Susan's first thought when she woke up was that it was dark.
It wasn't actually. The room was fairly well lit in fact, but it was painted in dark colors. She noticed that about the same time that she noticed she was tied to the table she was laying on. Other things her survey of her current situation noticed were that she was still dressed, and that the table was at an angle, so she was closer to standing then lying down.
"Are you awake yet? Good." The voice came from her side, and just behind her. She couldn't turn to face him, so his walking into her field of view was helpful for her next act.
"Let me go!" She yelled into his face.
"Not quite yet. I've got plans for you." He replied.
Susan tried to place him. Not that she was likely to know him: She had only arrived on the island yesterday (or, she hoped it was yesterday) afternoon, and had barely done anything but check into her hotel. Last thing she remembered, she was falling asleep in her hotel bed.
He picked up a big needle. "I'd like you to meet someone. Or something, more accurately." He brought the syringe closer so she could see the little brown blob floating in the clear liquid. "I call her Eve. You and her are going to get to know each other."
He put the needle down, and started preparing her arm, wiping it down with alcohol, and tying it off so the veins would protrude. "Eve is a symbiont, or possibly a parasite, depending on how you look at it. She's genetically engineered: I designed her."
The mad scientist continued. "I've done some testing in animals, but you'll be the first human test of my new life form. I thought you might want to know a bit about it."
"First off, it is communal, like bees. The 'queen,' — Eve here, for instance — will take up residence on a female's pituitary gland. She will completely cover the gland, and quickly takes over all it's functions. From there she starts breeding workers and sending out nerve fibers to the rest of the brain. Most of her nourishment she gets directly from the host's bloodstream, but she does eat parts of the brain slowly, as she integrates what she can of their functions."
"The workers spread out. They do two things: They help the host's body survive by helping repair it and aiding the immune system. Secondly they help the host attract other hosts to spread the parasite. Since the species spreads through the host's sexual contact, this means it will help you look — and smell — sexy. Your breasts will grow at least one size, possibly two, plus they will keep you fit and keep body fat percentage down. This in addition to the anti-aging effects they give by keeping the host's body in good repair." He winked at Susan. "Youth and beauty, the two things every woman wants, right?"
"They spread, as I've noted, by sexual contact. The colony sets up a lining in the host's vagina, and implants eggs on anything suitable inserted there. The lining isn't noticeable without medical knowledge, to either the host or any of her partners. It does have the side benefit of completely preventing STD's."
"I'm sure you are telling yourself now that you'll just not have sex until you can get cured. Well, the parasite doesn't want that, so it will be making some changes. Since she controls your hormone levels, you'll find avoiding sex extremely difficult. Especially since she also will create connections directly to your pain and pleasure centers to encourage actions she wants."
He was preparing the syringe now, and Susan was just reeling in shock at the plan laid out before her. "You'll spread the parasite, Eve will see to that." Susan could only watch as he injected the parasite into her immobilized arm. "Well, I'm going to leave you alone now. It will take a couple of days for Eve to really settle in, and I want to watch the process, so I'll be holding you until then. I'll be in and out; we can answer the questions you have another time."
With that he left the room. As Susan heard the door behind her shut, the straps holding her to the platform released themselves.
The room she was in was tiny. Just barely big enough for the platform she'd been on and the table that the... 'doctor'... had rolled away when he left.
There were two doors: the closed one, that the 'doctor' had left through, and another that stood open. For the lack of anything better to do, Susan went through the other one.
The room beyond was a full suite, much like the one she'd gotten at the hotel. A king-sized bed dominated the room, plus a couch, and a hot-tub. There was a bathroom attached, and a TV set into the wall. No windows though, and the door she had come through had shut behind her.
She was being way to calm about this. Susan spent a moment wondering about this as a wave of lethargy washed over her, and she fell asleep.
Susan had spent the twenty minutes since she'd woke up again trying to panic. She'd surveyed the very comfortable room she'd found herself in more thoroughly, and found little more than her first impression. The only really new piece of information was that the closet was filled with her clothes, that should have still been in her suitcase.
The door opened, and the 'mad doctor', as Susan had come to think of him, entered pushing a cart of food. "How are you feeling?"
