her personal liberty, but having to obey rules and orders given by staff; these staff would be experienced prison warders. Restraint and/or punishment may be applied if orders were not followed to the warders’ satisfaction. He paused, looking a little embarrassed.


“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Barnes, some of the warders we have engaged for this project are experienced in dealing with high-security prisoners; you may find their conduct and language shocking, and perhaps unpleasant. This too is part of the experiment, I’m afraid, and it is quite unavoidable. The simulation must be as realistic as possible, you see, in fact once it has started, no-one will refer to it as a simulation; that would adversely affect our data, although of course we cannot rule out all traces of artificiality. The incarceration itself should not be too onerous, provided you follow the rules and instructions given to you. If you feel you cannot give us your time, I do understand.”


He paused again. This was her moment to back out, if she wanted to. Rachel was seized by a mixture of fear and excitement; the talk of restraint and punishment had gripped her imagination, and she was trying to brush away the mental image of actually being handcuffed and manhandled, when she realized the Doctor had stopped speaking. Flustered, she tried to hide her turmoil, and meet his eyes. Doctor Kay looked at her appraisingly for a moment, then handed her a piece of paper covered in print.


“Perhaps you would like to think about it for a day or two? There is some more information on this sheet; do read it at your leisure and call me if you have any questions. Don’t leave it too long though, the project has already begun. I do hope you will decide to join us, Miss Barnes”


With that he stood up and held out a hand for her to shake, then showed her to the door, and she stumbled out.

She ought to think twice and read the fine print before agreeing to this...but I bet she won't :rolleyes:
 
Part 2.


All the way home to her flat, and while she prepared supper and got ready for bed, Rachel fantasized about handcuffs, heavy steel doors and the other paraphernalia of incarceration. The thought of being bossed around by pushy prison guards didn’t bother her too much – in fact, it excited her more. She already knew she desperately wanted to do it. Sure, the food would probably be awful, but it was only for three days. Somehow, locks and chains made her feel… well, horny, she supposed. In bed, she touched herself, stoking her fantasy on the images that crowded her brain, images of herself as a powerless prisoner, sometimes being thrust roughly into a cell, being frog-marched along corridors, and especially being handcuffed; she breathlessly hoped that “restraint” meant precisely that. At length she fell into a troubled sleep.


The next few days passed in a haze of semi-arousal, as Rachel could not stop thinking about being taken into custody, forced to wear a prison uniform, and locked in a cell with no freedom to leave, and no choice but to endure until she was released. If anything, she began to fear that the hired guards would treat her too gently, so that she would not even feel like she was at their mercy. She had phoned Doctor Kay to confirm her participation, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She had also taken care of a few duties, letting her family and friends know she would be away for a short while, on a course, she told them.


And now the day had arrived, when she must present herself once more at Dr. Kay’s office, and this time she would be forcibly taken and locked up for three days. Rachel barely slept the night before, and was up very early, preparing herself for the ordeal. First she bathed herself, shaving her legs and armpits carefully – for some reason she wanted to look her absolute best for this experience. On a sudden whim, she shaved her pubes as well, something she had not done for a long time; as she towelled off her crotch, the unfamiliar coolness felt extremely pleasant, and added to her sense of mounting excitement. Her hair she brushed back and tied into a simple ponytail.


She padded back into the bedroom, donned her best bra and knickers, and surveyed the clothes she had laid out on a chair. The printed instructions she had received said she would be issued with a prison uniform, but suggested she should turn up in comfortable clothing. Comfortable! The jeans, t-shirt and green hooded fleece she had put out the night before looked way too comfortable for her current excitable state of mind. She pictured herself being arrested and forced into a car wearing those jeans, and then pictured the same, but wearing instead a skirt, maybe quite a short one… her heart began to thunder at the thought. God, this was like the jitters she felt before a first date. Before she could change her mind, she opened a drawer and took out the shortest skirt she possessed; it was a skater skirt in black faux leather. She had ordered it on-line, but had never had the courage to wear it in public. She put it on; it sat quite high at the waist, where it was fairly tight, but then it flared dramatically and hung in loose pleats over her hips, extending down nearly to mid-thigh; it was undeniably sexy, probably too much so for the sober experiment she had volunteered to participate in. But Rachel ran her hands over the faux leather, smoothing it over her hips, and knew she would wear it, with simple black shoes, not heels. If she should happen to meet someone she knew on the way there, she would be embarrassed for sure, because she normally dressed quite modestly, but the chance of slight humiliation didn’t bother her when she thought of being forced into a car by uniformed men; she wanted to feel helpless and vulnerable in their power.


