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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: "Gymnasium" - A TYTC Episode [M+~TeenF+, celeb, nc]
Date: Thu,  4 Jul 2002 04:10:04 -0400
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The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners. Any resemblance to persons either alive or
dead is purely coincidental. This story is intended for ADULTS only.
If you are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction,
or if you are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

Gymnasium - by - The StoryMaster - another TYTC Story

The heavy double doors hissed open, and Keri was immediately ushered
inside.

"Eyes to the front, Miss Jensen," the attendant on her left ordered.

The doors whispered shut behind the threesome.

Just over a week had passed since Keri was abducted and imprisoned in
the "House of Horrors" as she privately referred to her present
lodgings.  At first the obstinate eighteen year old had defied her
captors at every opportunity, but lately she'd learned to pick her
battles.  Although she fully expected to be rescued and set free from
this madness very soon - her fiancé was a federal agent and would no
doubt be searching diligently for her - Keri wasn't a stupid girl.
There were many more of them, these demons in white, than she could
ever hope to defeat singlehandedly, and they appeared capable of just
about anything, including rape and torture, a fact that Keri quickly
discovered first hand.  

"Guests!" she thought sneeringly.  The depraved monsters had the
unmitigated gall to refer to her and the few other miserable female
captives she'd encountered as Guests, even as they took turns with
her.  Three days ago Keri had refused to submit to being bathed in
front of a room full of the white clad perverts, and as punishment
she'd been gang raped by at least six of them.

"She'd won that battle," the headstrong young woman thought grimly.
By the time the group finished with her, most of the audience had left
the room and Keri'd only had to endure the humiliation of being
scrubbed, inside and out, by her Handler, Anthony, with the help of
one other who's name escaped her.

"Handlers, the depraved men called themselves," Keri reflected, "and
handle her they most certainly did."  Anthony, who seemed to have
taken a special interest in Keri, exhibited no compunction
what-so-ever about touching her or violating her in any number of
ways, nor did any of his unprincipled colleagues.  In fact, at any
time, any one of the fiends dressed in white coveralls felt perfectly
justified in wantonly defiling her person, and should Keri challenge
them in any way, she would immediately be subjected to further
atrocities.  

Keri shuddered as she recalled the incident in the shower room.  No
sooner had she opened her mouth and angrily refused her tormentors the
pleasure of humiliating her in front of more than a dozen people,
Keri found herself flat on her back on the cold tile floor.  She'd
struggled valiantly, but there had simply been too many of them.  She
remembered hearing one of them yell something about a "GCO" or the
like and ask for volunteers while another man tied a kind of a bar
device to her ankles.  Then seconds later Keri lay surrounded by a
crush of white coveralls.  Her legs were spread and held widely apart
by the telescoping bar.  All around her Keri heard the telltale sounds
of zippers being lowered, and before she knew it, one of the demons in
white was in her.  

It wasn't the first time Keri'd been raped since being interned in the
"House of Horrors", and like that first time she did her best to
impede the man's progress, by thrashing her body wildly from side to
side and bucking her hips violently.  However, much like her earlier
experience, her efforts proved ineffective.  One after another the men
mounted her, had their way with her and finished by inseminating her.
Moreover, during the entire ordeal, from a kneeling position at her
shoulders, the Handler named Anthony spoke to her calmly and
succinctly, coaching her, directing her to remain silent and to look
her attackers in the eye as well as a number of other unspeakable
suggestions having to do with her female anatomy and overall
technique.

By her third or fourth partner, Keri ceased her struggles, partly
because she was exhausted, but mostly because of the cold dismay that
gradually crept into her soul as a result of the prolonged and
methodical assault upon her person.  The way each man introduced
himself before proceeding, and then found it necessary to make graphic
comments about her intimate anatomical prowess during his time with
her, was utterly debasing and dehumanizing.  

In fact, it was the perverse courtesy with which these men went about
their loathsome deeds that Keri detested most of all during her short
time "in residence" thus far.  Keri Jensen was a girl of strong
character, and she would somehow find the fortitude to survive the raw
brutality of the Handlers' treatment of her.  However, the politeness
and civility with which the men in white conducted themselves while
they molested her imparted a sense of legitimacy to their vile acts,
creating a kind of perverse oxymoron which assaulted Keri's basic
concepts of right and wrong - of acceptable and unacceptable.

Keri shuddered at the thought.  "She'd won that battle," she reminded
herself in an effort to ward off the creeping feeling of helplessness.
She squared her shoulders and stood between her two large escorts,
gazing resolutely ahead at the gripping scene before her.

The room was gigantic.  Keri estimated the far wall to be a good fifty
feet distant.  It was difficult for her to ascertain the chamber's
breadth, however, for not wishing to provoke a reprisal from one of
her attendants, Keri kept her eyes focused straight ahead like she'd
been instructed to do.  In front of her and to either side to the
limits of her peripheral vison Keri Jensen beheld a veritable tumult
of activity.

Other than two large, square columns near the center of the room, the
floor of the TYTC Gymnasium was unbroken.  The sixty by eighty foot
facility housed an astonishing collection of specialty apparatus
arrayed about the main floor, as well as other sundry equipment
mounted here and there around the four walls.  Spaces along the walls
not given over to apparatus were mirrored as was most of the ceiling
which added to the chamber's overall appearance of vastness.  

Everywhere there was activity as shining stainless steel engines
performed their individual tasks.  Having spent a good deal of time
working out at the Health Club near her home, many of the sights and
sounds were familiar to her.  Keri Jensen, like most attractive young
females, was acutely aware of her appearance and invested several
hours each week maintaining that which had granted her so many
advantages in life.  The clack and clang of iron weights, even the
tangy odor of perspiration in the cool air reminded Keri of the spa
back home.   However, upon closer inspection most of these perceived
similarities would soon evaporate.

To the right of the broad central aisle, for example, was arranged a
row of what appeared to be Nautilus Equipment, at least at first
glance.  Yet as Keri studied the various machines more closely, she
began to pick out features and appendages clearly designed to serve
one purpose.   Nearby stood a stainless steel contrivance that
resembled an Aerodyne style "excer-cycle".  Similar, except that the
foot pedals were positioned widely apart, and in place of the caged
resistance fan a shining steel cylinder was aligned horizontally
between the pedals.  Extending from this cylinder was a shaft that
pointed in the direction of the "excer-cycle" seat.  Keri hugged
herself unconsciously as she stared with growing revulsion at the
sinister machines.  

These nearby apparatus stood temporarily unused.  Others were not, and
even the slight odor of perspiration she'd smelled upon her arrival
now seemed tainted with an unusual, yet somehow familiar musky aroma.
Without turning her head, Keri let her eyes scan around the room.
With the exception of the few pieces of equipment to her right, the
rest of the facility was a bee hive of activity.  Unclothed female
bodies lay across shining machines in motion.  Others stood before or
sat upon apparatus who's function could only be guessed at from a
distance, and intermingled within this sea female flesh, aglow with
perspiration, moved the Handlers clad in their customary gleaming
white coveralls.  

It was then that Keri first noticed the muted undertone in the room.
 From all around her came faint visceral grunts and distinctly carnal
groans as well as the unmistakable soft slapping sounds of flesh
against flesh.  Occasionally an authoritative male voice rose above
these ambient background noise and uttered a command.  "Silence, Miss
Baker!" or "Look at me, young lady!"  

Keri suddenly felt ill as she gazed upon the reprehensible scene. "How
many women are being held prisoner in this mad house?" she wondered in
horror.  Silently Keri vowed that she would find a way to bring
justice to bear upon the detestable men in white coveralls, and in
particular the man named Rick Adams.  Even the monstrous Anthony, who
personally directed the majority of the atrocities performed upon Keri
was merely a peon in this institution of madmen.  Anthony, like all
the rest, took his orders from Rick Adams, the man they called the
Headmaster, and it was Rick Adams whom Keri held responsible for her
abduction and torment.  It was Rick Adams who would be the primary
recipient of Keri's retribution.  

Standing naked between the two large, well trained men, Keri Jensen
envisioned the raid that her fiancé and his team of lethal special
agents would visit upon Mr. Rick Adams and his beastly band of
perverts.  "Some of them might `accidentally' be killed," she mused.
"I just hope Mr. Adams is one of those `accidents'!"

So wrapped up in dark visions of revenge and mayhem was Keri, that she
failed to notice the man until he was practically standing in front of
her.  In fact she was jolted back to reality only when Anthony said,
"Good morning, Coach."

"Anthony," the man responded with a curt nod as he stepped in front of
Keri.

Keri Jensen was tall for a female, and at five-ten and a half, she was
nearly a full head taller than the man standing in front of her now,
but in spite of his small stature, it was immediately evident to Keri
that this man was not one to be toyed with.  For one thing, he was
very powerfully built, his shoulders being nearly as broad as his
diminutive height of approximately five feet, five inches.  The man's
arms were nearly as big around as Keri's thighs, and beneath his
leathery skin well toned muscles rippled.  His barrel chest tapered
quickly to a trim waist, and that was as far down as Keri wanted to
look for the time being.

The Coach, as he was known by his colleagues and Guests alike, had
been with The Youth Training Center since its inception, and when Adam
North, the founder and original Headmaster of the Center retired, the
Coach became its most tenured employee.  He'd seen a lot of changes
over the years, that much was certain, and he'd had a hand in the
development of some marvelous new technology.  He'd survived and gone
on to play a key role in rectifying the EFIRS debacle and subsequent
recalls.  He'd witnessed the demand for enlightened females wax and
wane, and he'd seen tastes fluctuate from older girls, to younger and
back again.  But virtually unique among the ranks of the TYTC
Handlers, the Coach could honestly say that he'd personally played a
significant part in the conditioning program of each and every young
lady to join the TYTC family.

The idea of a building facility where Guests could train and practice
was his, originally.  The TYTC Gymnasium was inaugurated in the fall
of 1990, almost four years after the Center's grand opening in 1986,
and since that day, under the Coach's patient tutelage, young ladies
of all ages and from all walks of life have been afforded a means by
which they might improve upon their natural, God given talents.

The Coach enjoyed a reputation for austerity, however, like every man
in the employ of The Youth Training Center, he was neither violent nor
cruel.  There were those who in jest insisted that he was getting
"soft in his old age", and perhaps he had "mellowed" a bit over the
years.  There was no question, however, that The Coach took his job
very seriously.  When a young lady came to his gymnasium, she was
there to better herself, and it was his business to help her to
develop and achieve a specific set of goals.  His methods were direct,
and he brooked no arguments, and as a result his successes were
legendary.  The Coach was nothing short of a mainstay to the TYTC
program and was held in high esteem by all of his peers.  

The Coach remained silent for a long while, taking the opportunity to
study his newest protege.  "Another old woman," he thought, shaking
his head.  "And judging from the look on her face and the way she
carries herself, she's going to be a handful.  Why anyone would want
to go to all the trouble to get this one to cooperate is beyond me,
but if that's what the customer wants..." 

The Coach, like many of his colleagues, believed that young ladies in
their early teens or younger are far more receptive to suggestion and
conditioning.  Much past the age of fourteen, possibly fifteen if she
comes from a rural community, most females become difficult to reach.
At fifteen or sixteen they tend to develop a more defined sense of
self, and in addition, by their middle to late teenage years they have
usually internalized much of the societal indoctrination they've been
exposed to for most of their lives.  The simple fact that older
subjects must first "unlearn" a great deal before they can take their
first baby steps along the road to "right thinking" should be enough
of a deterrent, but if that doesn't convince you then consider this:  

More often than not, as young females approach sexual maturity, they
instinctively start to position themselves for mating, and they can
become quite ruthless in their efforts to find and secure [control] a
suitable partner.  Far more serious, however, is the fact that during
this winnowing process the female, left to her own devices, can
realize a sense of power over her unsuspecting male counterpart.
Eventually she will discover "the power of pretty" and soon she'll
start to use this new found source of influence in her day to day
dealings with her fellow man.  As isolated instances these power plays
seem trivial, except of course, to the unfortunate person on the
receiving end.  Syndicate them, however, and pass this conduct along
from one generation to the next, and we have the basis for the
feminization of our society.

"Start `em young while they're impressionable and willing," had always
been the Coach's philosophy, but there were those who disagreed.  "The
sense of accomplishment one experiences by guiding an errant young
lady back to the pathways of enlightenment certainly cannot be
denied," they will argue.  It's easy to see then why an ongoing debate
on this subject exists among the professional men and women of The
Youth Training Center.

Keri did her best to maintain her composure as the stocky little man
looked her up and down.  In spite of her uneasiness, Keri maintained
and air of confidence, returning the man's appraising stare with
calmness and poise.  One thing she noticed during their reciprocal
examination of each other was that this guy, the Coach, Anthony had
called him, wasn't dressed in the usual white coveralls like everybody
else in the "House of Horrors".  Instead he wore grey sweat pants and
a grey sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off at the shoulders.  "All he
needs is a whistle on a lanyard around his neck and he'd even look
like a coach," Keri mused, trying not to laugh at her own witticism.
Then as though the man had somehow read her thoughts, he smiled.  It
was a discerning smile devoid of warmth or compassion, and although
his lips smiled, his eyes did not.  An unexpected chill crawled up
Keri's spine as she stared briefly into eyes the color of ice water,
before she was obliged to look away.  "Had she totally misread the
man?" she wondered.

"I hope we enjoyed our private little joke, my dear," the Coach spoke
with his eyes.  "I'll wager that you've engaged in a lot of secret
shenanigans over the years, and probably at the expense of some
unlucky young man."  She was certainly the type he concluded.  

"Keri Jensen," the Coach recalled from his preliminary scan of her
file was just over eighteen years of age.  She came from good stock
and had no doubt been well schooled by her mother in the art of
wielding the "Power of Pretty".  According to her records Miss Jensen
had engaged in a number of relationships throughout her junior high
and highschool years, a few of which had unquestionably been
relationships of opportunity.  One such pairing with a mathematics
teacher when she was fifteen and a half had backfired and cost Keri
her virginity, but in the end she'd gotten the passing grade, and the
young man she'd supposedly been dating at the time was never the
wiser.  

Her current love interest, one Jeffery Baldwin, was a Special Agent
with the FBI, and unbeknownst to Miss Jensen he'd made the
arrangements for his lovely but overbearing girlfriend to spend some
time at a remarkable and highly clandestine "rehabilitation center".
It cost him a fortune, but the contract stated unequivocally that upon
her return, his fiancé would be both obedient, and accommodating.  Two
days following the receipt of Agent Baldwin's check, Miss Keri Marie
Jensen arrived at The Youth Training Center.

"I suppose she is an attractive thing," the Coach reflected, looking
the young lady over with an eye toward her physique.  "Tall girl," he
remarked to himself.  "But nicely proportioned...  Broad shoulders,
slender waist, sturdy hips.  All in all a reasonably serviceable
figure," he concluded.  "Tits could present a "free-rad" problem," the
Coach resolved, making a mental note to include a memo in her file.
"Flat stomach, long legs and nicely appointed in the genital area," he
observed.  Then as he glanced up at her face, his cool, discerning
smile returned.  "Handsome face with an accommodating mouth," he
thought, observing the blush of color in the girl's neck and cheeks.
"In summation she's a reasonably attractive female, and baby don't we
know it!" the Coach muttered under his breath, noting the high degree
of self-consciousness she exhibited.

Keri was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as she was forced to
endure the man's scrutiny.  Despite her efforts to remain in control
and keep her emotions in check, she sensed the blood rushing to her
face when she felt his eyes settle on what used to be the most private
parts of her body.  

Keri blushed all the hotter when she recalled how earlier that morning
yet another man dressed in white whom she'd never before laid eyes on,
got the job of trimming her sandy brown pubic curls.  Keri had a
rather full coat down there, and had recently undergone fairly
extensive electrolysis to remove unwanted hair from her inner thighs
as well as a stripe of coarser, darker curls that ran from her belly
button to the top of her pubis mons.  The procedure had cost Keri a
lot of money, but it was well worth it since it enabled her to wear
the more seductive, thong style swimming suits with only a minimal
amount of personal maintenance.  Keri's "hair stylist" that morning
had trimmed her a lot closer than she would have, herself.  So close,
in fact, that her prominent mons and heavy labia majora were now
clearly visible beneath the remaining sparse covering.  
Keri felt even more exposed than usual and was very tempted to turn
away as the Coach studied her closely.  Out of the corners of their
eyes, her two attendants watched the embarrassed young woman carefully
for any signs of refusal, but so far she was behaving herself.  Then
the Coach uttered the words that Keri had been silently dreading.