Susan ran up and tried to attack him, but it was no more than an intellectual exercise; she knew she was angry, but she didn't feel angry, and her attack was feeble. He overpowered her easily, and pushed her into a chair.
"Now there, no use fighting me. Especially not right now, while Eve's still getting used to you. Here, eat: you haven't had anything in almost a day."
"I'm not hungry." Susan said, truthfully.
"I know you aren't, but you do need food. Eve will get your hunger responses back to normal soon."
"So I'm not hungry because of that bug you put in my head."
"Exactly. Hunger is a hormonal response, governed by the pituitary gland. Eve is blocking it until she integrates with your neurosystem."
"And anger? Panic?"
"She doesn't have direct control over those, but the area she is in does control what controls them." He smiled a predatory smile. "Face it, Eve controls you. Now, do you have any questions?"
Susan had found her watch among her things. She checked it at the mention of how long she'd been a captive, and it appeared right. She'd started nibbling on the food in front of her: Sooner or later she would need food.
Two questions had been bugging her. "Why me?" Was the first.
"I want my symbiont spread. You are likely to do that: You are attractive, single, and travel a lot both for business and pleasure. Under Eve's influence, you'll spread the symbiont far and wide quite quickly."
The second question was the big one. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
He smiled like a pet had just performed his favorite trick. "I was wondering when you'd get to that. I have no grand visions of ruling the world or anything: I just think women should put out more."
Susan desperately needed to get furious at that, and felt cheated that she couldn't. "But what about men? What happens to the men this thing infects?"
"Oh, don't worry. The adult form of the parasite can't live in testosterone, though the eggs need a bit of it to develop properly. I don't want the human race entirely subdued by these things. It'd wipe us out. It'll put out a few more pheremones, help carriers attract new subjects, but that's it."
"So... So... This is just designed to turn women into sexpots? That's the whole point?"
"Yep. And you're the first. Think of it: You are going to change the human race." He patted Susan on the head as he got up. It took her a moment to realize he was leaving, and she was trapped behind the push-cart so she couldn't get to the door before it closed again behind him.
She slumped against the door. She wanted to cry, to pound her hands against the door, to feel something about this. But the 'bug' in her head prevented it. That was really the worst part: Being forced to consider this calmly and unemotionally, as her own body was turned against her.
She thought about trying to kill herself. It wouldn't take much, really. He had done nothing to prevent it.
But what exactly would that do? It probably wouldn't even inconvenience him much: He'd just make some other poor girl his test subject. And he could dispose of her with ease. For that matter, he probably would notice and be able to rescue her. The end result would probably be nothing besides the fact that she would be put in less comfortable surroundings.
She walked back to the couch and watched TV until she fell asleep.
Susan woke up starving. Her watch told her it was morning, and the remains of the food the doctor had left were still there; she dug in eagerly. When she finished she got off the couch and went to clean herself up in the bathroom area.
The thought occurred to her that she was probably being watched, but she needed to use the toilet. Still, she decided to keep the same set of clothes on, and re-dressed quickly.
When she came out the door to the other room was open. Susan approached cautiously. She was relieved to feel her adrenaline pumping.
There was no one there, but there was more food. She decided to wedge the cart in the door before going through.
She'd gotten the food back into the suite when she heard a large crunch behind her. She almost dropped the tray when she turned and saw the door had gone straight through the cart.
Well, she wasn't going to be able to prop that door open. And she was going to remember not to try to cut it too close either. She sat and ate her food.
At least this doctor could cook.
The worst part of this, Susan reflected a few hours later, is that there is nothing to do. She could basically watch TV or think about the situation she was in. Or both. She looked over at the hot tub, which had gone unused. She felt grungy from being in the same clothes for a day and a half, and stressed from the situation.
"Fuck it." She said to herself, and went to get her swimsuit.
Her first surprise was that she could actual breathe better the moment she took her bra off. A quick look down provided the answer why: As threatened, her breasts had grown. Enough that they no longer fit in the bra she had been wearing.
The second surprise was how good it felt to get her clothes off. And how good it felt to realize the doctor could probably see her. A part of her wanted to show off, to let him see and look. To make him want her.
