Melinda soon realized that her local operation on the farm and the one in the city were just not large or sophisticated enough to handle the volume of traffic She was developing. What She needed was a facility that could function has a processing center for the bodies obtained and provided by her field staff which now numbered nearly two dozen. The required facility would have to have a legitimate reason for its operations and not cause undue attention. In short, it had to be secure, acceptable to the community, low key and clean in every sense. After considerable shopping for such real estate in North America, Melinda’s realtor found an empty factory in New York State. At one time, the site had been a test operation for an experimental power plant that consumed trash and other combustibles. Several different versions of the ultra high temperature furnaces had been built into one hillside. However, tests showed that toxic smoke and fumes from the furnaces were unacceptable. The site was closed and the company went bankrupt. The state acquired the property for unpaid taxes and offered it for sale at a very low price, but still had no takers, mostly because potential buyers knew New York’s propensity of enticing industry and then taxing it to death once it got established.
Melinda bought it through several shell corporations her attorneys arranged. The location was remote enough to keep most urban agencies at bay while also not giving the locals any need further for concern. After more surveys and inspections than She thought She could tolerate, Melinda's new factory was bought and paid for and the renovations begun. The disused buildings were old, but reasonably modern in design and were well-suited for what Melinda planned. The company had failed mostly because the promise of providing cheap electricity blinded investors to the hazards of burning waste materials without expensive cleansing and filtration, something the furnaces did not have. When the experimental operation could not adapt to new environmental regulations, the site was closed and remained so for many years because of soil pollution and some toxic materials that had been buried on the two hundred-acre site.
The factory main building had Four levels, two of which were below ground. As far as the contractors She initially hired were concerned, the double basements were useless, dark and damp with some water seepage because of the clay soil. Pumps were needed to keep water levels manageable. The simple solution was to install a permanent, low maintenance pump drainage system and seal off the two wet basements. Melinda insisted that even without occupancy, the cellars had to be kept dry because the moisture would impact the floors above ground. Remediation was done and the two cellars sealed off and locked. All research and fabrication operations were to be carried out on the ground floor with the upper floor being used for offices and shipping. Once this work was done and the contractors left, the real renovations began on the underground areas. Melinda hired local unemployed specialists who were more than happy to sign perpetual non-disclosure contracts which stipulated that they would continue to receive health care and educational benefits for their children for ten years after they left the work site if they kept their mouths shut. Any breach of these terms would end the cash bonuses and valuable perks. For people who were unemployed and living in near poverty, this was a deal no one turned down. The occasional blabbermouth wife or drunk was silenced, sometimes permanently, for potentially upsetting the community’s grand arrangement. This transactional accommodation worked well and Melinda got her structural and design improvements completed in record time.
The lowest level was rebuilt as a 100 percent secure, sound proofed, self-sustaining area for holding as many as a hundred slaves at one time. The actual basement was a twin-walled design that left space between the inner concrete wall and the foundation, providing drainage sumps which took care of the seepage. A few random and hidden rooms were left with access to the space between the walls. There was a purpose to this plan and Melinda saw it as a useful area to store uncooperative guests. Once locked and chained between the walls, the annoying guests were silent and suddenly more cooperative. The storage cells were tiny and the environmental equipment almost primitive, but this was mostly for making a strong initial impression on the people She would house there. Her contractors saw the basement as a storage facility which required good, dry security but which would house nothing of any special value. The rest of the factory soon took on a sterile and modern appearance which matched Melinda's plan for a genetic and medical research operation. It was this cover function that led to the acquisition of several new and useful, in not willing tenants very early in the factory’s operation.
Someone told Humans Against Animal Cruelty, (HAAC), about the new research facility and so, it was normal for the agency to investigate to make sure that no animals were being used in the research. Donna McIntosh and Randy Sullivan were the first (and last) HAAC representatives to visit the factory and the pair never left…at least they didn't leave in such a way that anyone would know them or who they were.
“What can I do for you?” Melinda asked the pair as they sat in her well furnished office on the top floor of the building.
“We want to inspect the plant to make sure you aren't using animals for tests or experiments,” Randy said, displaying his gold badge and sidearm with a bit of arrogance usually reserved, Belinda thought, for petty government bureaucrats.
“What do you need a gun for,” Melinda asked pointedly, nodding to the exposed automatic pistol on Randy’s hip.
“We’re authorized side arms for emergency situations,” Donna said quickly. “I have one too.”
“Well, good for you,” Melinda. I don’t think you’ll have a need for it here and our security will take those and return them when you leave.”
“Unfortunately,” said Randy, “you cannot do that.”
“Then good day,” Melinda, said curtly. Security will show you out.”
“We’ll come back with a warrant,” Donna said.
“You do that. Now get out before I have you arrested to trespassing and assault. Your having a gun makes your presence a threat and I will press charges, which should complicate your day a bit.”