"Good morning, young lady," he said, making eye contact with her.

Keri hesitated for perhaps three seconds.  She knew what was expected
of her, but nonetheless the attractive teenager loathed this
particular routine, perhaps more than any other atrocity the demons in
white chose to subject her to.  It was called "The Standard Greeting",
and Keri and the other Guests were required to submit to the hateful
procedure often many times a day.  Early on the obstinate teenager had
summarily refused to cooperate, prompting reprisals which quickly
added to Keri's life list of intimate partners.  But as traumatic as
those early experiences had been, even gang rape was somehow
preferable to being so casually handled against her will. 

If the truth be known, this was a common reaction among the Guests,
making the Standard Greeting one of the most effective tools in use
today to gradually erode a young lady's self-image; a necessary
process along the road to recovery.  

"Good medicine rarely tastes good," the Coach liked to say.

Two days ago Keri's life underwent another significant change when
Anthony and a second Handler escorted her to a special room located
somewhere deep within the House of Horrors.  There she'd been strapped
into a diabolical chair with no bottom.  Then without so much as a how
do you do, a third man had pushed an unspeakable object up into her
backside.  For the rest of that day and part of the next, Keri had
barely been able to walk without help.  Every step was agony and the
cramping was virtually intolerable.  Furthermore, to her astonishment
and dismay she was instructed never to tamper with or attempt to
remove the hurtful object, or she would be punished quite severely.
Ever so gradually the pain and pressure subsided until just last night
Keri found herself more or less free of abdominal distress, provided
she didn't sit down wrong.  Upon awakening this morning the ill
effects of the loathsome instrument were further reduced, leaving her
with only a dull ache back there.  Keri did find, however, that she
was now acutely aware of that part of her anatomy, feeling a constant
sensation of internal presence and fullness.

It was later that morning that Keri first learned about the other
function of her CAP Device, as it was called.  Ironically the learning
experience resulted from an attempted refusal of another Handler's
Standard Greeting.  Even as Keri clamped her knees tightly together
and rotated her hips in an effort to remove herself from harm's way,
Anthony administered her first lesson.  

Keri never knew what hit her.  One moment she was stubbornly vying
with the two men, and the next she was on the floor struggling hard
just to catch her breath.  To the astonished teenager it felt as
though she'd been kicked in the stomach, only from the inside.  What
had actually befallen Keri was that soon after spotting the signs of
an impending refusal, Anthony had reached behind her and using four
fingers he'd slapped the exposed blunt end of the CAP Device.  It
wasn't a particularly powerful blow, just a firm rap, actually.  But
due to the highly advanced composite materials used in the
construction of the specialized anal appliances, the force of
Anthony's corrective measure, was amplified as it was conducted deep
into Keri's colon/rectal passage.  There the energy was transmitted to
the her spinal cord, lower abdominal organs and eventually to her
diaphragm, effectively knocking the wind out of the obstinate girl.  

Unlike many young ladies, Keri learned fairly quickly.  Anthony was
forced to give the head strong young woman one other reminder when at
breakfast she was approached by another of his coworkers.  This time,
however, the Handler used only minimal force.  Simply tapping with the
tips of two fingers on the blunt end of the CAP Device which was
embossed with the numeral "8" and nestled between Keri's shapely
buttocks, proved adequate to gain her attention.  Then following some
whining protests, prompting the need for verbal correction only, the
Jensen girl had acquiesced.

The Coach waited patiently for the young lady to respond to his
initial salutation.  He'd been previously apprised of the Jensen
girl's difficulty with the Greeting, and was prepared to have to take
extraordinary measures with the headstrong young woman.  He monitored
her facial expression closely, noting a look of agitation and
confusion as she wrestled with her pride and self-respect.

According to protocol, upon receiving any staff member's opening
salutation, Keri was expected to face him and assume a stance with her
feet spread apart to approximately the same width as her shoulders.
Then while maintaining direct eye contact she must await the Greeter's
pleasure.  Verbally replying to the initial salutation is optional.

Keri jumped slightly when she felt Anthony's hand on her left hip.
Seconds later with a barely audible sigh, the once proud young woman
moved her right foot to the side.  Her expression was priceless as she
was forced to comply with the wishes of these wicked men once again.  

"Look at me, please, young lady," the Coach instructed when Keri
momentarily dropped her gaze.  Her huge hazel eyes spoke volumes to
the professional man as without the slightest compunction the Coach
placed his hand on her.  Sliding his fingers smoothly between her
thighs and over her substantial outer lips, the Coach pressed the heel
of his hand firmly against the mons, the padded mound of fur covered
flesh over her pubic arch.  No words were spoken and Keri wasn't
restrained in any way.  She was expected to accept the Coach's touch
without protest.  It was a difficult lesson for any young woman, but
especially for one as self-involved as Keri Jensen.

Keri's eyes grew suddenly wider, and her pupils quickly contracted to
black pin pricks as she stared at the Coach with all the vehemence of
a viper preparing to strike.  Ignoring the young woman's unspoken
wrathfulness and revulsion, the Coach continued with the routine in
true text book fashion.  Pressing upward with his fingers at the
posterior end of the labia majora on either side of the vaginal
opening, the Coach performed the "Cup Maneuver" on Keri by making a
partial fist and compressing her ample labia between his fingertips
and the heel of his hand.

The attractive teenager's lower lip began to quiver noticeably as the
professional man repeatedly palpated her most prized flesh. 

Keri Jensen was totally outraged by the flagrant invasion of her
person.  "Did these men have no shame at all!" Keri marveled.  Then
out of the blue she caught herself thinking,  "Before coming to this
mad house, men would have killed for the privilege of touching me like
this."  She gritted her teeth and tried to hang on as the man's hand
rubbed and squeezed and pressed.  Every fiber of her being screamed
for her to lash out, to attack, to defend her dignity, but feeling
Anthony's hand resting gently on her hip just inches away from the
dreadful instrument he'd had placed into her, reminded Keri that she
would pay a price if she tried to resist.  She had to endure, for Keri
felt certain a time would come when she would have her revenge.  Then
suddenly the man was speaking to her.

"May I have your name, please," the Coach requested of her.  

Keri wasn't at all sure she could answer him, considering what he was
doing to her.  Thoughts of violence and retribution screamed in the
forefront of her mind, but not far away,  just behind the thin veil of
conscious thought was the constant and undeniable feeling of his hand
upon her - pressing and rubbing.  Keri shut her eyes tightly and tried
to collect her thoughts.  What had he asked her?  Then "Oh, God, I
wish he would take his hand away!  Somebody, please make him stopppp!"

"Look at me, young lady and give me your name, please," the Coach
repeated his request.  Meanwhile, between the teenager's thighs he
separated his fingers, placing his index and first fingers over one of
her labia, and his ring and little fingers over the other.  As the
girl reluctantly opened her eyes and looked at him, with a practiced
hand the Coach spread his fingers, two to either side, separating
Keri's labia majora and exposing her moist inner tissues to the cool
room air.  "Live long and prosper," he muttered under his breath.  

The girl  knew she'd been opened.  The Coach could see it in her
expression as her natural female alarm warned her that her abdominal
integrity was compromised.  She looked startled and confused and
appeared to be losing focus.  Keri Jensen was beginning to experience
the Thelazine Effect.

Keri, like every Guest of the Center was given an injection of the
miracle drug, Thelazine soon after establishing residence.  One of the
beneficial effects of the incredible compound - and there were many -
is that it acts almost like a neural traffic cop, giving the green
light to those impulses and sensations emanating from the distinctly
female areas of Keri's anatomy, and speeding them on their way to the
pleasure center of her brain, while at the same time blocking
inapplicable concepts and inappropriate thoughts that would serve only
to confuse or distract.  Ever so gradually more complex concepts such
as thoughts of revenge were shunted onto a "side street" in Keri's
mind as more immediate and relevant physical sensations took
precedence.  The outrage that the pretty teen felt was still there,
but it was slowly losing its focal point.  Lacking an objective or a
"battle plan", if you will, even an emotion as powerful as anger will
eventually lose cohesiveness and dissipate as the conscious mind seeks
to alleviate the stress it produces.  In short the drug allowed Keri
to listen more closely to her "inner female" without the distraction
associated with complex thinking resulting from perceived violations
of personal belief systems, inhibitions or societal prejudices. 

To be certain, Keri Jensen still felt intense anger and indignation
over having been abducted and imprisoned.  However, if at that exact
moment she could step back and examine her anger from a position of
emotional detachment, she would discover that those feelings of rage
were quickly becoming more ambiguous.  Already Keri was subconsciously
directing her anger at the circumstances rather than toward specific
individuals.  Furthermore, if the individual who presently was taking
great liberties with her - namely the Coach - continued to access
those areas of Keri's reproductive anatomy designed to stimulate and
arouse, the resulting sensory messages arriving at her brain and
flagged "high priority" would continue to supersede more complex
thought patterns, further attenuating the teenager's reasoning
abilities.  Eventually, left only with a nebulous, undirected anger,
Keri's subconscious would begin to suppress that potent sentiment as
well, rather than risk emotional pain.  In the end, thanks to
Thelazine, Miss Jensen would be left in a state of mental and
emotional disorientation mixed with a healthy dose of sexual arousal.
Of greater significance, and the reason why Thelazine is recognized as
an invaluable training tool, is the fact that in this distracted state
of mind a young lady becomes highly impressionable and receptive to
suggestion.  

[Another Author's Note: Numerous references to Thelazine can be found
throughout the TYTC series of stories.  TYTC 4.5 and 10S-NE1 - Part
One both contain excellent descriptions of Thelazine and its
remarkable effectiveness.]

"Your name, please," the Coach insisted.

"K...Keri J..Jensen," the handsome teenager responded then looked down
at the man's hand between her legs.  Recognizing a problem her
instinctive female defense system immediately flashed a warning to her
brain, urging Keri to clamp her thighs together and protect herself,
but at that instant the Coach spoke.  

"Look at me, Miss Jensen," he demanded, and no sooner had the mental
alert been issued, it evaporated, leaving Keri slightly dazed.

Meanwhile, between her legs, the man used his fingers to alternately
open and close Keri again and again until she thought she would go out
of her mind.  She'd been forced to submit to the indignity of the
Standard Greeting on more than one occasion, but this time was way
different than the rest.  This man, this ...Coach, handled her with a
purpose.  His touch was at the same time both intrusive and
provocative.  Keri felt supremely violated, yet the nagging suspicion
that she might somehow become excited by the experience, evoked some
very uncomfortable feelings within her.

It took a huge effort this time for her to raise her eyes to his, but
once she finally managed to achieve eye contact, Keri found she was
either unable or unwilling to look away.  The Coach's ice water eyes
seemed to fix her gaze, paralyzing her like a fawn caught in the beam
of a jack lighter's lamp.  Keri imagined the man reaching into her
innermost soul with his eyes, threatening to ferret out her most
guarded secrets.  

The Coach, who more so  than most was exceptionally proficient at
deciphering the facial expressions and body language of the human
female, correctly identified signs of uncertainty and confusion in the
girl, and as though he was following the step-by-step instructions for
the Standard Greeting protocol printed in the TYTC Handler's Handbook,
he did reach into Keri, but not with his eyes.

"Hrruuhh," the surprised teenager exhaled loudly, as a powerful tremor
passed through her.  Her knees suddenly felt like rubber, and she
probably would have fallen had the Coach not supported her with his
free hand.  Meanwhile the man's long middle finger traveled easily up
into Keri's inner sanctum, pushing aside her convoluted vaginal walls
with a remarkable lack of opposition.  Much to her dismay Keri did
indeed fall against the Coach, and for an a few seconds the powerful
man supported a good deal of her weight with his hand between her
legs.  For all intents and purposes, the Coach held Keri up by her
intimate self, and those few seconds were extremely humiliating for
the arrogant young woman.  

It was almost comical to watch the pretty teenager struggle to regain
her footing.  After yanking her arm from the Coach's grasp, she
brushed the hair out of her face and squared her shoulders.  The funny
thing was that as Keri went about trying to recover at least a small
part of her composure, she seemed to overlook the fact that a perfect
stranger had his finger imbedded as deeply into her birth canal as was
humanly possible.  

It took a moment for that fact to register and for Keri's alarm system
to respond, but once again the top-priority, warning message, stating
that a stranger had entered her body without her permission, was
directed onto a side road.  Meanwhile the sizzling impulses describing
the shape, size and texture of the Coach's finger and how it had felt
going in, raced past on the Thelazine Expressway.  So even though Keri
recognized the disturbing fact that she had just been forcibly
violated, the reality of sustaining a warm, unyielding mass inside of
herself took priority.  That the Coach's finger was inside of her was
far more important than how it came to be there.

While Keri's befuddled brain sorted through all the pros and cons and
causes and effects, the Coach used the time to make a primary
assessment of her vaginal aptitude.  Although there were several
specialized instruments at his disposal to aid him in determining the
young lady's personal measurements such as Passage Volume, Internal
Grip Strength [IGS] and Muscle Memory [M&M's], The Coach was from the
old school.  He'd spent so many hundreds of hours over the years
engaged in intimate contact with the Guests of The Youth Training
Center, that his simple tactile examinations generally yielded results
so close to the data collected electronically that it was uncanny.

"How often do you engage in sexual activity, Miss Jensen?" the Coach
asked in a clinical tone of voice.  Keri shuddered reflexively when he
shifted the position of his impaling digit inside of her.  "She
appears to have adequate volume," the Coach noted.

"I..I.." she began in a confused voice.

"Once a week?  Twice a week?  Ten times?  How often, Miss Jensen?" the
Coach demanded, interrupting her.  He began to move his finger slowly
in and out of the bewildered girl.  "Grip strength seems poor," the
Coach decided when he detected no appreciable change in snugness upon
ingress and egress.  "Then again, it could be a coordination problem
rather than one of fitness," he reminded himself.  

"Waa...Once a w..week.  S..sometimes," Keri stammered lamely.  She
couldn't believe that she'd actually answered such a personal
question, but she was so distracted and confused.  Her mind was
sluggish and her thoughts were often directionless and out of context.

The Coach made no comment on Keri's rather intimate disclosure but
continued to move his finger steadily in and out... in and out for a
few minutes more, while monitoring her facial expressions and body
language closely.  Clearly she was beginning to turn her attention
inward, for her eyes appeared out of focus.  The Coach pushed his
finger deeply up into Keri, pulled out and then fully into her once
more.  Then he paused, feeling a series of weak contractions.  "This
one definitely needs a workout," the Coach concluded.  Again he thrust
his finger deeply into Keri, causing her to gasp.  He watched her eyes
as he repeated the invasive thrusts, once...twice...three times.  On
the third entry, she squeezed his finger, but very reservedly.  Again
the Coach pushed into Keri, causing her to rise up onto the balls of
her feet and her tummy to bulge outward quite nicely.  "Now we're
getting some place," the Coach muttered under his breath.  Three more
times he drove his finger into the girl, receiving some encouraging,
wet, snapping sounds for his effort.  Then with the third thrust
abruptly he stopped.  

Keri felt like a derailed train.  She'd become almost totally focused
on the motion of the Coach's finger, and later, when she had a moment
to reflect, the realization that she'd allowed the wicked and
perverted man to get her so "worked up" would weigh heavily on her.  

This is a perfect example of one of the many beneficial side effects
of Thelazine.  By design, the physiological changes wrought by the
amazing compound are so subtle that many young ladies become confused
about which feelings are a result of the drug, and which appetites and
responses are attributable to some heretofore unseen part of
themselves, some flaw in their character.  The increasing self-doubt
that shadows each unanticipated arousal is capable of undermining the
confidence of even the most well balanced young woman, and over a
period of time can be very effective.