No, Susan corrected herself. Not 'a part of herself'. 'Eve'. The thing in her head. It wanted her to make him want her. She put on her swimsuit and walked to the hot tub, forcing herself not to sway.
Still, she couldn't say she minded that the only swimsuit she'd packed was her string bikini.
Susan didn't see the doctor again until supper time. She was still wearing her bikini top: none of her bras fit, but the design of the bikini meant it still did, if she re-tied it. She'd just managed to get blouse over it.
A few moment's in the mirror after her soak had confirmed that most of the small patches of sag or fat she'd accumulated had evaporated. The doc was probably right if he thought some women would welcome those effects. Even Susan didn't mind them.
He wheeled in another cart (she'd pushed the rest of the first one into the other room when the door opened with lunch) in with supper. "So, how are you doing today?"
Susan had thought about trying to attack him again today — her emotions were back, and she might just be able to fight — but when she saw him she was glad she'd decided not to. Not because he'd armed himself.
Because the instant arousal she felt when looking at him told her that her 'attack' would have had a different focus than she intended.
She kept the lust out of her demeanor: It wasn't hers, and Susan was not going to fall for it if she could help it. "I'm doing fine, for someone locked in a room."
"Fair enough. Any questions?" He pushed the cart in front of her.
"A couple have occurred to me. In your plan, where all the women in the world are turned into fucktoys," She really hated how good that sounded at the moment, "what do you intend to do about the population explosion? Women do get pregnant if they have sex all the time."
"Oh, I have thought of that: The symbiont acts as a contraceptive, at least in stage one. Only after it has decided it's host is loosing it's effectiveness as an infection agent does it proceed to stage two and allow pregnancies to occur. And even then, it make sure you don't have children too close together, and will abort about half the boys. There'll be a small population boom, but it should quickly stabilize."
"So every guy will be able to have a little harem of his own in your perfect world?"
He smiled. "Yes. And most women will still only have one or two children. Population control will be automatic."
"For any of this to work, you are going to have to let me go. I'll tell someone."
"No you won't. By the time you leave here, you'll do anything to protect Eve."
"And how will you know that I'm ready?"
He leaned in close, and Susan almost closed her eyes in preparation for a kiss. "Because you'll beg for me to fuck you." And with that he turned and left, the door shutting right behind him.
Susan sat there a moment, trying to force herself to believe that wasn't a good idea. Trying to force herself to eat the food in front of her. Trying to forget how horny the doctor's presence had made her.
Eventually she turned out the lights, crawled under the sheets, and pushed her hand inside her pants, just to relieve the itch.
It didn't work: She could make herself feel more aroused, but not enough to orgasm. Eventually she fell asleep, frustrated.
The next day passed much like the last. Her breasts had grown again, probably another full size. Her nice, B-cup chest was probably now a full D-cup. She'd need new clothes: The only top she had along that fit at all was the bikini top. And it didn't really 'fit': it was just that she could adjust it to cover her nipples and stay on without crushing herself. A top that had been support and cover for her breasts a few days ago was now just a couple of triangles of cloth perched over her tits.
Susan had had to change pants in the morning: the pair she'd slept in were sticky and uncomfortable. She wished she could air the room out as well; but the scent of her exertions the night before would have to stay.
She both looked forward to and dreaded when the doctor would come again. Look forward to because it was a break from the monotony of her prison room. Dreaded because she knew it would take everything she had to keep herself under control.
It was as bad as she thought. She found herself leaning forward, emphasizing her new cleavage almost without thinking about it. Her panties were rapidly getting soaked, just sitting there.
"How are doing today?" He said, after walking across the room to where she was attempting to ignore him.
"Um..." She took a deep breath. She would not flirt with him. "I am fine. No questions today."
He paused, looking at her. She forced herself to concentrate on her food. "Ok then. See you tomorrow."
She watched him leave, out of the corner of her eye.
The moment the door shut she felt a bolt of pain engulf her entire body. For a timeless moment she was in agony.
Then it passed, and all she felt was the arousal his presence had brought in her. It still pulsed in her, driving her thoughts, stronger than the day before. Before she knew it, she'd stripped out of her pants and was lying on the bed, trying to fuck herself. The thought that he was sure to be watching this wanton display brought a wave of pleasure, and she almost came.