“Okay, okay,” said Randy, suddenly looking contrite. “You can have the guns. But we still need to search the premises. To make sure no animals are being harmed.”
“We are working in theoretical research domains,” Melinda said pleasantly. “There is no use or need for live animals here…other than the occasional volunteer humans… and we have none.”
“We want to see for ourselves,” Donna pressed. She was well-dressed in a dark green woolen suit, cashmere, Melinda thought, with a white blouse and three buttons undone to expose a more than adequate cleavage and large, slightly pointed breasts housed in a lacy bra that didn't need to provide any real support. The entire outfit was intended, Melinda thought, to seduce males in any property She visited and they had probably not considered that the company would be run entirely by women.
“Other than this floor and shipping/receiving, the entire facility is closed to non-employees because of the need for secure and sterile work areas. One floor below us are dozens of sterile, clean rooms and you cannot enter them or even have access to that floor. I'm sorry…” Melinda said.
“We demand access,” Randy pressed.
“You will find,” Melinda said quietly, “that we are more inclined to accommodate visitors who refrain from making demands. If you will agree to our protocols, we will try to show you around, but you must cooperate or I will have you removed from the premises by security.”
“And we'll get an injunction that will stop your operations for months...” Randy responded angrily.
“Ah, there you go again, threatening us on our own property while we are trying to assist you,” Melinda said, leaning back in her chair and touching the security alarm button under the armrest.
“Will you accommodate us or not?” Donna shouted.
“Will you accept our terms for safety and security?” Melinda countered.
“Yes, of course. What do you want us to do?” Donna said.
/> At that moment, three security team members entered the office, stepped behind the annoying pair and quickly cuffed their wrists behind their backs.
“They’re armed, Georgia. Be careful. Take the weapons carefully. These people are nutty enough to maybe have a round in the chamber,” Melinda said. “They’ll be charged with assault with deadly weapons, trespass, and wearing green cashmere. Later we’ll come up with more serious charges if necessary.”
“You can't do this,” Randy shouted as one large female officer reached down, took the pistol from Randy’s holster and then forced a large rubber ball gag into his mouth. Randy rose from his seat only to have Georgia kick his legs out from under him. Randy went down to the floor in a heap, the back of his suit trousers ripping as he went. Two of the officers secured his legs with shackles and then turned to deal with Donna who was still struggling with Gwen, the third officer. In a few moments the two HAAC visitors were hog-tied securely on the office floor, well gagged and struggling against the cuffs on their ankles, wrists and elbows.
“Well, Mister Sullivan,” Melinda said. “You wanted a tour? You are about to see exactly what we can do here.” She turned to the security team and, motioning to the bound duo casually with her arm, said: “Strip them both slowly and carefully. Do a full cavity search, x-ray their dental work as well as their bodies, and use grade two enemas to clean them out internally as well. Check for hidden devices in the usual locations, remove their hair and inspect every inch of their bodies. Be especially careful about and scars or piercings. The broad gets an autocunt installed next week or whenever I have time. On second thought, put a cutter ring on his balls. That should entertain him for a few weeks. The dickhead will soon discover the joys of womanhood, so do no cosmetic damage to the merchandise. I want these two as a perfectly matched demo duo.
“It’s possible,” Melinda continued, “that they have some sort of transponders or signal generating devices, maybe even internal, so take your time and make sure they are fully deactivated. Let me know what you find. I will want a full report on their potential use to us. If it’s simply that we sell them, say so. If they have other uses and can be brought to a cooperative level in a short time, we can consider that. The furnace is always an option,” She concluded.
Even though the cellars were far from finished, the inquiring two snoops were quickly taken from the main offices, relieved of their personal possessions, stripped, and then, despite their objections, recuffed, chained, gagged and hooded before being strapped down and carried on gurneys to the lowest cellar where they were interred in two of the newly constructed steel cells on level X. By quitting time that afternoon, the terrified pair had agreeably signed several printed forms and other documents indicating that they had inspected the premises and found nothing of interest. They also signed and invisibly fingerprinted notes and letters confessing, among other things, their passionate and illicit love affair with each other and their decision to escape across the Canadian border and find a new life in the Yukon.
Melinda's security force disposed of the duo’s personal effects and rental car, all of which were instantly consumed in one of the massive furnaces, still being used to destroy debris and trash on the property. By nightfall, no evidence remained of the visiting inspectors except their muted moans that no one heard.
“I have a great plan for our uninvited guests,” Melinda told her staff the next day. “While their uninvited presence was premature, they will be treated to some of my latest surgical discoveries. Each of you, of course, will help. The little bitch, Donna appears to have a useful body, so I think she is going ultra dike and I mean ultra. Her dumbass, currently male, companion will supply the necessary organs and my superb surgical skill will fill in the rest.