The Coach recognized the chagrin in Keri's expression as being
indicative of real progress, for he'd seen similar reactions in
hundreds of others a thousand times.  Soon the transformation would
begin.  The systematic altering of the Guests' perception of "self"
using time proven techniques like these has never failed.  Head strong
and impertinent in the beginning, then as time passes, each and every
one of them slowly improves.  It requires patience and persistence and
time before any real breakthroughs are achieved.  Some young ladies
learn faster than others.  One thing, however, is certain:

"Given a suitable amount of sexual impetus by a partner, partners or
apparatus, employing the proper techniques, for an adequate period of
time, any female, regardless of the circumstances of her involvement,
will eventually become an active and willing participant in the
relationship."

"Once a week, sometimes," the Coach remarked, sounding surprised.
Then again he propelled his middle finger fully into Keri, causing her
heels to rise off the floor. "A young woman your age?  What a waste of
natural resource!  Well, I suspect that since joining our little
family, you've seen an increase in that sort of activity," the Coach
said sarcastically.  Keri looked away, confused and ashamed.

Without further comment, the Coach removed his finger, stepped back,
and as he dried his hands on the small towel he kept tucked into the
back of his sweat pants, he appraised his pupil once again.  Her neck,
shoulders and cheeks were showing a healthy blush of color.  The
darker pink skin of her small areolae was noticeably constricted, and
her clear hazel eyes looked hazy and distant.  

Privately the Coach was pleased with her progress.  Keri Jensen showed
promise in spite of her advanced age.  He said nothing to the girl,
however.  Turning instead to her Handler, Anthony, he said, "You may
leave Miss Jensen with me.  Come back for her in four to five hours.
We have a lot of work to do."

"Very well, Coach," Anthony replied.  "Call me if you need me to pick
her up early," he offered then turned and with the other attendant
made his exit, leaving Keri standing naked and alone.

"Come with me, Miss Jensen," the Coach said after a moment and held
out a hand to her.  In the "old days" Guests were led about by the
hand, but as the population of the Center grew,  the practice was
phased out for logistical reasons.  In his gymnasium, however, the
Coach made the rules.  "Give me your hand, Miss Jensen," he ordered
when the girl gave him a blank and uncomprehending look.  

Still a little wonky from her recent and unexpected arousal, Keri
elected to cooperate.  Placing her small hand into the Coach's much
larger mitt, she decided that now was not the time for a
confrontation.  The man's hand was surprisingly soft for such a rugged
looking individual, and Keri knew from recent personal experience that
his fingers were both long and thick.  She tried not to think about
the fact that she was being led by the hand, padding along behind the
Coach like a small child, as the two of them proceeded down the
central aisle of the TYTC Gymnasium.  

Glancing to her left Keri noticed a pretty young girl no more than
fourteen or fifteen years of age.  She was bent slightly at the waist
and was holding onto a shining steel horizontal bar for support.  The
girl's feet were spread quite widely apart, and on what looked like a
weight lifting bench nearby, Keri recognized the all too familiar
shape of a CAP Device, the very same instrument that she herself
contained within her colon/rectal passage.  Behind the pretty
youngster knelt her Handler, or at least the staff member in
attendance.  Keri assumed that the Handler had removed the young
girl's CAP Device, because Guests were forbidden to tamper with them
in any way, and in its place the man dressed in white had inserted
another instrument.  From what Keri could see as she and the Coach
passed by, it appeared to be a thinner, wand-like mechanism, one end
of which was imbedded in the young girl's rear end, and the other,
which resembled a pistol grip, the Handler held in his hand.  Two
clear hoses extended from the butt end of the grip downward to a
gadget on the floor that looked very much like a canister style vacuum
cleaner.  Placing his free hand onto the pretty girl's hip to steady
her, the Handler pushed the device farther into his young subject.  He
then depressed the trigger mechanism and immediately the milky fluid
flowing through the two hoses turned dark brown.  At the same time
Keri heard a kind of distant growling sound as though it was coming
from inside the girl.  There was no doubt that something was going on
inside of her, because her pretty face abruptly turned pale and she
looked like she was going to throw up.  Keri looked away in disgust.

They moved on, but it seemed that no matter which way Keri chose to
turn, she was met with yet another beastly scene.  Everywhere she
looked there were bodies in motion, female bodies of all ages.  Some
were involved with heinous looking apparatus, while others were in the
company of one or more Handlers.  Needless to say, Keri was becoming
rather concerned about her own immediate future and well being, but
just then the Coach halted so abruptly that Keri walked right into
him.

"Here's someone you might recognize, Miss Jensen," the Coach said,
nodding toward a group immediately to their right; two Handlers and
one young woman with very long, blond hair.  

Keri couldn't see the girl's face, because she was facing away from
them.  Without acknowledging the presence of an audience, the
threesome got started.  One of the two Handlers took up a position on
his back atop a long, low padded bench while the other man stood next
to the blond girl with his hand on her shoulder.  The man standing
then leaned closer to the girl and spoke to her in a low voice while
the Handler lying on the low bench unzipped his coveralls and
extracted himself.  Then while they all looked on he stroked himself
until he reached full erection.

"My God, he's huge!" Keri exclaimed under her breath, and bringing one
hand up to her lips nervously, she stared in utter amazement at the
massive example of maleness gripped tightly in the Handler's fist.
Keri still couldn't see the other girl's face, but clearly the blond
was looking at the same thing.  "Did they actually expect the poor
girl to impale herself on that...that... thing?" Keri wondered.  Very
soon her question was answered as the Handler standing beside the
unfortunate blond girl leaned close once more and gave her
instructions.  Keri caught a glimpse of her profile when the pretty
teenager turned and shot the Handler a look of dismay, but it happened
too quickly for Keri to identify her.

Slowly then, and clearly very reluctantly, the blond girl straddled
the low bench and its occupant.  Immediately the Handler lying prone
beneath her put a hand behind her right thigh and eased her forward.
"Up on your tip toes," Keri heard the man say. Actually it really was
necessary for the young lady to raise herself upward in order to mount
the mammoth, heavily veined monster.  Keri watched amazed as from her
vantage point behind the girl, the broad, bulbous head of the thing
disappeared between her shapely buttocks.  The Handler continued to
clutch his enormous manhood in his fist, supporting himself for his
pretty partner, when suddenly she arched her muscular back and threw
her head back with an audible groan.  Again Keri almost got a look at
her face, but not quite.

"Silence, young lady," the Handler who'd remained standing ordered as
he stepped closer to the girl and again placed a hand onto her
shoulder.

"Look at me, young lady and settle down, please," the man lying
beneath the handsome blond said.  "And bend your knees," he ordered.

Keri heard a guttural grunt come from the girl, and shortly afterward
her partner was heard to say, "That's better.  Now down we go."  She
bent her knees like the Handler suggested, and miraculously the girl
managed to accept more than half of her sizeable lover into her body.

"That's my girl.  You're almost there," her lover told her as the
blond struggled with the last few inches.

Keri simply couldn't understand where it was all going.  "God, she
must feel him in the back of her throat!" Keri remarked to herself as
she watched the young blond's buttocks settle at last onto the tops of
the man's thighs.  

Not wishing to watch what amounted to a rape any longer, Keri turned
to the Coach to see if he was ready to move on, but to her
consternation the man nodded in the direction of the party of three
and told her to keep watching.

As Keri turned back to the group, the blond leaned forward, placed her
hands onto her lover's broad shoulders and began to undulate her hips
slowly back and forth, fucking herself on man's ample engine.  The two
Handlers let her continue for a couple of minutes longer, until the
man beneath her reached up, took her by her shoulders and pulled her
down, giving Keri and the Coach a better view of the thoroughness of
her involvement.  Her lover's substantial shaft, which had to be over
three inches in diameter, was completely buried in her vagina, and
judging from the way the girl's inner labia were stretched tightly
around its considerable girth, Keri figured it had to be an
uncomfortably snug fit.  

The girl's CAP device had been removed earlier by the attending
Handler, leaving her puckered anal portal exposed and empty, but that
was soon to be remedied.  As Keri looked on in growing discomfort, the
attending Handler who'd remained standing reached down and casually
slipped his middle finger into the young blond's unoccupied opening. 

It never ceased to amaze Keri the ease with which these diabolical men
could  invade a girl.  She knew from personal experience that without
the aid of lubrication, any one of them was capable of inserting  to
the hilts a finger or fingers into a dry passage with incredible speed
and economy of motion.  It was perverse.

Soon the man began to rotate his hand at the wrist, twisting and
probing ever deeper.  Beneath the girl her lover placed his hands onto
her hips and encourage her to begin fucking him again, for she'd
frozen temporarily when the other man entered her.  After a second or
two her pelvis began to rock slowly.

Keri as yet hadn't gotten a good look at the girl's face, but already
she felt sympathy for her.  Perhaps it was a kind of bond between the
mutually oppressed, but as Keri stood observing the threesome she
pitied the girl.  Judging from the surprising degree of cooperation
she extended to her defilers, she'd clearly been imprisoned in "the
House of Horrors" for quite some time.  Keri didn't hear a peep from
the group once they got going, other than the occasional sticky, wet
sounds of love.  While the young blond went about her duties, the
attending man in white continued to delve about in her rectal passage
for another minute or two, and then without removing his impaling
digit he straddled the narrow bench, temporarily blocking the view.
Keri heard the sickening sound of his coverall zipper being lowered,
but it appeared that the blond girl was too distracted to notice.

Because the second Handler's body was blocking her view, Keri didn't
witness the actual penetration, but as was generally the case, it
happened very quickly.  With practiced ease the big man in white
reached down, hooked his fingers in front of the girl's hip bones and
bent his knees slightly.  When the proper angle of attack was achieved
he then pushed forward with his hips while at the same time, he pulled
back on the girl's hips.

The blond's reaction to him was quite pronounced.  "Surely she'd felt
him press himself against her," Keri marveled, but apparently not.
These men were experts.  The startled young woman suddenly pushed her
herself upward with her arms, arched her back severely and gave a deep
visceral groan.  Keri was about to look away in disgust and pity, when
the second Handler issued a command to the unhappy blond.

"Silence, Miss Kournikova!" he snapped.  "And look back at me please."

"Huh?  W..what did he say?" Keri thought to herself, but quickly
decided that she must have misunderstood the man.  After all, his back
was turned.  Then as though in answer to her unspoken question, the
young blond slowly turned and stared back over her left shoulder as
the second Handler began a slow cadence.

"Oh my God!" Keri gasped out loud, and her hand flew to her mouth in
stunned surprise.

"Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach immediately ordered, stepping up
closely behind her.  

Keri shuddered involuntarily when she sensed his fingers on the butt
end of her CAP Device.  Standing spellbound she stared briefly into
the big green eyes of Anna Kournikova.  Her face clearly reflected her
discomfort, but her eyes seemed distant and unfocused.  Keri was
certain she'd made eye contact, however briefly, with the famous blond
tennis star, but there had been no sign of recognition there at all.  

Keri was absolutely incredulous, as she watched the pretty celebrity
stare dutifully into the eyes of the man behind her while he quickly
established a steady rhythm.  "This is impossible!" Keri insisted to
herself, but the evidence unfortunately was irrefutable. 

She wasn't a big tennis fan, but she liked to watch the grand slam
tournaments whenever they were televised, and now that she thought
about it, she hadn't seen Anna Kournikova play in quite some time.  As
Keri looked on with growing trepidation, she began to wonder who these
people at this "Youth Training Center" really were.  It would be no
easy task to abduct a person as popular and recognizable as Anna
Kournikova, and why hadn't she read about it in the papers?  Keri was
truly astonished by this particular development and her expression
must have reflected her sentiments.

"I see that you recognize our Guest," the Coach remarked.  Keri turned
to answer him, but suddenly the sharp and unmistakable sound of a firm
"slap" caused her to return her attention to the menage a trois on the
bench.

"Silence, young lady!" one of the Handlers barked when the unhappy
tennis star cried out.  "You have the needs of two partners to
consider now, so concentrate on your passage control," the man beneath
her coached.  "Hands on my shoulders and let's get those hips moving.
I want you to pay attention and fuck me, Miss Kournikova.  Do it now,
please," the Handler lying on the bench beneath the blond athlete
demanded.  

Keri shuddered as she watched the unfortunate young woman attempt to
comply with the despicable man's wishes.  Leaning forward carefully,
Anna Kournikova placed her hands on the prone man's shoulders.
Meanwhile, her other partner shifted his position somewhat and went on
with his steady thrusting.  Slowly the tennis celebrity's broad hips
began to move, and soon the threesome assumed a more regular rhythm
and pace.  
Keri discovered that she was hugging herself, as she stood watching
the lurid display.  She'd never allowed anyone to take her anally and
shuddered again at the very thought of having two large masses moving
inside of her.  "It had to hurt," Keri thought.  

"Miss Kournikova joined our little family about ten months ago," the
Coach narrated from just behind Keri's left shoulder, startling her a
bit as he placed a hand on her shoulder.  His right hand which had
been resting on her hip dropped downward and right away Keri felt him
grasp the hideous object they'd jammed into her rear end.

"I have to admit," the stout little man went on in a conversational
tone of voice.  "She was quite a handful at first."  

A series of sympathetic muscle contractions racked Keri's lower
abdomen, causing her to inhale sharply as the Coach began to twist the
specially designed device slowly inside of her.  Gritting her teeth,
Keri struggled to maintain control, but her knees felt all rubbery and
weak.

"Yes indeed," the Coach mused as though this were just another day at
the office.  "You'd never know it to look at her now, but for the
first few weeks, our little celebrity required the attention of at
least two members of our staff and often three, twenty-four hours a
day" he remarked.  

Slowly the Coach twisted the butt end of the black composite plug
lodged in Keri's rectal passage, first one way and then the other as
though he were dialing a combination lock.  As he did, he carefully
monitored the young woman's muscular responses, both their frequency
and strength.  Based upon her reactions the Coach surmised that prior
to joining the TYTC family, Miss Jensen hadn't used her nether passage
for much more than the elimination of bodily waste, but that would
soon change.

Keri began to hear regular and rather repugnant noises from the
direction of the loving trio.  The sound of heavy breathing ,
irregular and gasping, interspersed with soft grunts and the wet,
visceral "spooching" reports of pressurized air escaping from tightly
packed passages was also increasingly more noticeable.  It was
repulsive and vulgar.

"Well, we've wasted quite enough time, Miss Jensen," the Coach piped
up suddenly.  "You and I have a lot of ground to cover, so we'd best
get started.  Come with me, please," he ordered and held out his hand
to her.  

Keri stared at it for a second before taking it.  Then as she and the
Coach turned and moved away down the wide central aisle of the
gymnasium, from behind Keri clearly heard one of the Handler's
involved with the pretty tennis star say, "That's good, Miss
Kournikova.  Bear down now.  That's it.  Don't let anything leak out!"

Once again Keri found herself being led like a small child as
thankfully they left the loathsome scene behind.  Although it was out
of character for her to consider the feelings of another human being,
particularly those of another woman, Keri found herself feeling sorry
for Anna Kournikova as she followed along behind the broad shouldered
little man past countless ghastly looking machines and further
sickening examples of young women being forced to submit to the evil
desires of the fiendish men in white coveralls.  

Upon reaching the rear wall of the facility the Coach turned to the
right, leading Keri past a row of six or eight ominous and all too
familiar pieces of equipment.  Only one of the hideous Cooperation
Seats was currently being used, and Keri was unable to see its
occupant as she passed by because the burly body of a Handler blocked
her view.  All she could see were the slender legs of an unfortunate
young girl restrained widely apart on either side of the man's hips.
As he moved rhythmically in the familiar motion of love making, Keri
could see the muscles of his buttocks flex from his exertion.  Based
upon the diminutive size of her slender legs and small feet, Keri
decided that the girl couldn't have been much older than thirteen.  As
she and the Coach moved past, the young occupant of the Cooperation
Seat endured her lover with customary silence.  In fact, the only
reaction from the youngster that Keri could detect was the flexing of
the girl's small hands in the upper extremity restraints of the evil
apparatus.  

Keri's thoughts were filled with dark vows of vengeance and violence
against the demonic members of this "House of Horrors" as she walked
away from the vile scene and the unlucky little girl.  