The t-shirt had to go; it was too baggy, and didn’t go with the skirt – she chose instead a sporty sleeveless top in black with white stripes; basically a vest with a racer back, which showed off her shoulders. Since this contained its own integral bra, she discarded her bra too. The top was slightly cropped, and although it came to below her ribs, it showed off a creamy slice of midriff when she stood up straight. She hoped she would be ordered to stand up straight…


Finally she grabbed her short grey hooded coat, and she was ready to go. Picking up her mobile, she stuffed it into the small rucksack she had already packed with her necessaries: sponge bag, towel, a couple of books, pyjamas, underwear and a track suit as a change of clothes because, well, you never know. She left her flat, her heart thudding in anticipation, already feeling slightly naked as the cool air of the stairway greeted her bare legs.
 
Part 2.


All the way home to her flat, and while she prepared supper and got ready for bed, Rachel fantasized about handcuffs, heavy steel doors and the other paraphernalia of incarceration. The thought of being bossed around by pushy prison guards didn’t bother her too much – in fact, it excited her more. She already knew she desperately wanted to do it. Sure, the food would probably be awful, but it was only for three days. Somehow, locks and chains made her feel… well, horny, she supposed. In bed, she touched herself, stoking her fantasy on the images that crowded her brain, images of herself as a powerless prisoner, sometimes being thrust roughly into a cell, being frog-marched along corridors, and especially being handcuffed; she breathlessly hoped that “restraint” meant precisely that. At length she fell into a troubled sleep.


The next few days passed in a haze of semi-arousal, as Rachel could not stop thinking about being taken into custody, forced to wear a prison uniform, and locked in a cell with no freedom to leave, and no choice but to endure until she was released. If anything, she began to fear that the hired guards would treat her too gently, so that she would not even feel like she was at their mercy. She had phoned Doctor Kay to confirm her participation, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She had also taken care of a few duties, letting her family and friends know she would be away for a short while, on a course, she told them.


And now the day had arrived, when she must present herself once more at Dr. Kay’s office, and this time she would be forcibly taken and locked up for three days. Rachel barely slept the night before, and was up very early, preparing herself for the ordeal. First she bathed herself, shaving her legs and armpits carefully – for some reason she wanted to look her absolute best for this experience. On a sudden whim, she shaved her pubes as well, something she had not done for a long time; as she towelled off her crotch, the unfamiliar coolness felt extremely pleasant, and added to her sense of mounting excitement. Her hair she brushed back and tied into a simple ponytail.


She padded back into the bedroom, donned her best bra and knickers, and surveyed the clothes she had laid out on a chair. The printed instructions she had received said she would be issued with a prison uniform, but suggested she should turn up in comfortable clothing. Comfortable! The jeans, t-shirt and green hooded fleece she had put out the night before looked way too comfortable for her current excitable state of mind. She pictured herself being arrested and forced into a car wearing those jeans, and then pictured the same, but wearing instead a skirt, maybe quite a short one… her heart began to thunder at the thought. God, this was like the jitters she felt before a first date. Before she could change her mind, she opened a drawer and took out the shortest skirt she possessed; it was a skater skirt in black faux leather. She had ordered it on-line, but had never had the courage to wear it in public. She put it on; it sat quite high at the waist, where it was fairly tight, but then it flared dramatically and hung in loose pleats over her hips, extending down nearly to mid-thigh; it was undeniably sexy, probably too much so for the sober experiment she had volunteered to participate in. But Rachel ran her hands over the faux leather, smoothing it over her hips, and knew she would wear it, with simple black shoes, not heels. If she should happen to meet someone she knew on the way there, she would be embarrassed for sure, because she normally dressed quite modestly, but the chance of slight humiliation didn’t bother her when she thought of being forced into a car by uniformed men; she wanted to feel helpless and vulnerable in their power.


The t-shirt had to go; it was too baggy, and didn’t go with the skirt – she chose instead a sporty sleeveless top in black with white stripes; basically a vest with a racer back, which showed off her shoulders. Since this contained its own integral bra, she discarded her bra too. The top was slightly cropped, and although it came to below her ribs, it showed off a creamy slice of midriff when she stood up straight. She hoped she would be ordered to stand up straight…


Finally she grabbed her short grey hooded coat, and she was ready to go. Picking up her mobile, she stuffed it into the small rucksack she had already packed with her necessaries: sponge bag, towel, a couple of books, pyjamas, underwear and a track suit as a change of clothes because, well, you never know. She left her flat, her heart thudding in anticipation, already feeling slightly naked as the cool air of the stairway greeted her bare legs.