“The bitch’s adequate tits will become Randy’s and his junk will join Donna’s crotch. The other stuff, like his Adam’s apple and her useless cunt, will fill in the gaps. I want this little transaction completed in eight months, so hop to it, everyone. Your in box will detail your particular obligations in this project. It will also indicate the rewards for being on or ahead of schedule in your area and will outline in detail which body parts you will give up if you are late or what you do is unacceptable. That is all. Dismissed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Capacity
“Shit,” muttered Eloise, the lead instructor at Melinda’s training compound. “Now She wants capacity figures. Have you ever done this, Bridge?” Eloise asked her number two as they studied the three elevated male asses displayed in front of them.
“Nope,” Bridget answered. “But I am willing to try. There’s a couple of ways this apparently gets done. We’ll just have to try each of them, keep track and give the Boss the whole tally.”
“Great,” said Eloise. “Lead me through this. You’re going to count the balls, right?”
“Right. You know that Hanna, the Dom I once worked with in LA, had it down to a science and she kept the records so that when one of her simpering half male subs came back, (and they always came back, believe me), she knew where to begin and that was usually where she left off the previous session.”
Eloise, juggling three of the heavy steel balls for a moment, said: “Excellent. Let’s give Mister State Inspector here the first shot. Want to use the ball bearings or the chain?”
“I like the bearings. They add another dimension of chance,” Bridget added.
“Chance, what’s the chance?” Eloise asked, still juggling the balls. “Every now and then one or two get lost up there and the then we have to plug the entry and wait to see what follows. Usually, it works its way back down the chute pretty quickly and then Mister Plugged Ass starts jumping around, begging to get some relief. Best I can recall, we had one who we forced to keep three of them heavies up there for about a week. He was crying the last three days and screaming when we took out his gag to feed him. As you can imagine, three of these big fuckers is a lot of weight to be carrying around, banging into your prostrate, for a week, ya know?”
“Yeah, I know,” said Bridget with a short laugh.
The two women, wearing the usual Training Instructor Uniforms, which were mostly rubber panties, bras and hose, pulled on their elbow length rubber gloves and stood one on either side of the whimpering State Health Inspector whose well-marked ass was conveniently elevated to the women’s waist level. He was strictly strapped to a heavy rounded bar with his head fastened to the floor on one side and his spread ankles strapped to floor rings on the other. He wore a shoe gag with an extreme pointed toe, a leather blindfold and his regular metal collar. His arms were parallel strapped behind him and pulled upwards to the collar, assuring no movement there.
“Okay, Mister Inspector,” Bridget said with another giggle. “Let’s see how many ball bearings you can absorb today. Here comes number one. You ready?”
Former State Environmental Inspector, Mark Flannigan, mumbled through the shoe gag, tried to shake his fettered head and puckered his shaven asshole, trying to will the two women not to proceed with the insertion of the large chromed steel ball that was now poised at the entrance to his rear door.
“Grease,” Eloise said to her companion.
Bridget slapped a stiff brush covered in white silicon jelly over the straining asshole and Eloise pressed the bearing down hard, using a substantial portion of her total body weight of one hundred twenty pounds to thrust the greasy bearing against the resisting sphincter. Eloise won the asshole battle quickly as the slippery globe popped into the inspector’s rear orifice and disappeared.
“Good for you, Asshole,” Eloise shouted, readying the second bearing.
“Grease,” Eloise shouted again and this time the bearing slid in with almost no resistance. Using her gloved middle finger, she went through the now unresisting rectal sphincter and pressed the second ball inside. She felt it contact the first. It did so with a noticeable click of metal on metal.
Inspector Mark groaned, twisted in his strapped position, his punished
cock slowly coming to full attention, and waited for the next…and the next.
Eloise stopped jamming steel balls into Flannigan after the last one, the sixth, popped back out, pretty much as had been expected. Back it went, driven with additional force as Flannigan’s lower body stretched painfully to accept the sixth intruder.
Six was a full load. Seven would have won Flanagan a few extra cuts on his strained thighs with a nearby switch. Eight was almost unheard of, but today was a time to discover exactly what each of these slaves could tolerate in their enema-emptied, four feet of large intestine. In three or Four weeks, Eloise and Bridget knew, the capacity would increase by at least two more balls and then the monster ass plugs would be stuffed into place and the chained pony slaves driven around the outdoor track for an hour or two to see who could survive this arduous training and brutal rectal invasion.
As his reward, Flannigan got his asshole plugged with an expandable rubber dong that was held in place with an expanding, locked, steel chastity plug. His now erect cock continued to swell to its full size.
“Uh uh,” Eloise said, griping the hard-on with her greasy rubber glove. “No one said you could send up the antenna. Bad dick, bad dick,” she scolded as she beat the stiff prick with a short, multi-tailed quirt until the erection ceased and the punished dick returned to its former reduced condition.
“Since you seem to like the balls up your ass,” Bridget said. “We are going to stuff your own testes up inside as well. This, Mister Big Shot, may not be easy with the load you already have tumbling around in there, but we’ll give it a try.”
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