In a short distance the rear wall of the facility fell away from them,
and the Coach brought Keri, up short in front of a small  alcove,
about twelve feet square with mirrored walls.

"Here we are," the Coach said, dropping her hand and then stepping
over to a big stainless steel cabinet.  As he opened one of its doors
he turned to Keri and asked, "Are you going to behave yourself, Miss
Jensen, or shall I summon an assistant?"  

Keri stared at him coldly.

"Answer me, please, young lady," the Coach demanded in an
authoritative voice.  "We have a great deal of work to do, you and I,
and before we part ways today, progress will be made with or without
your cooperation.  I can assure you that there is no lack of qualified
help around here should you elect to be difficult, so the choice is
yours," he explained calmly and reached into the cabinet.

Hugging herself unconsciously, Keri glanced around dubiously.
Everywhere she turned her eyes were met with another atrocity.  The
big facility was literally teeming with white clad men, and the air
was filled with their sharply barked demands.  There would no escaping
from here she decided.

"What do you want me to do?" Keri responded, holding her head high and
trying hard to appear confident and strong.  Sooner or later she would
have her revenge, but now was not the time.

"I'll take that for a yes," the Coach said as he turned, stooped
slightly and dropped  a couple of barbell style weights onto the
padded floor with a "clink".  "Come over here please, Miss Jensen,"
said the Coach as he turned back to the open cabinet doors.  "That's
right.  Right over here," he added, tossing a short length of light
chain next to the weights as Keri stepped gingerly onto the red padded
mat covering the floor of the mirrored alcove.  "Right this way,
please," said the powerfully built little man, taking Keri by arm and
leading her toward the center of the recessed area.  Halting her after
only a few feet, he then instructed her to look down.

At her feet, Keri noticed a row of footprints stenciled side by side
in white and each one numbered.  It took a second, but finally a
pattern emerged, and Keri was about to ask the man what he wanted her
to do next when he answered her question before she could ask it.

That was another thing that Keri despised about these diabolical
fiends, the way they seemed to know what she was thinking.  It was
uncanny, and it pissed her off.

"Feet on pair number four, please, Miss Jensen," the Coach stated
cooly and stepped back from her.

Keri looked down at the white numbered prints again then back up at
the Coach.  "You're kidding, right," she said rather caustically.  

If she understood the pattern correctly, what the man asked was
virtually ludicrous if not physically impossible.  The stenciled
footprints were arranged in numbered pairs.  Pair number one, one left
print and one right, were perhaps eighteen inches apart.  Pair number
two were located in line with and approximately ten inches outside of
pair number one, and so on and so forth with each successive pair set
farther apart.  As a result, the two footprints marked "4", and the
reason for Keri's sarcasm, were separated by nearly five feet.

"One thing you will soon learn about me, Miss Jensen, is that I take
my work very seriously.  I never kid," the Coach responded.  There
wasn't a hint of malice in his voice.  He was simply stating fact.

Keri was actually surprised by the vehemence of her reaction to this
remark.  She hadn't realized that her rage was so close to the
surface.  "Your work?  Your work!" she exploded.  "You call all this
work!" she cried, gesticulating wildly about.  "That girl back there,
strapped into one of your horrible chairs couldn't have been any older
than thirteen.  She's just a baby, and one of your perverted buddies
was raping her!  It's not work you disgusting monster; it's torture
and rape, and if I ever get out of this House of Horrors, I'll see to
it that you and your friends spend the rest of your miserable lives in
the penitentiary.  Maybe some of the inmates will show you how it
feels to be a "guest"," Keri spat rather triumphantly.

During her tirade the Coach stood with his shoulders slightly slumped,
his head bowed and his hands clasped behind his back.  To all outward
appearances, he looked almost remorseful, and Keri for a moment
actually felt she'd gained the upper hand.  In fact, this particular
posture the Coach had assumed had been mistaken for penitence by other
Guests in the past.  To their dismay, however, the girls soon
discovered that it was really the Coach's way of controlling his
temper and remaining calm while he allowed them to vent.  "A good
temper tantrum can tire a girl out and make her more cooperative," the
Coach maintained.

Keri, nearly exhausted from her diatribe, and trembling from the
adrenalin coursing through her system, stood waiting for the stocky
little man to respond.  She'd thought about running, but where too?
She was surprised, really, that the man hadn't taken some kind of
retaliatory action already, but experience told her that it wouldn't
be long in coming.  It rarely paid to argue with these men.

Keri prepared for the worst, figuring that in another minute or two
she'd be lying flat on her back while a gang of the white clad
monsters had their way with her.  "How many would it be this time,"
Keri wondered idly.  Last time it was six or eight.  She'd lost count
after awhile, and for three days afterward she was so sore she walked
like duck.  And do you think that stopped them?  No way!  That very
night one of the perverts was waiting in her bed.  Her "Night Partner"
they called him.  

Keri was so wrapped up in her dark thoughts that she failed to hear
the man the first time.  "Are you quite finished, now, Miss Jensen?"
the Coach repeated in an even tone of voice.  When Keri just blinked
at him stupidly he continued.  "We don't expect for you to understand
or appreciate our methods, young lady," the Coach said with a wry
smile.  "We expect for you to respond to them and learn," he stated,
his voice and his eyes becoming cold and somewhat menacing.  

Keri, standing naked and alone in front of the Coach, suddenly felt
very exposed and vulnerable, and it was by no means a pleasant
feeling.  For a few seconds she was able to return the man's stare,
but soon her will faltered and she lowered her eyes.

The Coach who'd stood at this particular crossroad countless times
before, knew all the signs, and stepping beside the girl he offered,
"Here, let me help you, Miss Jensen."  She tried at first to tug her
arm from his hands, but quickly resigned herself to the inevitable.
"That's it," the Coach murmured as he steadied her with his strong
arms.  "A little wider, please, Miss Jensen.  Let's get both our feet
on the footprints."

Keri remembered playing a game called "Twister" when she was younger
and would have laughed had in not been for the gravity of the
situation.  Her inner thighs ached terribly, and she was forced to
take great care not to fall when the coach released her and moved in
front of her.

Kneeling down on one knee on the padded floor the Coach reached out
and placed one big hand onto each of Keri's hips just below her pelvic
crests.  Then looking up at her he began moving his hands downward
while slowly kneading her firm flesh.  "You have a very serviceable
body, Miss Jensen.  You get a lot of exercise, don't you."

"I.. Uh huh," Keri nodded dumbly as the man's hands moved down the
outsides of her thighs to her knees.

"The muscles in your legs are remarkably fit," the Coach commented as
he encircled her right leg with his hands just above the knee.  "In
fact, Miss Jensen, on the outside, you're in pretty good shape,
considering your age," he said as he worked his way up her leg,
sampling the integrity of her inner thigh muscles along the way.  His
remark about her age earned him a sharp glance from the self-absorbed
teenager just as his hands arrived at the juncture of her legs, and
being the professional that he was, the Coach naturally took advantage
of that brief moment of distraction.

"Be still now, Miss Jensen," the stocky man said in response to her
startled squeal. "You know the rules by now."

As usual, he'd caught her completely off guard, and even if she'd had
the grip strength necessary to resist him, by the time Keri thought to
bear down,  the Coach's thick middle finger was completely sheathed
within her vagina.  

"You may put your hands on my shoulders if you need to steady
yourself," the Coach offered when he felt the girl's legs begin to
tremble.  Then pressing the palm of his hand upward against her ample
vulva he extended his finger up into Keri until he felt her cervix
beneath his fingertip.  "That's my girl," the hateful man muttered
when he felt a few reactive contractions.  "Those are the very muscles
we need to work on," said the Coach as he extracted his finger slowly
then returned it home with more enthusiasm.  "Squeeze my finger, Miss
Jensen.  That's it.  And again," the man coached.  Repeatedly he
thrust his thick finger deeply into Keri, and each time, just prior to
removing it, he instructed the dazed young woman to bear down for him.

This request, like most that the Handlers made of Keri was
tremendously humiliating as intended.  Being forced to endure the
man's loathsome touch was bad enough, but then to actually be coached
about something as private and personal as vaginal muscle control was
nothing short of dehumanizing.  To make matters worse, if that were
possible, Keri soon discovered that her legs were becoming so weak
that rather than collapse onto the padded floor, she was compelled to
grasp the Coach's shoulders in order to maintain her balance.

Meanwhile, the disgusting man continued to delve into Keri's most
personal spaces, his repulsive finger dipping and probing, locating
places inside of her that no one had ever touched before.  Exquisite
places, deeply female places, and in spite of the repugnance she held
in her very soul for him and the rest of the white clad demons, Keri
found herself following his invasive sorties  with growing interest
with her mind's eye.  

"Harder, please, Miss Jensen," the Coach instructed.  "I know you can
do better.  Now concentrate!" he enjoined.  "Squeeze my finger!"

"I am, you bssstrd!" Keri hissed in frustration through tightly
clenched teeth.  She couldn't believe this was happening to her.
Never in her darkest nightmares would she ever have dreamed of being
treated in such a demeaning and humiliating manner.

"Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach commanded and rammed his finger
upward, slamming the heal of his hand forcefully against her pubic
mons with a pleasing "slap", and causing Keri gasp audibly.  

The thrusting and probing went on for what seemed like an eternity
until Keri thought she would lose her mind when abruptly the man
stopped, and with his finger still deeply imbedded in her intimate
flesh he ordered, "Move your feet together, please, Miss Jensen, to
position number three."

Sighing with relief Keri did as she was told and gratefully shifted
her feet to the number three pair of footprints, bringing her aching
thighs together by approximately eighteen inches.

The Coach got to his feet and stood slightly stooped beside her so as
to maintain good penetration with his impaling digit.  Then with his
free hand, the powerful little man grasped the butt end of Keri's CAP
Device, and with a deft, twisting motion, he extracted the eight inch
torpedo shaped appliance from her rectal passage.  Instantly he felt
her clamp down on the finger in her vagina in reaction to the
unexpected emptiness resulting from the removal of the device.  At the
same time, a rather violent shudder passed through Keri, inspiring a
smile of satisfaction to spread upon the Coach's lips.  For he knew
that already the head strong young woman was becoming accustomed to
the fulfilling presence of her CAP Device which provided her with a
stabilizing coherence and a means by which she might focus her
thoughts.

[Author's Note:  A great deal of history and knowledge is written
about Continuous Anal Presence and the CAP Device throughout The Youth
Training Center saga.  In short,   the CAP Principle and the use of
these extraordinary devices plays a pivotal role in the conditioning
program of every Guest of the Center. - SM]

Unconsciously Keri glanced downward and gave the Coach a quizzical
look in reaction to unforseen feelings of disorientation and
emptiness.  Then as if in answer to her, the professional man
introduced the first finger of his left hand into that space so
recently vacated.  With a precious, huffing expiration of breath the
confused teenager rose up onto her tiptoes as the Coach lifted her
between her trembling thighs with a finger in each of her abdominal
passages.  Keri then groaned audibly as the horrible little man
proceeded to "lift and separate", pulling upward with his hands and
outward with his fingers again and again until he felt he'd achieved
adequate penetration.

"Now, Miss Jensen," the Coach began.  "I want you to concentrate and
use your God given abilities," he stated, looking up at her sternly.
"Squeeze my finger, please," he requested, hooking his finger and
pressing on a location inside of Keri's colon/rectal passage that
suddenly made her feel like she'd sat on a basketball.  Immediately
her tummy bulged outward, and she reflexively clamped down on the
offending mass.  Simultaneously the infrequently used muscles
surrounding her vaginal passage also contracted.  

The fact that the internal musculature encircling both abdominal
passages within the human female are sympathetically linked is common
knowledge for practically any tenured Handler, and not surprisingly,
the Coach, who'd worked with countless young ladies of all ages over
the years, knew precisely how to inspire these muscle groups to
respond on demand. 

"That's much better," he encouraged as after repositioning his finger
in Keri's vagina, with the other, he pressed once more upon that
special spot, very similar to an acupressure point, located on the
anterior wall of the rectal passage, approximately four inches
internal to the anal sphincter.  What Keri experienced was the
immediate sensation of having a very full bowel on the verge of an
uncontrolled evacuation.  

"That's right, Miss Jensen," the Coach complimented the uncomfortable
teenager as she instinctively clutched at both of his fingers
simultaneously.  "Just think about the last time you really had to
"go", and there wasn't a bathroom nearby," he suggested while
gradually withdrawing the finger in Keri's birth canal as the
contraction eased.  Then he repeated the sequence.  Thrusting his
finger deeply into the pretty teenager he quickly located her cervical
os with his fingertip, and so on and so forth.

For five minutes or more, the professional man worked with Keri in
this manner.  Taking advantage of one of the many niceties of the
female reproductive anatomy, the Coach used his anal acupressure point
to encourage the young woman's sympathetically linked vaginal muscles
to contract upon demand.  Furthermore, each time she bore down on him,
he slowly withdrew his finger from her birth canal, training Keri, to
squeeze upon the egress of a vaginal mass, a fundamental element of
vaginal muscle control.  

Later, after she'd mastered "the basics", the Jensen girl, like all
the Guests of the Center, would be taught to "uncouple" the rectal and
vaginal muscle sets, regulating each independently of the other.  Keri
hadn't realized it at the time, but that is precisely what she'd
observed Miss Kournikova learning to do.  It takes concentration and
timing, but in order for a young lady to entertain multiple partners,
she must learn to provide each with the individual attention he
requires and deserves.

Keri seemed to lose track of time as with each passing moment, her
thoughts gradually turned inward.  Once powerful feelings of insult
and outrage slowly faded into ghost impressions and uncertainties, and
in her mind's eye Keri envisioned the fluffy convolutions of her
vaginal walls fluttering and undulating around an unseen presence,
seeking to hold it inside.  Once or twice during the early minutes of
the exercise, Keri had shaken herself out of her growing stupor long
enough to recognize that she was being violated, but since the ensuing
emotions were so quickly and efficiently attenuated in favor of more
pertinent perceptions, Keri had soon become focused on more important
things.  

She had no idea for how long the Coach manipulated her, but suddenly
she became aware of the fact that she was completely empty.  For the
first time in over a week, there was nothing, either human or
artificial in either of her abdominal passages.  Keri Jensen existed
alone, and surprisingly, she found that thought to be somewhat
disconcerting.  Practically from the moment she'd regained
consciousness in the "Recovery Room" of the Center, the men in white
had seen to it that Keri was provided with regular "company".  When
she wasn't actually entertaining a lover in some fashion, a volunteer
staff member was appointed to provide manual anal presence until such
a time as she could be properly measured and fitted with her first CAP
Device.  From that moment on, Keri was never alone.  Aided by the
mental clarity provided by Thelazine, the once independent young woman
began to view the constant sensation of fullness in her core as being
one of completeness.  Keri would never have believed that what she
once thought of as an instrument of debasement and torture, would one
day become an intergral part of her persona.  Even now as Keri awaited
an uncertain future, she experienced unexpected feelings of loss,
emptiness and even longing.

"Very well, then," the Coach remarked.  "Now that you understand what
is expected of you, Miss Jensen, we can put together a program of
exercise tailored specifically to your needs." 

Leaving Keri to ponder his last remark, the Coach stepped over to the
metal cabinet and made his selection.  When he returned he held an
object, that even in her slightly dazed state of mind, caused Keri to
gasp in shock.  She'd seen photographs of such things, but hadn't ever
seen one up close.  She and a couple of her girlfriends had watched a
porn video once with nervous excitement.  In the film a young woman
had used one of the things on herself, and even though it looked like
she was enjoying herself, but Keri and her friends had unanimously
agreed that they would never want to try anything like that
themselves.  

"Dildos they were called," Keri remembered, and at that particular
moment she was staring wide eyed at a very large and particularly
life-like example of one.  Ten inches long and two inches in diameter,
the artificial penis was made of clear acrylic.  Its shaft was
embossed with heavy raised ridges, simulating veins.  The rather
bulbous head of the thing was slightly larger in diameter than the
shaft, and appeared blunter than the few "real life" male organs Keri
had seen during her limited sexual career.  As the Coach moved toward
her Keri unconsciously dropped a hand to her belly, imagining how the
thing would feel inside of her.  Staring in horror at the evil
instrument as the Coach knelt down in front of her, Keri briefly
entertained thoughts of running.  "But to where?" she thought looking
wildly about the huge chamber.  