At least she has good fashion taste :rolleyes:
 
Part 3


“Come in, come in, Miss Barnes, put your bag down and have a seat.” Dr Kay was in a typically jovial mood as he waved her towards a chair beside his desk. He looked Rachel up and down briefly, but didn’t comment on her clothing. She sat and fidgeted, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt, and starting to wish she had worn the jeans after all. Sitting on the chair, she was in fact showing quite a lot of leg. Well, so be it, she had done it to herself. She thought about crossing her legs, but opted instead for pressing her knees together and leaning forward. The Doctor was rummaging in a cupboard behind the desk, bringing out a cardboard box.


“I want you to meet a friend of mine,” he said, opening the box and removing some bubble wrap, followed by what looked like a soft cycling helmet. “This will be your companion for the next few days; it holds the sensors which will monitor your brain activity during the project. We’re learning a lot by correlating data from sensor arrays like these with observed stimuli and emotions, and now we’re expanding into more…unusual areas of human experience, the possibilities are limitless...” He caught her doubtful expression. “Don’t worry, it’s much more comfortable than it looks.”


The device was made of pliable brown leather, and Dr. Kay showed her the electronics inside, including a tiny solid-state recording device that would store data over several days, and explained how it was worn. This Rachel had not expected, but she consented to let him place the soft helmet over her head to try it for size. More a series of straps than an actual head covering, it sat comfortably on her head, with even a gap for her ponytail to pass through; the Doctor gently pushed her hair through the hole, with apologies for touching her. He fussed with the straps that hung down at the sides, both in front of and behind Rachel’s ears, joining them together under her chin. There was a click as a catch was closed, and Rachel reached up to feel the fastening.


“If you could just leave that for now, that would be helpful,” said the Doctor, approaching her with a small electric cable in his hand, “let’s test and calibrate the sensors, if you’re willing?” She nodded; this was what she was here for after all, and they had told her that her brain activity would be monitored – how else were they going to do it? The helmet was a fairly tight fit, but not uncomfortably so, and she looked at the Doctor in helpless but mild embarrassment as he plugged the cable into a tiny socket at the top of the helmet, connecting Rachel’s head to the computer on his desk.


“Do I wear this all the time?” she asked.


“Hmmm?” the Doctor muttered, as he sat at his keyboard and adjusted various settings. “Now Miss Barnes, I need to observe some responses from you. Would you stand please.” She stood, smoothing her skirt down over her hips. Nothing happened for a few moments, though a quiet beep was heard from the monitor. “Doctor,” Rachel began, “do I...”


“Silence please. Sit down.”


His tone had become hard, though he was looking at the screen, not at her. She sat.


“Now stand. Remove your coat.”


“Um, Doctor….”


“Silence! Do as I say. Put your coat over the back of your chair. Put your bag on the chair too. Mind the cable.” His tone was peremptory.


She felt a moment of rebelliousness, but complied with his orders, being careful not to get anything tangled in the cable. Now he looked up from his computer, and stared at her coldly. “Push the chair back over there,” he pointed to one side of the room,” and then come and stand here,” he pointed to a spot just in front of his desk. “Do it now, and don’t speak”. He turned back to his screen as she reluctantly did so. What was this all about? Rachel now stood right in front of the Doctor, the hem of her skirt just above the level of his desk. Her bare midriff was level with the Doctor’s eyes, which flickered over her and then back to the screen, and again Rachel wished she had chosen the jeans and t-shirt. She felt extremely self-conscious.


There was a long pause. Rachel stood to attention in front of the desk, trying to remain still; her heart seemed to have other ideas, and pounded within her; it seemed impossible the Doctor would not hear it knocking at her ribs. She swayed slightly.


Dr. Kay looked up from his computer, pushed back his chair and stood, facing her; she struggled to meet his eyes. He moved round the desk until he was standing next to her.


“Keep facing the front. That’s good. Now, Miss Barnes” he said, clearly, ”… kneel.”


“Uh..what? Is this really…”


“Silence!” he roared. “Down on your knees, right now! Do it!”


“I’m not sure I …”


“Kneel!” the Doctor shouted, placing his hand on top of her head, and pushing downwards. She sank to her knees, bewildered by his sudden change of personality. Her adrenaline surged – he had pushed her, quite hard, to her knees. He glared at her for a moment, then returned to his chair and turned his attention back to the screen. After another beep from the computer, he smiled at her and said mildly, “Excellent Miss Barnes, we seem to have everything set up now, please stand up again. The calibration process is complete.”
 