A tiny part of her admitted what it would take to finally come again as she drifted of to a frustrated sleep.
Susan's third day of confinement was torture. Her arousal had not gone down overnight, and being continuously horny was doing things to her mind. She kept her mind away from the fact that the doctor could probably watch her every move, as every time the thought crossed her mind she just got more horny.
At least her body had stopped changing. Her breasts were the same size as yesterday, and nothing else had changed much. It had just firmed up and toned; Susan knew she hadn't looked so good since high school. Even then, actually: In high school she'd had to worry about zits and braces. Neither were a problem now.
She tried to watch TV. To get her mind off her situation. Off her confinement, off this mad plan, off what was happening to her.
It didn't work that well; by mid-day she'd already found herself masturbating without thinking about it twice. It wasn't that her hands wouldn't obey her, it was just that? They couldn't find anything better to do.
After lunch she tried to get herself off in the hot tub, and almost drowned herself.
She summoned the last of her willpower as the time for supper rolled around. It didn't matter how much her body was telling her she wanted to fuck him silly; she was not going to give in to him. Not if she had any say in it. He could probably take her without her being able to resist, but she was not going to ask for it.
"How are you doing today."
Susan turned her frustration into a good simulation of anger. "As you expected." She spat at him.
"Eve is doing her job?"
"Yes. But she doesn't control me."
Susan turned to her food, pointedly ignoring him. She felt a light stab of pain.
The doctor turned to leave.
A wave of pain washed over Susan. "No?" It was a moan.
He turned back. "Yes, Susan?"
The words sent a wave of pleasure through Susan. "I?"
"What do you want, Susan?"
Her body knew what it needed. But her mind told her it wasn't what she wanted. "I? I want you to leave." She doubled over in pain as the words left her mouth.
He looked down at her. "If that is what you want." He turned to leave again. Through the haze of growing pain Susan watched him take two steps towards the door.
He was almost at it when she gave in to the pain. "Wait." The pain lifted, held in abeyance until Susan proved she would obey the thing in her head. "Don't go."
This time he just tilted his head, and raised an eyebrow in question. Susan said nothing.
"Do you have a question, Susan?"
The sound of his voice was a whiplash of arousal. "No, no question. I? Fuck me."
"What was that?"
"You heard me. I can't stand it any longer! Fuck me!"
"I don't think I like your tone." He turned to go, and the pain slammed back down, intensified.
"Nooo? I? Please." She had dropped the floor in pain; she stayed there now. "I need you inside me. Please, I'll do anything, be anything, just fuck me, please." She was sobbing, begging for her sanity. Begging for sex.
He smiled, a predatory smile. "I don't know. You've been a bad girl, resisting so long. How can I be sure you want this now?"
Susan almost tore her bikini top off in her haste. Her skirt followed. She knelt at his feet, and used her hands to present her breasts to him. "Please. I need to be fucked." She gulped a breath of air. "This sextoy needs to be used."
With every act, every word, pleasure was spreading through her.
He reached down, and stroked the side of Susan's face. She sighed in ecstasy.
Inside her mind, Susan was at war with herself. She knew she couldn't stand the pain she would feel if she resisted, and the pleasure his touch brought was indescribable, but a part of her still knew this wasn't right. A new part of her was in control now, though: A part that said it didn't matter if this was right, if this was what she wanted. It was needed, something necisary, something she must do to survive. Perhaps tomorrow she could resist again, but not now. Not tonight. Tonight her body, and the parasite she was hosting, were in control.
This part of her mind pushed the rest back as it argued that she should put up a fight, that she should at least not be crawling towards him, tounge out, like some sort of dog. That being pushed bodily back into the bed was not a the indescribably erotic foreplay it felt like. That it was pain, not pleasure, she should be feeling as he twisted her arms behind her.
Then he entered her, and every part of her was forced to accept that this was pleasure, above and beyond anything she had ever felt, or dreamed of feeling. That bliss could be formed into liquid, and poured through her, erasing all else.
Beyond the wash of pleasure of finally obeying the symbote's wish, Susan barely noticed her own orgasm.