"Mm..mmm," Keri whined from between clenched teeth when the horrid
thing first made contact with her intimate flesh.

"Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach ordered in response to her complaint
as he wiped the bulbous head of the phallus slowly back and forth
between her heavy labia, coating it with her own natural lubricants.  

"Mmmmhhhhmmmm," the attractive teenager exhaled noisily as she felt
herself begin to dilate around the blunted tip of the ten inch
artificial penis.

"Relax your muscles, Miss Jensen, and allow yourself to be entered,"
the horrible little man instructed as with a slow twisting motion, he
gradually drove the broad head upward into Keri.

The teenager's flat tummy bulged outward in response to the growing
pressure in her abdomen, and her thighs suddenly felt weak and
rubbery.  A powerful tremor passed through her as the clear plastic
mass gradually appropriated every available cubic inch of space in her
birth canal.  Keri couldn't remember every having felt so full down
there before.  Her current love interest, Jeffery, was a good man and
seemed to care a great deal for her, but compared to massive
artificial presence occupying her presently, Jeff was sadly lacking.
Keri groaned audibly when her left knee suddenly buckled and she
lurched toward the Coach, grasping his broad shoulders just barely in
time to avert a fall.

"Steady, Miss Jensen," the man ordered, rotating the device from side
to side.  Inside of Keri the broad, flat head of the big dildo drove
upward into the fornix, seating itself deeply within her.  Keri Jensen
was "Fully Involved".  Now the real work could begin.

"Take a deep breath, and relax your muscles for a minute," the Coach
offered in an almost kindly voice, as he held onto the butt end of the
phallus.  Approximately two inches extended from between Keri's labia,
meaning she contained about eight inches.  Performing a quick mental
calculation while the teenager regained her composure, the Coach
concluded that given the formula for computing the volume of a
cylinder; pi times diameter, times length, Miss Jensen carried
approximately 50.24 cubic inches of mass within her vaginal passage.  

"Not too bad," the Coach muttered.  Fifty cubic inches fell within the
acceptable range for vaginal Passage Volume, although it certainly
could be improved upon, especially at her age.  Keri would, of course,
be measured more thoroughly at another time.  With the aid of some
specialized instruments the volumes of both of her abdominal passages
would be determined to within a few cubic centimeters, and added
together would yield her total Passage Volume, an important personal
measurement for a young lady.

However, as most men know, volume in a girl isn't everything.  In
fact, internal volume without the benefits of fitness and control can
make for a highly unsatisfactory partner.  Most young ladies arriving
at the Center are capable of accepting a lover, with the exception of
the very youngest Guests, perhaps, but most lack conditioning and
composure.  Their internal muscle groups are generally out of shape
and unable to sustain a meaningful embrace for any period of time.  At
TYTC this is known as Internal Grip Strength or IGS, and like most
young women, Keri Jensen was sadly lacking in this area.

To a degree vaginal and anal muscle agility comes naturally to a girl,
but the strength of her internal embrace and the ability to use it
effectively are achieved only with patient tutoring and
practice...practice...practice.  Using a wide variety of specialized
training routines, including Kegel exercise and other regimens
developed by the TYTC staff, the Guests learn to maintain fitness and
stamina, and are taught to use their God given talents more
productively.  The Guests' personal measurements, including Passage
Volume and Internal Grip Strength are monitored and recorded on a
regular basis and are used to chart progress or the lack thereof.

At TYTC a third and equally significant female attribute is also
considered, and that is Muscle Memory.  Muscle Memory or "M&M's" is a
function of muscle resilience and elasticity.  Much like a pressurized
cylinder is hydrostatically tested periodically, the Guests' M&M's are
measured routinely and logged in each girl's permanent record.
Together with Passage Volume and IGS, M&M's are used to calculate a
young lady's true Carrying Capacity.

As you might imagine, The Coach was personally responsible for the
development of many of the specialized exercise programs mentioned
earlier, and one of these was Vaginal Weight Lifting.  

"Settle down now, Miss Jensen, and let's begin, shall we?" the man
remarked in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.  "When I tell you to do
so, I want you to bear down on the instrument."  With that, he pushed
upward on the sinister device, crushing the head of the thing tightly
up into the deepest part of Keri and causing her to inhale sharply.
"Why don't you give it a little test squeeze, Miss Jensen.  Will you
do that for me, please," the Coach solicited in his calm and clinical
manner.

Keri stared at him in astonishment and was about to voice her
displeasure, but fortunately for her she thought better of that idea.
Keri had managed to regain a modicum of composure, and the cramping
that had initially wracked her had thankfully lessened, leaving her
with an uncomfortable sort of bloated feeling in her belly.  She tried
not to think about the source of that bloating and what the maligned
little man was doing to her, but he seemed bent upon humiliating and
demeaning her in spite of her best efforts to resist.  As if violating
her with the brutal device wasn't bad enough, the Coach expected for
her to participate in her own rape.  Not for the last time she vowed
to get even with these demonic perverts, but exactly when that happy
day would come was highly uncertain.  Once again  Keri Jensen was
forced to abandon her self-respect, and comply with the wishes of a
partner not of her choosing, and in so doing she unwittingly
progressed another step forward along the road to right thinking.

Carefully she flexed her muscles around the invasive mass, gauging its
dimensions and depth, and thanks to the Thelazine enhanced nerve
endings within her internal reproductive system, a surprisingly clear
image of the abominable phallus formed in Keri's mind.  She imagined
that she could visualize its every contour and feel each and every
simulated vein along its shaft.

"Harder, Miss Jensen.  Visualize a man's cock within you.  Feel its
bulk and its weight.  Bear down harder, please.  Embrace it.  Hold it
inside of you, Miss Jensen," the horrible little man instructed.  "Do
you understand me, Miss Jensen?"  

Keri's mind reeled with a tumult of thoughts and emotions.  She was
incensed and outraged, of course, but the sensation of the consuming
bulk in her belly tended to occupy a goodly portion of her thinking.
It was terribly distracting.  She nodded dumbly toward the man
kneeling before her, his hand between her legs.  Again she flexed her
muscles, harder this time.  The effort made her tummy ache a little,
but it didn't really hurt in the true sense of the word.

"You're pushing, Miss Jensen.  Don't push.  I want you to learn to
pull with your muscles," the Coach said to her.

"Huhh...w..what?" Keri asked breathlessly, glancing downward.

"Concentrate, Miss Jensen.  Think about the time you had to use the
restroom badly, but none was available.  Use those muscles," the Coach
explained patiently.  "In a minute I'm going to let go, and I expect
you to hold the instrument inside of you.  Grip it tightly and don't
relax until I tell you to do so.  Do you understand, Miss Jensen?"

"Nnn.. I..I.. W..wait!" Keri stammered.

"Begin," the Coach told her and released the acrylic penis.

Almost immediately the heavy object fell from within Keri and landed
between her feet.  The sound it made was much like that of a large wet
salami slapping down onto the rubber mat.  Keri stared down at the
loathsome abomination for a second before glancing sheepishly in the
Coach's direction.

"My dear Miss Jensen," the older man began, with obvious displeasure.
"That was a highly unsatisfactory performance.  As I suspected, we
have a lot of work to do," he admonished her as he reached down and
picked up the disgusting  plastic implement.  He held it up so Keri
could get a better look at it, and as he did, he ran his index finger
down the length of its shaft.  "It appears that you are
self-lubricating acceptably, Miss Jensen," he told her as he rubbed
his fingers together.  

Even from a few feet away, Keri could plainly see that the Coach's
fingertips glistened with moisture, and she knew all too well from
whence that moisture came.  In spite of the utterly deplorable
circumstances in which she found herself, Keri recognized that she was
becoming aroused somehow, at least physically, and the knowledge of
this was deeply troubling to the pretty teenager.  How could she be
responding to this despicable man's attentions, physically or
otherwise?  What had happened to her resolve?  "Was she turning into
some kind of slut or something?"  Keri shivered at the thought.

The Coach waited patiently, watching the girl's expressions.  He knew
precisely what was going through her mind, for he'd seen the very same
reaction hundreds of times before.  She was trying to come to grips
with the fact that her Thelazine enhanced reproductive physiology was
exhibiting signs of sexual arousal.  As intended that realization was
extremely disturbing to the confused young woman, and would eventually
go a long way toward eroding her confidence and overall self-image.
And as was clearly noted in her file, Miss Keri Marie Jensen had many,
many years of societal prejudice and misconceived notions regarding
her roll as a female that would need to be unlearned before any real
progress could be made.  The Coach was confident, however, that
eventually Keri, like every young lady he'd come to know over the
years, would come around and join the TYTC Family.  It was only a
matter of time.  

If the truth be known, considering her age and background, the
attractive eighteen year old was making surprisingly good progress.
Anthony, her Principal Handler, had made some complimentary entries in
her records recently, indicating that in spite of her overall arrogant
demeanor, the attractive teenager was beginning cooperate with at
least some of her partners.  Additionally Keri hadn't necessitated the
need for a Group Corrective Opportunity nor had she been CC'd in
nearly five days, which in itself is quite remarkable for a Guest
during her first month in residence.  Naturally there were a few
protocols that she continued to balk at, but no one was in a hurry.
There would be plenty of time for Keri to adapt.  

The Headmaster had made it abundantly clear to her fiancé, Mr.
Baldwin, that often as not a girl such as Keri would require several
months in order to become accustomed to her newly assumed
responsibilities.  The young man had been quite understanding, really,
declaring that if what he'd been told was true about the remarkable
transformations one could expect in graduates of the Center, then it
would be well worth the wait.

Ironically at that very moment Keri was leaning upon her belief that
her beau, Jeffery Baldwin, would soon rescue her, to regain her
composure and buoy up her flagging confidence.  Visions of Jeffery and
his squad of SWAT team members bursting into the disgusting gymnasium,
and sweeping the cowardly band of white clad rapists ahead of them
like so many sheep, allowed Keri to regroup.  She drew a deep draft of
cool air into her lungs, and then squaring her shoulders, she glared
down at the hateful little man at her feet through squinted eyes and
with all the contempt she could muster. 

The Coach, of course, identified the girl's posturing for what it was;
a last gasp confidence builder, and acted accordingly.  With little to
no forewarning he dropped his hand between Keri's legs, located her
vaginal portal with one deft swipe along her carnal cleft from back to
front with the head of the clear acrylic instrument, followed by a
swift twisting thrust, he drove big dildo home again, clearly to the
surprise and dismay of the pretty teenager.  The professional man
couldn't help but smile as her once defiant facial expression
instantly changed to one of stunned disbelief.  Keri's hazel eyes grew
round, her mouth fell open and a barely audible groan escaped her lips
as the Coach skillfully seated the broad head of the instrument deeply
into the fornix area of her birth canal.  Then making eye contact with
her, he stated in a calm voice as though he was passing the time of
day, "Let's try again, shall we, Miss Jensen."  He pushed upward
firmly on the butt end of the impaling plastic penis, causing Keri to
rise up onto the balls of her feet in order to lessen the consuming
pressure in her belly.

"Mmmphh," she grunted softly through her nose and shut her eyes
tightly, temporarily blotting out the heinous scene of the TYTC
Gymnasium and the diabolical Coach who ran it.

"Be still, Miss Jensen and look at me, please," the man said, dragging
Keri back to the present.  

Opening her eyes she stared at him in stunned silence.  In her belly
the broad head of the reprehensible dildo delved ever deeper, forcing
aside moist, convoluted tissues and touching places once untouched.
Keri began to have difficulty focusing on anything other than the mass
within her.  Her eyes were turning inward.  Keri was slowly becoming
Womb Centered.

"That's better," the Coach murmured, noting the somewhat absent
expression on her the teenager's face.  "I want you to concentrate
this time, young lady," he went on.  "Turn your thoughts inward.  Feel
the weight, Miss Jensen.  Grasp and pull with your muscles.  You have
the natural ability, but like most young women, you simply were never
taught to use it."  

Keri couldn't believe what she was hearing.  "The man was an insane
monster.  In fact, the whole morning was insane!" Keri concluded.
"Was this really happening?"  her beleaguered thoughts queried
repeatedly, seeking to escape this reality and move into another less
distressing one, but each time she thought she might actually find a
way out, the steady thrusting pressure deep within the core of her
femininity drew Keri back to where she stood, feet widely separated
upon the vinyl padding of the TYTC Gymnasium.  The little man kneeling
before her was speaking again.

"Are you ready, Miss Jensen?" he asked.

"H...huh?  Wha...what?" Keri asked stupidly.  In answer she heard the
sickening "slap" of the heavy phallus dropping to the mat once again.

The Coach said nothing for practically a full minute, after retrieving
the apparatus from between Keri's feet.  Then looking up at her he
spoke, "This simply will not do. Miss Jensen."  His voice carried no
signs of vehemence, but its tone had definitely changed.  For the
first time since meeting the strange little man Keri felt the prick of
fear.  "You appear to be unwilling to concentrate and to focus your
efforts, young lady."  He stared up at her ominously.  "This
instrument weighs only slightly more than one pound," the Coach said,
rising to his feet.  "Furthermore, it's intended to be used as a
`handle' only," he added, slapping the clear acrylic phallus lightly
against his palm.

Although Keri was sorely tempted to tell him to go straight to hell,
based upon the hint of malevolence she thought she'd just detected in
the man's voice, she elected to remain silent for the moment.
Besides, she had no idea what he was talking about.  "A handle?" she
puzzled.  Once again her rage began to perk to the surface like molten
lava.  All Keri knew for certain was that the filthy little man seemed
completely at ease with having just raped her.  "Any day now," she
muttered under her breath.  "Any day now her `Prince Charming' would
come for her, and then all of these perverts would pay!" Keri assured
herself.  Meanwhile, however, the head pervert was speaking to her
again.

"What we are trying to accomplish, Miss Jensen, is to strengthen your
pitifully inadequate internal musculature.  Although you seem fully
capable of accommodating a reasonably well proportioned partner, it is
quite obvious that you have never concerned yourself with your
performance.  This exercise should be easy for a woman of your age and
experience.  Just yesterday I had a young lady maintain a grip on an
eight pound weight for a full minute."  He then fell silent, giving
the uneasy teenager a chance  to ponder her fate.

For an uncomfortably long period of time, the Coach stood before the
head strong young woman, staring at her dourly.  Then without a word,
he moved to the stainless steel storage cabinet, and after wiping the
big acrylic phallus clean with a towel, he returned it to a shelf
containing several similar appliances of varying sizes and shapes.

Keri watched the Coach out of the corner of her eye, and as he closed
the doors of the metal cabinet she dared to hope that he was giving up
on her, at least for the time being.  She also mistakenly allowed
herself to believe that she'd won another battle.  

Passive resistance had worked for her more than once during her period
of imprisonment by these perverted men in white.  It took tremendous
force of will for her to disassociate herself with the atrocities
being performed upon her body, but Keri possessed such strength of
character; at least in the beginning.  

Just that morning, however, while one of the foul monsters was having
his way with her in the shower facility, Keri'd been shocked by the
unexpected onset of physical sensations and emotions she'd not
experienced in a long time.  As a shimmering warmth began to spread
throughout her belly and down the insides of her thighs she'd caught
herself leaning back against the man who thrust into her from behind.
Keri loathed having sex in this manner, finding it demeaning and very
unladylike.  In fact, prior to finding herself interned in the House
of Horrors, she'd never allowed anyone to take her from behind.  In
any case, it had represented a considerable blow to the ego of the
overbearing teenager when she'd suddenly realized the degree of her
involvement in what was nothing short of a forcible, public rape.
Ever since that unsettling experience, Keri'd done her best to
maintain an air of self-assurance in her dealings with the monsters in
white, however, the murmurs of self-doubt lingered at the periphery of
her conscious mind, whispering to her and slowly eroding the
foundations of her self-image.  As Keri Jensen would discover in time,
the professionals at The Youth Training Center knew exactly how to
capitalize on any chink in her armor, meticulously enlarging the
emotional breach until the shield wall of her feminine belief system
eventually crashed down in ruin.