Part 3


“Come in, come in, Miss Barnes, put your bag down and have a seat.” Dr Kay was in a typically jovial mood as he waved her towards a chair beside his desk. He looked Rachel up and down briefly, but didn’t comment on her clothing. She sat and fidgeted, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt, and starting to wish she had worn the jeans after all. Sitting on the chair, she was in fact showing quite a lot of leg. Well, so be it, she had done it to herself. She thought about crossing her legs, but opted instead for pressing her knees together and leaning forward. The Doctor was rummaging in a cupboard behind the desk, bringing out a cardboard box.


“I want you to meet a friend of mine,” he said, opening the box and removing some bubble wrap, followed by what looked like a soft cycling helmet. “This will be your companion for the next few days; it holds the sensors which will monitor your brain activity during the project. We’re learning a lot by correlating data from sensor arrays like these with observed stimuli and emotions, and now we’re expanding into more…unusual areas of human experience, the possibilities are limitless...” He caught her doubtful expression. “Don’t worry, it’s much more comfortable than it looks.”


The device was made of pliable brown leather, and Dr. Kay showed her the electronics inside, including a tiny solid-state recording device that would store data over several days, and explained how it was worn. This Rachel had not expected, but she consented to let him place the soft helmet over her head to try it for size. More a series of straps than an actual head covering, it sat comfortably on her head, with even a gap for her ponytail to pass through; the Doctor gently pushed her hair through the hole, with apologies for touching her. He fussed with the straps that hung down at the sides, both in front of and behind Rachel’s ears, joining them together under her chin. There was a click as a catch was closed, and Rachel reached up to feel the fastening.


“If you could just leave that for now, that would be helpful,” said the Doctor, approaching her with a small electric cable in his hand, “let’s test and calibrate the sensors, if you’re willing?” She nodded; this was what she was here for after all, and they had told her that her brain activity would be monitored – how else were they going to do it? The helmet was a fairly tight fit, but not uncomfortably so, and she looked at the Doctor in helpless but mild embarrassment as he plugged the cable into a tiny socket at the top of the helmet, connecting Rachel’s head to the computer on his desk.


“Do I wear this all the time?” she asked.


“Hmmm?” the Doctor muttered, as he sat at his keyboard and adjusted various settings. “Now Miss Barnes, I need to observe some responses from you. Would you stand please.” She stood, smoothing her skirt down over her hips. Nothing happened for a few moments, though a quiet beep was heard from the monitor. “Doctor,” Rachel began, “do I...”


“Silence please. Sit down.”


His tone had become hard, though he was looking at the screen, not at her. She sat.


“Now stand. Remove your coat.”


“Um, Doctor….”


“Silence! Do as I say. Put your coat over the back of your chair. Put your bag on the chair too. Mind the cable.” His tone was peremptory.


She felt a moment of rebelliousness, but complied with his orders, being careful not to get anything tangled in the cable. Now he looked up from his computer, and stared at her coldly. “Push the chair back over there,” he pointed to one side of the room,” and then come and stand here,” he pointed to a spot just in front of his desk. “Do it now, and don’t speak”. He turned back to his screen as she reluctantly did so. What was this all about? Rachel now stood right in front of the Doctor, the hem of her skirt just above the level of his desk. Her bare midriff was level with the Doctor’s eyes, which flickered over her and then back to the screen, and again Rachel wished she had chosen the jeans and t-shirt. She felt extremely self-conscious.


There was a long pause. Rachel stood to attention in front of the desk, trying to remain still; her heart seemed to have other ideas, and pounded within her; it seemed impossible the Doctor would not hear it knocking at her ribs. She swayed slightly.


Dr. Kay looked up from his computer, pushed back his chair and stood, facing her; she struggled to meet his eyes. He moved round the desk until he was standing next to her.


“Keep facing the front. That’s good. Now, Miss Barnes” he said, clearly, ”… kneel.”


“Uh..what? Is this really…”


“Silence!” he roared. “Down on your knees, right now! Do it!”


“I’m not sure I …”


“Kneel!” the Doctor shouted, placing his hand on top of her head, and pushing downwards. She sank to her knees, bewildered by his sudden change of personality. Her adrenaline surged – he had pushed her, quite hard, to her knees. He glared at her for a moment, then returned to his chair and turned his attention back to the screen. After another beep from the computer, he smiled at her and said mildly, “Excellent Miss Barnes, we seem to have everything set up now, please stand up again. The calibration process is complete.”

OMG....she just got there and she is thinking of wardrobe changes already ;)
 
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