"Pay attention, Miss Jensen!" the Coach demanded.  Keri looked at him
blankly.  "I instructed you to move your feet to Position One.  Do so
now, please," he said in a way that left the attractive teen with
little doubt that he was losing patience with her very quickly.  Keri
kept her head and slowly moved her feet together as the wicked man
stepped to her side.  Then placing one hand onto her tummy and the
other on the small of her back, the Coach guided Keri, seeing to it
that her feet were positioned just so. 

"You have an attention deficiency, don't you, Miss Jensen," he said to
Keri as without compunction he moved both hands downward
simultaneously until his fingertips met between her legs.

"No...I," the pretty teen answered shaking her head as she glanced
down quickly in reaction to the latest invasion upon her privacy.
He'd caught her completely off guard again.  "Do these men have no
shame?" Keri caught herself thinking as she felt the man's fingertips
seeking her primary abdominal entrances.

"Oh, I think you do, Miss Jensen," the Coach countered.  "I think that
what we have mistaken for obstinance is in reality an inability to
prioritize and to focus, but you may rest assured that we will adjust
your routine right away in order to accommodate your needs."

Keri turned and made eye contact with the repugnant little man at her
side.  She opened her mouth to rebut him, but all that came forth was
a shuddering groan as the Coach's middle fingers each found an
opening, and before Keri realized it, she was compromised.  Her
expression clearly depicted her astonishment and humiliation as the
Coach lifted upward then pulled outward with each hand, lifting and
separating Keri while expertly positioning his invading digits so as
to deliver the greatest degree of presence. 

"Nnnn..uuungh!" Keri grunted viscerally as she rose up onto her
tiptoes in an effort to relieve the tensile stress on her perineum.
She felt as is she was being torn in half.

"Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach barked as he shoved his two fingers
together then pulled them apart repeatedly, working the girl,
loosening her up and generating some very pleasing moist, snapping
sounds.  Keri shuddered violently as the hateful little man
manipulated her private flesh in this utterly dehumanizing manner.

"That's the idea, Miss Jensen," the Coach vocalized as he lifted her
up onto her toes again and again.  "Concentrate on your pussy, and
let's work those muscles.  Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax...
Squeeze..Relax.  That's right.  That's the way.  Keep doing that, Miss
Jensen.  Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax," the
despicable man coached her as if she was performing a cheerleading
routine.

"Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax," he continued
until Keri thought she would go out of her mind.  She couldn't
remember ever having been so humiliated, and again she vowed vengeance
upon The Training Center and the band of degenerates in its employ.

"Pay attention, Miss Jensen!" the Coach snapped as though he could
read her thoughts and knew somehow that her mind had wandered.
"Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax...
Squeeze..Relax...Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax."

Long before Keri exhibited any outward signs of deliberate
participation, her female reproductive anatomy began to respond to the
Coach's attentions encouraged by the marvelous drug, Thelazine.  As
mentioned earlier the teenager was already self-lubricating, and
although she hadn't realized it yet, Keri's Vaginal Pelvic Floor
Muscles had begun to move in time to her partner's cadence as well.
Were the Coach to continue, her hips would soon begin to roll, subtly
at first, and then with increasing enthusiasm until in the end the
young teenager would become an integral participant in the activity.

"Yes, Coach," the man in white spoke with courtesy and respect.

Keri glanced at the guy reflexively and was immediately reprimanded.
"Pay attention, Miss Jensen!  Eyes to the front, and concentrate," the
Coach barked.  "Squeeze..Relax... Squeeze..Relax..."  

With an effort the attractive teenager returned her gaze to the
mirrored wall ahead of her, where her own miserable reflection rose up
onto the balls of her feet again and again.  The newest arrival stood
off to one side behind the Coach and at such an angle that Keri
couldn't see him in the mirror, but during that one quick glance she'd
noticed that he was both large and powerfully built.  Curiously, he
looked somehow familiar, but how could that be?  In any case, Keri had
the sickening suspicion that she and the big Handler were about to get
better acquainted.

The Coach addressed the man, and as he did he slipped his fingers out
of Keri who slowly lowered her heals to the mat and sighed quietly.
"Good morning, Matthew.  Thank you for responding so promptly."  

Keri shuddered and struggled to suppress a groan of disgust as after
placing one hand onto the small of her back, the revolting little man
traced with the middle finger of his other hand from her closely
cropped pubic bush upward over her rounded tummy, leaving a pronounced
trail of vaginal fluid behind.  Keri refused to look at him, knowing
full well that he was smiling at her.

"Always ready to lend a hand," the other man replied in the cheerful
manner that Keri hated so.  "Besides, Jack and I had just finished up
with Miss Kournikova's morning `doubles match' when you beeped me, so
I'm free for awhile."

"That's where she'd seen the man before," Keri thought to herself.
"He was the one whom she'd watched sodomize Anna Kournikova.  Was
there no end to the madness?" Keri wondered dejectedly.

"How did it go with Miss Kournikova today?" the Coach inquired as he
once again knelt on the padded mat next to Keri.

"She's still having difficulty mastering her passage management
routines," the Handler named Matthew explained as he circled slowly
around Keri, studying her with a clinical eye.  "In particular when it
comes to alternating control.  She seems quite capable of entertaining
multiple partners now without additional supervision which represents
a major leap forward for our little tennis star.  You remember what a
handful she was early on."  Both men nodded and rolled their eyes.

Because no one would ever think to countermand his instructions here
in the TYTC Gymnasium, the Coach was careful to couch his remarks as
casual suggestions so as not to inadvertently usurp his colleague's
authority.  Miss Kournikova had been officially assigned to Matthew by
her original Handler, Rick Adams who'd taken over as Headmaster upon
Mr. North's retirement.  There was no question that Matthew was a
gifted and capable Handler.  He'd started as a Transport Tech eight
years ago and quickly worked his way up through the ranks, by
demonstrating such desirable personal qualities as intuitiveness,
professionalism and patience.  His exceptional progress with the
audacious blond tennis celebrity was certainly proof of Matthew's
abilities as a Handler, for to say that Miss Kournikova was a
"handful" in the beginning could easily qualify as the understatement
of the century.

"I've recently reprogrammed two of our "Silent Partners" to provide
alternating multi-passage impetus, and if you're interested, perhaps
we might schedule Miss Kournikova for a couple of hours of workout
time and see how she responds."

Stopping directly in front of Keri, Matthew addressed his more tenured
colleague.  "That is an excellent suggestion, Coach.  Jack was going
to run her down to Cleaning and Hygiene following this morning's
workout, and then I believe she's scheduled for a GYN exam just before
lunchtime."  

Standing virtually toe to toe with Keri as he spoke, the Handler
scrutinized her from mere inches away, and all the while he maintained
a perfectly neutral facial expression.  His close proximity to her was
very intimidating and awkward for Keri who, of course, was expected to
maintain direct eye contact with the man.  She picked up on much of
what the two men were discussing, and although she didn't understand
some of the technical stuff, Keri heard enough to start the pent up
anger, seething just beneath the surface of her consciousness, perking
again and on its way to a rolling boil.  

"How could these slimy bastards treat another human being in such a
manner!" her outrage cried as she stared into Matthew's dark eyes.
Keri'd long ago come to the conclusion that the Handlers were all
totally insane; every last one of them, but were they completely
devoid of compassion as well?  "Have you no conscience at all?" she
marveled incredulously.  "How can you discuss the methodical rape of a
young woman and feel nothing?"  Keri's  eyes narrowed ever so slightly
as she fought to control her mounting rage.  "You're all nothing more
than a pack of animals; aren't you?" she hissed silently, and if
thoughts could kill there wouldn't have beeen a soul left alive in the
TYTC Gymnasium.  She felt instantly better, having arrived at that
conclusion, and as a fleeting sense of confidence washed over her,
Keri's chin rose a tiny, tiny bit.  

First of all, what Keri failed to fully understand with regards to her
dealings with members of the TYTC staff was just how incredibly
perceptive these men really were, and for this reason she would
continue to misunderstand their motives and underestimate their
capabilities.  Secondly, as we all know, thoughts cannot kill, and
although Keri had managed to dig deep and find another small reserve
of inner strength from which she could draw, her confidence would be
short lived, and no matter how hard she tried to wish these men in
white to death, they were not going anywhere and neither was she.

Standing eye to eye with Keri, Matthew caught every nuance of her
facial expression and body language.  After observing her for only a
few moments there was no doubt in his mind that this young woman was
allowing herself to become overly distracted by anger.  Even before
the Coach confirmed it Matthew had diagnosed Keri as having an
attention deficiency.  Many young ladies did when they first come into
residence, and it seemed that the older they were, the worse the
problem could be.  The treatment, of course, would be to provide the
Miss Jensen with enough structured activities to keep her mind
occupied and focused in a more constructive direction.

And that is precisely why the Coach had called upon Matthew; not just
for his perceptiveness and intuition, although Matt was blessed with
both.  The young Handler also enjoyed a reputation of a different
nature.  

In addition to qualities such as intelligence and common sense,
physical prowess is also a very important attribute the Center looks
for in choosing its employees.  The very nature of a TYTC Handler's
daily routine requires him (or her) to be in top notch physical shape.
A Handler must be able to maintain control of his charges without
having to resort to violence.  He must be capable of stepping in and
defusing a problem quickly and efficiently before the perpetrator can
cause injury to herself or to others, and more often than not, this
requires good old-fashioned, brute strength and agility.  For this
reason, the vast majority of men in the employ of The Youth Training
Center are powerfully built and very athletic.

Matthew had these qualities in spades.  At six feet, three inches in
height and two hundred thirty-five pounds, there were precious few
situations involving the Guests that he could not handle.  Matthew's
reputation among his peers, however, wasn't about strength in the true
sense of the word.  More so it involved stamina, stamina of a sexual
nature.  Rumor had it amongst the rank and file that Matthew could
stay with any three young ladies.  He is said have, on more than one
occasion, worked with a Guest until she passed out from sheer fatigue,
and all the while maintaining flawless control of her level of
arousal.  Matthew wasn't an overly large man with regard to the size
and girth of his penis, however, what he had, he wielded with
remarkable skill.  The standing joke was that you didn't want to ask
Matthew to join your Corrective Copulation session (CC) or Group
Cooperation Opportunity (GCO), because no one else would get a turn.  

A large part of a TYTC Handler's training involves learning how to
control one's own degree of ardor as well as managing the level of
arousal his Guest/Partner will achieve during a given engagement.
Handler Candidates spend many hours in training in the company of
young ladies known to be difficult or deficient in some fashion.  In a
supervised environment the trainees master the subtleties of control
and hone their problem solving abilities long before they must
interact with the general population.  It's a demanding occupation
requiring exceptional presence of mind and self-discipline.  Not every
candidate makes the grade, but those who do join the ranks of a select
group of individuals unrivaled in their ability to anticipate and
train the human female.

In addition to having a reputation for stamina "in the sack", Matthew
was also known for his exceptional recuperative powers.  Not ten
minutes earlier he'd finished up with the Kournikova woman after
having worked with her vaginally by himself for nearly an hour.  Then
in concert with another Handler, he'd participated in a menage a trois
with the young, blond, tennis celebrity in which Matthew had
administered the anal portion of the engagement.  

As mentioned earlier, Anna Kournikova was assigned to Matthew who
oversaw her training program.  He was her Principal Handler.  Because
she was an accomplished athlete, and quite fit, to say nothing of her
negative attributes such as stubbornness and arrogance,  the
Administrative Department elected to turn the feisty blond over to
Matthew, believing that he would be best suited for the lead position.
Other's assisted, of course, but it was he who scheduled her training
sessions and monitored her progress.  Things were a bit tumultuous in
the beginning, but Matthew quickly proved that he was indeed the right
man for the job.  Miss Kournikova could be headstrong and impertinent,
prone to tempestuous but not wholly unpredictable flare-ups of
unhealthy behavior, but like any female she also responded to a well
defined set of guidelines, proven effective with hundreds of young
women over a span of nearly twenty years.

Ten months ago, Miss Kournikova became a Guest of The Youth Training
Center, and in spite of a somewhat "rocky" beginning, she has made
remarkable progress.  Due primarily to the efforts and guidance of
Matthew Hollister.  A lot of work still remained with regards to the
young celebrity's journey along that "road less traveled", but all in
all she was doing exceptionally well.  Matthew was quite proud of her.
This morning's activities had marked Miss Kournikova's fourth multiple
partner engagement.  Granted, she needed to practice her passage
management protocols, but considering she'd only been accepting
partners anally without the need for restraint for less than three
weeks, the session this morning had gone very smoothly.  Both Matthew
and his colleague, Jack had inseminated her, and because the high
strung blond had accepted their joint offerings silently and
tractably, Matt had rewarded her by staying with her for a few minutes
following his ejaculation, and then allowing her to achieve orgasm; a
privilege which must always be earned.

Soon Matthew would be called upon to perform once more, and everyone
knew he was up to it, particularly the Coach.  From his kneeling
position beside the young woman the senior Handler exchanged unspoken
instructions with his younger colleague.  Both men knew the routine,
and as the Coach picked up the black torpedo shaped CAP Device and
readied it for insertion, Matthew held the Jensen girl's attention.
She bristled a bit when he reached down and began tugging almost
playfully at her sparse pubic curls.  Her hazel eyes grew wide for a
second and then bored into Matthew with all the vehemence and malice
she could muster, but to her credit, she remained silent.

"When did you last entertain a lover, Miss Jensen?" the young Handler
asked, catching Keri off guard with his question.

She'd been steeling herself against the loathsome Standard Greeting
which she knew was inevitable, and therefor was expecting a more
innocuous question; her name, for example.  Keri held her breath,
feeling the demented man's fingers toy with her soft golden curls,
tugging here and there between her thighs, then up to her prominent
mons and back down between her legs again. She knew full well that any
second now the demon in white would push one or more of his filthy
fingers up inside of her as casually as though he were shaking her
hand.  

"Open your eyes, Miss Jensen, and answer my question, please," the
Handler ordered.  

Thankfully he removed his hand from between her thighs, at least for
the time being.  She hadn't realized that she'd shut her eyes.  Keri
knew that was against the rules.  The monsters in white always
insisted that she look them directly in the eye while they molested
her.  

"I..I.. B..but," Keri stammered stupidly while trying to collect her
thoughts.

Meanwhile her tormentor moved his big hands to her breasts, hefting
first one and then the other.  Then taking her right nipple between
his thumb and index finger, the Handler repeated his request.
Something which didn't happen too often.

"It's a simple question, Miss Jensen," Matthew stated succinctly.  He
watched her face closely as he shook her breast gently from side to
side, holding her by the nipple.  She was definitely disoriented and
flustered, but beneath that thin layer of confusion an intense
loathing seethed.  Matthew could see it in her eyes, churning and
bubbling like magma.  It was his responsibility now to help the young
woman to identify her genuine priorities and to focus upon a new
reality.  She must be willing to cast away the trappings of her old
life with all of its myths and vagaries, and recognize her true place
in the grand scheme of things.  Only then could she hope to become a
fully functional female.

"Jesus, she's angry!" Matthew thought to himself, but he knew that her
condition was temporary.  "She's only been with us for a little over a
week," he reflected.  "And she no doubt still thinks of our techniques
as molestation and rape," Matt reminded himself as he dropped the
right breast and then carefully lifted the left, noting its mass and
its weight.  He glanced again, unnoticed by the girl, in the Coach's
direction and received an almost imperceptible nod.

"When did you last take a lover?" Matthew asked, locking eyes with the
young woman.  "You had a night partner last night, did you not?"

"She's regaining her composure," the Handler noted.  Her anger was
nearer the surface, ready to spew forth and incinerate him.

"Answer me, Miss Jensen," the young man in white ordered, using just
the right amount if command intonation.  Her eyes widened ever so
slightly; and a wash of fear overpowered the hate momentarily, but she
remained silent.  Cradling her breast in his left hand, Matthew
pinched a tiny bit of satiny flesh at the very perimeter of the areola
between his thumb and index finger of his right hand.  He then counted
to three in his head before applying pressure.

"Oww!  Fuck you, you perverted pig!" Keri squealed as a white hot bolt
of pain shot from the tip of her breast and up the left side of her
face, bringing tears to her eyes.  She was about elaborate upon her
feelings for Matthew which probably would not have gone at all well
for her, when the Coach deprived Keri of the opportunity.  

The CAP Device, propelled by a deft "thrust and twist" motion from the
Coach, first dilated the anal sphincter and then pushed aside the
walls of her rectum before coming to rest with its rounded tip
approximately two centimeters distal to her colon.  It all happened
with such speed and efficiency that although it felt to Keri like
someone had just punted a football up her ass, the insertion effect
with its associated breathlessness and cramping was short lived.
Following the usual forceful exhalation resulting from a sudden spasm
of the diaphragm, Keri stood somewhat glassy eyed for a minute while
her mind's eye monitored the internal assimilation process.  Inside of
her bowel, the highly specialized composite appliance moved inward a
tiny bit more as Keri's first anal sphincter closed around its tapered
neck, thereby seating the device securely into its new home.  Shifting
her hips unconsciously, Keri adjusted herself around the core presence
in her abdomen.  Her knees felt slightly rubbery, but that would soon
pass, and other than having to come to grips again emotionally with
the concept of Continuous Anal Presence, Keri was right as rain in
less than two minutes.  Unlike the first time she received her CAP,
her female anatomy appeared to welcome the remarkable instrument,
coddling it as though it were a part of her.  Incredible as it may
seem, already Keri's thought processes began to wrap themselves around
the new sense of fullness and completeness within the core of her
femininity, returning to it again and again as a source of focus and
stability.

"Now then, Miss Jensen," the Coach said with a little groan as he
regained his feet.  

"The old bones don't work as well as they used to," he mused, but at
almost sixty years of age the stout little man was in excellent shape
as several Guests who discovered this fact the hard was will attest
to.

"I too wish to know precisely when you last took a lover," the Coach
stated in a no-nonsense tone of voice.  Standing beside the young
woman, he placed the palm of his left hand onto the soft, rounded area
of her belly midway between her navel and the top of her pubic crest.

"Eyes to the front," Miss Jensen," Matthew ordered sternly when she
glanced quickly downward to the Coach's hand on her tummy and then to
her left where the older man stood. 

Keri obeyed, snapping her eyes back to those of the tall Handler
almost before she knew she was doing it.  She would never know how
these demons in white could order her around so effortlessly.  It was
like mind control at times, and it was infuriating as hell.  In fact,
Keri was in the process of coming up with a suitably disdainful retort
when she felt a hand come to rest on her left buttock.

"Did you entertain this morning following your morning cleaning and
toiletry, Miss Jensen?" the Coach asked pointedly.  As he spoke he
tapped lightly with one fingertip on the embossed numeral "8" in the
center of the puck-like butt end of the CAP Device which protruded
slightly from between the girl's shapely buttocks.

The highly conductive polymer matrix from which the devices were
fashioned conveyed the energy of the Coach's tapping with astonishing
efficiency, actually enhancing it along the way such that when it
arrived at the far end where the tiny rectal torpedo lay in close
proximity to the tip of Keri's spine, the amplified energy was
transferred directly to the base of her skeletal system and to the
spinal cord itself.  The effects were quite astonishing really, as the
force of each tap of the Coach's finger was instantly conducted to
practically every part of the teenager's body.  Beneath his palm on
her soft belly, the tenured Handler could feel a sympathetic "ticking"
of the uterine and abdominal muscles beneath her warm skin.  

To Keri, the sensations that the horrid instrument generated were far
more troubling.  It was the most invasive intrusion upon her person
that she could ever have imagined.  Subtle, thrumming waves resonated
through every nerve and fiber of her body, reflecting back and forth
until their origins were lost.  It was as though someone had crawled
into her skin and was trying to get out.  The sensation was so foreign
and unsettling that Keri actually experience mild vertigo and its
associated nausea.  

"Entertain a lover!" Keri's mind shrieked in outrage.  More than
anything else about the House of Horrors, Keri despised the euphemisms
the Handlers used in an attempt to justify and legitimize their foul
deeds.  "Entertain a lover, my ass!" she snarled silently as she
stared straight ahead into Matthew's dark eyes.  "I was raped twice
this morning, you mean," the pretty teenager brooded.

The thrumming energy waves continued to rebound inside of her, making
it very difficult for Keri to concentrate on anything else.  Even
though she knew she would be punished, Keri had every intention of
speaking out and calling a spade, a spade, so you can imagine her
surprise when her eventual response came in the form of a timid nod of
her head and a simple, "Uh huh."

Both Matthew and the Coach knew precisely how many times and with whom
the Jensen girl had engaged in intercourse since her arrival at the
Center.  Each and every occasion was duly logged in her personal file
and became a matter of public record within the confines of the
institution.  At any time, any staff member could access her file
should they require personal data for any reason.  Keri Marie Jensen,
like every Guest of TYTC, was an open book.  There was nothing about
her; emotionally, physically, sexually or otherwise that was in any
way confidential, from the number of cosmetic dental caps she had on
her teeth to the size tampon she used.  In addition to providing
current information on the Guests, the complete and utter lack of
personal privacy is a powerful tool used in the process of eroding a
young lady's image of self.  The goal being the negation of a defined
self-image and the eventual transference of self-determination to her
significant or life partner.  

"I see, Miss Jensen," Matthew responded.  "So I think it's safe to say
that it's not from a lack of opportunity that your problem stems.
Wouldn't you agree?"  

When Keri responded with a confused look, the Handler elaborated.

"Our staff is providing you with adequate sexual attention, correct?"
the Handler stated in all seriousness.

Keri was too stunned to answer.  She simply couldn't believe her ears.
Not for the last time she found herself marveling at the total lack of
humanity with which these men carried out their diabolical purpose on
a daily basis.  It was as though nothing that was believed to be true
or held sacred by the rest of the human race existed here.  There was
no compassion and no leniency; no love and no desire.  Right and wrong
no longer existed.  Keri's reality existed only within the confines of
the madhouse known as The Youth Training Center in which the men in
white defined truth.

A couple of days ago, during a very rare period of time in which she'd
found herself alone, Keri had reflected upon her daily reality at The
Youth Training Center.  She was forced to share her bed with a
different man each night, thus her day always began with a
non-consensual sexual act.  Whoever she woke up with would become her
first "lover" du jour.  Following her early morning molestation which
often began before she awoke, Keri would be escorted to Cleaning and
Hygiene where she would endure using the "toilet" in front of an
audience of perhaps a dozen observers.  It was utterly dehumanizing.
There was no such thing as toilet tissue in the House of Horrors.
When Keri finished she would be cleaned by hand by her attendant, or
by anyone in the audience who chose to assist.  Next came her "bath".
Actually it was more of a cross between a car wash and a strip search,
during which Keri would be systematically cleaned from head to toe,
inside and out.  It was not at all uncommon for the "bathing" routine
to be interrupted by someone wishing to have sex with her.  Which
meant, of course, that the cleaning process would have to be repeated.

One thing the pretty teenager discovered very quickly about her status
relative to the monsters in white; she was theirs for the taking,
anytime, anywhere, by anyone; no questions asked.  Being a person of
strong will and character, Keri naturally had a lot of difficulty in
the beginning with this policy and others.  

Prior to her abduction the attractive young woman had allowed herself
to be bedded on only a very few occasions, and each of those occasions
bore a substantial price of some sort.  In other words, Keri Jensen
was not one to "give it away".  

Needless to say, after joining the TYTC family Keri was obliged to
re-think her position on that personal standard as well as many
others, and it was bitter medicine to swallow.  However, after her
third or forth gang rape (Group Cooperative Opportunity), Keri
conceded that one non-consensual lover ["God they had her thinking
that way already!"] was far better than six or even ten.

Following her "bath", Keri's scheduled day began with, and mostly
consisted of a succession of indiscriminate sexual atrocities
performed upon her at will by any number of individuals!  More often
than not these "exercises" or "encounters" as they were called,
involved direct sexual intercourse with yet another stranger or
strangers, but not always.

Sometimes there were machines and physical restraints and instruments
of unspeakable design and function.  It wasn't torture per say, for
there was rarely pain involved.  Unless, of course, Keri chose to
resist.  One thing was certain, though.  Keri Jensen was now
intimately familiar with each and every orifice and passage in her
body;  where they started, where they went and how deeply each could
be probed.  

These repugnant "examinations" were sometimes performed "in private",
but often as not Keri was defiled before of an audience.  The training
classes were the worst, and thankfully she'd only had to endure one
such session so far.  

The training classes were how the monsters in white replenished their
numbers, although Keri couldn't imagine how they ever found men
desirous of such a demented lifestyle.  Apparently such individuals
existed, however, because at Keri's first training session, the room
had contained at least thirty leering faces as she and two other
terrified young women were led onto the dais.  Her memories of the
"encounter" were nothing but a blur of faces and hands and penises;
lots of penises.  Keri would never be certain, but she figured that
she'd been forcibly raped by at least a dozen different men.  The
worst part of the ordeal had been the fact that the two other girls
had been attacked and defiled at the same time right there on the
stage next to Keri, where she could see and hear their pitiful
reactions to multiple assailants.  What cut to the very core of the
tiny amount of dignity she had left was the realization that she had
doubtlessly behaved much the same as the other unfortunate young women
on that dreadful afternoon; grunting and groaning and bathed in sweat
and semen.  

Meals were served three times a day in what passed for a cafeteria,
but like everything else in the House of Horrors, that facility
enjoyed an evil twist as well.  Keri hadn't been in residence long
enough yet to be introduced to the feeding protocols, but she fully
expected to be subjected to it any day now.  It was difficult to
maintain an appetite while watching another woman being forced to
perform oral sex on a man, and although Keri had never allowed a man
to do that to her, but she had the sneaking suspicion that all that
was about to change.  For now, though, Keri did her best to finish her
meals in relative peace by averting her eyes to the atrocities going
on all around her.  There was another curious and probably disgusting
aspect to the TYTC Cafeteria, having to do with the food itself.  It
appeared that everything they served was liberally covered with a
musky tasting white sauce that Keri couldn't seem to identify.  It was
very weird.

Evenings for the Guests of The Youth Training Center consisted of what
one might expect.  The girls were generally pretty tired following a
full day of organized activity, so bedtime usually came early, unless
there was a staff party scheduled.

Keri recalled her first full night within the walls of the House of
Horrors with sickening clarity.  She'd about reached the end of her
rope, by the time evening arrived.  It had been the kind of day a
person only reads about in tales by The StoryMaster.  

Beginning with her abduction, the situation had rapidly deteriorated
from there.  Keri Marie was exhausted, having attempted to fight off
no less than two heinous attacks upon her person.  Unfortunately her
efforts had ended in failure, so in addition to being extremely
fatigued, she was pretty sore as well.  Naturally she was frightened
for her safety, but after having endured much pawing and prodding by a
faceless group of perverts dressed in clean white coveralls, Keri was
mostly angry.  She had no idea what The Youth Training Center was all
about or why she was there, but if her first day was any indication of
what was to come, her future was less than rosy.  

She'd seen other young women who, like herself, were stripped naked,
but she hadn't gotten an opportunity to speak to any of them.  Mostly
the morning had been a frenzy of "medical exams", although none of the
men who administered them struck Keri as being doctors.  Oh, they were
trained and trained well, but in what, the unhappy teenager had no
earthly idea.  She'd been bathed (literally) and fed, and then some
time during the afternoon - there were no clocks - she'd been taken to
meet the Headmaster.

Usually a Guest's Double "I" or Induction Interview is performed the
very first thing after she regains consciousness in Recovery.  That
morning, however, a problem of one kind or another had come up, so
Keri had not been able to talk to the man responsible for her
predicament until later in the day.

The interview had not gone well.  It turned out that Rick Adams, the
current TYTC Headmaster, was just exactly the type of personality that
Keri loved to hate.  Perhaps it was because both she and Adams were
possessed of unusually strong characters.  Both were opinionated and
outspoken, and in a normal debate venue the two of them might have
been evenly matched.  Rick Adams wasn't the one, however, who was
bound hand and foot to a hateful steel frame.  Rick Adams wasn't the
one who had his expensive designer clothing cut from his body piece by
piece by a big ape of a man dressed like the others in glowing white
coveralls.  And Rick Adams wasn't the one who was then forced to have
sexual intercourse with a third white clad monster while the other two
sat back and watched.  It was then that Keri had first vowed vengeance
upon the entire demented pack of perverts who called themselves
Handlers.  But specifically Keri promised a particularly sever form of
retribution who be visited upon Rick Adams.  That is if Keri had
anything to say about it.

After a day like that, anyone would be a little cranky, and Keri was
no exception.  So when she was later escorted to what would become her
"bedroom" by the man who'd watched her rape and not lifted a finger to
help her, Keri was in no mood for surprises.  Her escort's name was
Anthony, and Keri recalled the "Head Pervert" telling her that she was
assigned to the man, whatever that meant.

"Here we are, Miss Jensen," Anthony had told her, stopping in front of
an opening on the right side of a big corridor.  Above this opening
was the numeral "47".  "These are your sleeping quarters.  I suggest
you get some rest.  You are going to need your strength," the big man
said succinctly.  

"But there's no door," she'd commented lamely and received only a
smile from the man in white.  Later Keri would discover that there
were no doors on any of the Guest quarters, but she was simply too
worn out to care just then.

Keri was naked as the day she was born, and from what she'd been told
at the horrible interview she'd experience earlier, it was highly
likely that she would remain that way until she could find a way out
of this mad house.  Surprisingly the nudity didn't bother her too
much, but the unsolicited attentions of the men in white was totally
unacceptable, and already an escape plan was taking shape in Keri's
head as she stepped through the open doorway.  The lighting had been
dimmed for sleeping and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust.  She
noticed the big bed right away.  "Queen-size, at least," she thought.
There wasn't a need for a bureau since she wasn't wearing any clothes.
Slowly Keri's eyes became accustomed to the dimness and that's when
she noticed the man in the bed - in her bed!

Like most of Keri's early parings, the situation quickly deteriorated
from an exchange of expletives - mostly one way - into outright
bedlam.  The man had tried to explain to the irate teenager that he
was to be her "Night Partner" for the evening and then patted the bed
next to himself, indicating that she should climb on in.  Keri would
have none of it, however, and had already turned for the doorway to
make her exit when she felt something prick her in the right buttock.
She glanced down in time to see the man who'd been in the bed a second
ago, remove the hypodermic from her flesh.  Keri recalled wondering
how the man, who was quite large had made it across the room so
quickly, as he lifted her inert body from the floor and carried her to
the big bed.

Night Partnering for new Guests can often be difficult and traumatic.
Many Handlers use physical restraints for a few days until the girls
adjust to their new routines, but others believed that this method was
inherently noisy unless one included a gag which made oral sex
awkward.  Also there is the risk of a young lady injuring herself in
spite of the padded restraint systems in use today.

Keri's very first Night Partner - She never learned his name -
preferred the drug, Ketamine over physical restraint.  Used for years
by providers of live wild animals to zoos and theme parks, the drug is
both stable and predictable.  Dosages are reasonably forgiving, but
care should be taken when administering any drug.  The one
characteristic that makes Ketamine highly desirable for the Center's
use is that the compound only affects the motor nervous system.  It
does not cause the patient to become unconscious, but paralyzes only
the voluntary motor nerves, rendering her both alert and manageable.
As a bonus, the Ketamine approach is generally a lot quieter, because
when the Guest discovers that she can make only unintelligible
grunting sounds, but cannot form words, she will usually hold her
tongue and let the other residents of the dormitory get some much
needed rest.

Keri would never forget the crushing feeling of absolute helplessness
as the big man rolled her onto her back and then arranged her to his
liking.  Try as she might she could do nothing to prevent him from
lifting her knees upward until her heels practically touched her butt.
Then smiling into Keri's shocked and staring eyes he allowed her legs
to fall open, spreading her thighs almost painfully wide.  Next he
offered her a pillow, propping her head up, while explaining to her
that he wanted her watch while he made love to her.  

Keri didn't get a really good look at her assailant until he climbed
onto the bed and crawled between her legs, and even then her chance
came and went all too quickly.  

Noting the direction of the girl's shocked stare, the man grinned and
took his sizeable manhood in his right fist.  "You like what you see,
don't you baby," he purred as without the slightest hesitation he
leaned forward over the helpless young woman.  Supporting himself
above her with his brawny left arm, the man got right down to
business.  No further words were spoken, and there was no foreplay.
With his right hand her partner crushed the bulbous head of his big
cock into her pudendal cleft between her meaty labia majora.  To Keri,
it felt like he was pressing a hot billiard ball against her most
private flesh.  There was no hunting, for the professional man knew
his target very well.  A soft gurgling sound escaped from Keri's
throat as she accepted her third lover of the day -  Or was it her
forth?  Keri had quickly lost all track of time, but the big Handler
had fucked her for over an hour, driving his ten inch member into
Keri, first with long, measured strokes, and then on occasion
delivering an unexpected series of short, jabbing thrusts, designed to
keep the teenager off balance and thereby control the degree of her
arousal.  The man was indeed an expert, playing Keri like a prize
violin, and keeping her on the brink of orgasm for nearly an hour, but
never allowing her to climax. Rewards must be earned.  

As the last glimmer of consciousness fled she felt him move inside of
her.  The two lovers lay like spoons, his body pressed against her
back and his left arm draped over her shoulder.  Keri's right breast
was cradled in one hand, and his big cock gradually grew flaccid
inside of her.  All in all, it was a rather peaceful scene, and in
spite of the original circumstances of their coupling, Keri's last
thoughts of the day were of the warm and fuzzy variety as her lover
breathed softly behind her.

"You really do have an attention disorder, don't you, young lady,"
Matthew commented dryly, dragging Keri back to reality.

"No, I..." the somewhat flustered teenager tried to defend herself.
She realized that her cheeks were hot.  The vivid memories of her
early experiences had affected her more than she knew.

"I believe what you need, Miss Jensen, is a little "Matt Time" and
some one-on-one coaching," Matthew told her.  "No slight on Anthony's
abilities and judgement, but I think if we were to begin with some
rudimentary passage management exercises, it would give you something
concrete to concentrate on during intercourse and provide you with a
specific set of goals."

Keri began shaking her head slowly from side to side, and parted her
lips to speak, but Matthew anticipated her protest and cut her off.
"Let's drop down on all fours, Miss Jensen," the Handler spoke calmly.
"Please assume Service Position One," he added and took her right
hand.  "Coach, if you wouldn't mind helping Miss Jensen with her
posture and technique, I'll give her something to work with."

"Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach corrected her when a barely audible
groan escaped Keri's lips as Matthew eased into her from behind,
adding another name to her life list of intimate partners.  It wasn't
a particularly forceful thrust, and as always there was no foreplay or
preparation of any sort for Keri. She was simply taken; put on like a
comfortable pair of shoes but with a thoroughness that never failed to
surprise Keri.   "Head up.  Look at me, please, young lady," the older
man coached,  lifting her chin with two fingers.

"Relax your muscles, please, Miss Jensen," Matthew spoke from behind
her as he pulled back slowly on her flaring hips.  "She's not such a
bad fit, actually," the Handler commented to his colleague as he made
his way into the stunned girl.  "There's no question she is going to
require a lot of training and exercise, but she appears to have been
only lightly used for a young lady of her age.

The Coach smiled inwardly, watching the attractive teenager's nostrils
flare slightly as she monitored her lover's ingress with her mind's
eye.  Beneath her, Keri's rounded tummy bulged outward as the head of
Matthew's cock made a nest for itself deep in the area of her fornix.
Moving his hips up and down and then slowly from side to side, the
young Handler made certain that the girl was fully involved before
beginning the exercise.  Then squaring his shoulders, Matthew nodded
to the Coach who knelt beside her left shoulder.  "Arch, please, Miss
Jensen," Matthew instructed while pressing down on the small of her
back with his knuckles.  

"Come on, young lady.  Get that little ass up in the air!" the Coach
added his two cents worth.  "You know the drill.  Now concentrate.
You have a man's cock inside of you now, and you need to consider that
responsibility!" 

Two weeks ago Keri would have been shocked and incensed had anyone
even suggested that she would find herself in the situation she was in
now.  She simply would never have allowed anything even remotely like
this to happen.  Things had certainly changed.

"Alright, Miss Jensen.  Let's begin with the basics, shall we,"
Matthew said, getting a firmer grip on her love handles.  Then he
paused briefly.  "Are you paying attention, Miss Jensen?" the Handler
asked and tapped gently on the round, black puck lodged between her
buttocks.  Immediately Matthew felt the girl shift around him as her
vaginal muscles responded sympathetically to anal stimulation.  The
Handler figured that she was still "coupled", meaning her vaginal and
rectal muscles moved in concert rather than independently, but for now
that wasn't a concern.  "Answer me, Miss Jensen," Matthew demanded,
tapping on her CAP once more, and again he received a moderately firm
vaginal embrace.

The Coach, who was monitoring the girl's facial expressions noted a
prolonged blink followed by a slight quivering of her lower lip in
response to the gentle manipulation of her high tech anal appliance.
Then she nodded her head.

"Uh huh," Keri responded reluctantly.

"Uh huh, what, Miss Jensen?" the Coach prompted.  "Tell your partner
that you are paying attention and ready to begin the exercise, young
lady," 

If there was still some tiny ember of her former self-confidence still
glowing somewhere deep in her psyche, it must have flared at that
moment, for being made to participate in her own ravaging was more
than Keri could tolerate.  She gritted her teeth and remained
obstinately silent.  It was a small battle, but one she felt she
should fight.

Both of the professional men knew the exact nature of the battle she
waged.  In part the strife was between Keri and the two Handlers who
represented everything that was dark and diseased in her new world.
However a second skirmish had also broken out on an entirely different
front.  A part of Keri Jensen still clung defiantly to an old, tired
set of moral values, consisting largely of misinterpreted folklore and
outdated platitudes.  In fact, it was the same set of "truths" that
her mother had used to form Keri's original image of herself, and
because until now she'd known no other way, out of sheer habit the
teenager still used these outmoded guidelines to differentiate between
just and unjust, good and evil and moral and unchaste.  

"It's wrong!  It's dirty!  It's immoral!  It just isn't something nice
girls do!" her mother's voice rang in Keri's subconscious.  "She
should fight these wicked men.  They should not be allowed to treat
her in such a demeaning manner.  She'd show them!"

It was on this second subconscious front that the real war was being
waged on a daily basis.  On one side of the battle field Keri had
arrayed her moral warriors, armed with her many years of societal
programming.  From across her field of dreams, advanced an army
dressed in white, artful and patient, slowly and inexorably,
pinpointing every chink in Keri's armor.  Once identified, these tiny
breaks in her subconscious defense mechanisms were systematically
widened until Keri Jensen's inner female, her secret "little girl",
lay naked and exposed, stripped of everything she'd ever believed or
held sacred.  Then and only then would her spiritual thighs be spread.
Then and only then would she learn to accept lovers of a different
kind, lovers who knew far better than she her true wants and needs.
Then and only then would Keri be impregnated with a new truth and a
new reality.

It was nothing short of miraculous the change that came over the
Jensen girl resulting the from manipulation of her CAP Device.  The
Coach, in fact, was only barely able to suppress a grin when suddenly
Keri raised her head high like a champion show dog.  Gone were the
expressions of obstinance and contempt on her handsome face, and in
their place a look of curious introspection grew stronger with each
passing second.

"Eyes forward, young lady!" the Coach barked when the girl tried to
look back, drawn toward the source of the unusual and undeniable
sensations radiating from her core, and impeding structured thought.
Slowly her eyes glazed and turned inward, and seconds later, her teeth
began to chatter.

At the other end of the comely Miss Jensen, Matthew twisted the
exposed end of her anal appliance slowly, first one way and then the
other.  To the casual observer he looked much like a safe cracker
trying to gain access to a locked vault.  

Matthew, like most men in the employ of the Center had created a
science, around the CAP Device, its application and remarkable
effectiveness.  Matthew knew as much or more than most about the finer
points of its use, but there were a few mysteries remaining about the
incredible instrument that no one fully understood.  One such enigma
was the "twisting effect".  

Rotating a CAP imbedded in a young lady's rectum seems to open a
direct path to the more sophisticated areas of her brain responsible
for higher functions such as reasoning and problem solving.  The true
nature of the impetus can only be guessed at, but the effect is very
well documented.  The best analogy that anyone has come up with to
date is this.  "It's like pouring honey on the mother board of a
computer."  Complex thought becomes totally bogged down, and by
attenuating all that unnecessary mental "chatter" in a girl's head, it
becomes much easier to get one's message across.  In short, the
"twisting effect" causes a young lady to become highly impressionable
and susceptible to suggestion. 

A tremor passed through the Jensen girl's body.  Matthew felt it from
the head of his deeply imbedded cock to its root.  He and the Coach
exchanged a knowing glance as Matthew twisted the instrument
counter-clockwise, like the tuning control knob of a radio
transmitter.

Taking the stubborn teenager by the chin, the Coach turned her pretty
face toward his and gazed into her glassy eyes.  "Tell your partner
that you are ready to begin, please, Miss Jensen," he said flatly.  

A flicker of concern caused her to furrow her forehead momentarily,
but it quickly evaporated.  She hesitated for a few seconds longer
while she processed the request, and then nodded.  "I..I'm r..ready,"
Keri Jensen said in a voice barely above a whisper.  It wasn't exactly
a heart felt response, but it represented capitulation, nonetheless,
and it would do for now.  

Matthew squared his shoulders and pushed forward firmly and evenly
with his hips.  At the same time the Handler gripped the young woman
just below her hip bones, and pulling back on the fronts of her
thighs, he drew Keri fully onto himself.  

Like most of the men who wore the white coveralls of a TYTC Handler,
Matthew was a reasonably well endowed young man.  Immediately after
responding to the Coach's page Matt had taken a moment to familiarize
himself with the Jensen girl's file.  It was the only responsible
thing to do.  Noting her personal measurements, Matt concluded that
due to his girth he would only slightly exceed her vaginal passage
volume.  However, based upon her low scores for Muscle Memory and
Internal Grip Strength, the Handler decided that worst case scenario,
he would stretch the girl a little.  Not a big deal, for an increase
in passage volume can be compensated for later on by working on her
M&M's.

"Can you feel the head of my cock inside of you, Miss Jensen?" Matthew
asked her without compunction.  As he spoke, he flexed his muscles,
shifting himself within the confines of the girl's vagina.

"Unggh... Uh... hhhuh!" she responded, although it was more of a
grunt.

"Squeeze me, please, Miss Jensen," the Handler requested, holding back
on her hips so as to remain seated within her.

"Again, please," Matthew instructed when he felt her first reluctant
embrace.  "Harder, Miss Jensen," the young man demanded.

"Ohhh... ungghh!" Keri groaned as she bore down harder.

"Silence, Miss Jensen," the Coach cautioned.

"Good...good.  That's much better," Matthew complimented his younger
partner.  "You may relax for a minute, Miss Jensen."  While he waited
for the girl to regroup, the Handler placed a hand on each of Keri's
buttocks and pulled the firm fleshy orbs apart, spreading the girl
open wide and exposing the brown puckered donut of her rectal opening
where it hugged the neck of her CAP.  Just below the small black disk,
the root of his thick cock protruded from between her labia majora.
Tipping his head to the side for a better view Matthew noted her
diminutive inner lips were stretched tightly around the girth of his
shaft.  Everything down there looked uniformly moist indicating that
she was self-lubricating adequately, and before allowing her buttocks
to close, the Handler took the liberty of tracing playfully around
both of her openings with the tip of one finger.

Keri knew very well that she'd been opened and felt the cool room air
against her damp inner flesh.  It was tremendously demeaning to be
inspected and toyed with in such a cavalier manner, but, of course,
there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

"Alright," her partner said.  "Let's begin again.  I am going to pull
out of you, Miss Jensen, and as I do, I want you to squeeze me as hard
as you can.  Pretend that you are trying to keep me inside and prevent
me from leaving.  Do you understand?"

"Uh huh," Keri answered breathlessly.  

"Very well.  Then when you feel me cycle my hips and begin to push
back into you, I want you to relax your muscles and allow me to enter
you completely.  Is that clear?"

Keri nodded, but didn't speak.  She was feeling rather miffed again.
How had she ever ended up in this crazy place?

"Alright, Miss Jensen.  Here we go," Matthew informed her then after a
couple of seconds he began to pull back slowly with his hips while
holding the girl's rear end in place with his hands.  "You're not
squeezing, Miss Jensen," the young Handler admonished her as inch
after inch of his manhood retreated from her birth canal.  Inside the
resilient convoluted walls of her vagina closed down behind.

"I ammmm," Keri whined angrily.

"Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach corrected her.

"OK, relax your muscles now, please," Matthew instructed her as he
began his return trip.  The Handler drew Keri smoothly back onto
himself with little to no effort and then immediately ordered her to
bear down on him again.  This time she did as she was told, and was
complimented for having done so.  "Very good, Miss Jensen.  Let's keep
going now," the young man suggested as he arrived in her depths once
again and began his egress right away.

Keri almost missed her cue, but managed to squeeze with her muscles at
the last minute.  She began to understand that this sort of thing took
practice.

Matthew fucked the pretty teenager with slow, deliberate strokes for
the next twenty minutes or so, giving her ample opportunity to work on
her timing.  Then abruptly, he stopped.  Keri forgot herself and
glanced back over her shoulder at her partner, wondering what was
going on.  

"You're doing quite well, Miss Jensen," Matthew complimented her in a
casual tone, noting that the girl's cheeks, neck and shoulders were
beginning to glow.  "Now I want you to take over for awhile," he told
her.

"What?" Keri gasped, giving the Handler an astonished look.

"It's quite simple, Miss Jensen," the young man stated.  "I am going
to hold my hips stationary, and I want you to move yourself on me," he
explained to the astonished young woman.  "I want you to fuck yourself
on my cock, Miss Jensen."

The Handler's request was such an unthinkable affront to her dignity
that Keri was left stunned and speechless.  Her facial expression,
however spoke volumes to her professional partners.  Her astonishment
and incredulity were unmistakable which was to be expected considering
the once  head strong teenager was being instructed to take an active
roll in the exercise.  It was a big step for Keri, and could even be
viewed as a turning point in her program should she decide to
cooperate.  

The pace of the engagement would naturally be closely monitored and
directed by her two partners along with the overall duration of the
exercise.  For there was always the risk that  because of her
Thelazine enhanced reproductive system, she might suddenly spin out of
control and experience spontaneous arousal.  One of the hard and fast
rules for sexual engagement that is practiced by everyone in the
employ of the Center states that at no time should a Guest's level of
arousal be left to her discretion.  It must always be her partner or
partners who control her fervor, and as expected there are number of
tools available to the TYTC Handler for this purpose, including
variable stroke cycles and frequency and others, but it is of prime
importance that the Guest's level of arousal always be governed by her
Handler.

"You may proceed, Miss Jensen," Matthew instructed the girl as though
his request was nothing at all out of the ordinary.  His right hand
rested lightly on her back just over the tip of her spine within easy
reach of her CAP Device. 

"You may begin, Miss Jensen," the Coach echoed the Matthew's words
from his position near Keri's right shoulder, reinforcing the
Handler's instructions.  "Remember, grip on egress, relax on ingress,"
the Coach reminded her.  Keri glared at him, but wisely said nothing.
If there had ever been a more demeaning episode in her life, she could
not remember it.  "Lean forward, Miss Jensen," the Coach intoned.
"Slide yourself off your lover's cock.  Do it now, please."

Keri felt the icy fingers of defeat begin to claw at the very roots of
her psyche.  If there had been any way humanly possible to defy the
two despicable monsters in white she most certainly would have done
it, and that at least was some consolation to Keri as she dropped her
head and rocked slowly forward on her hands and knees.  Inside of her
birth canal her assailant's considerable bulk gradually withdrew.

"Squeeze me, please, Miss Jensen," Matthew ordered.  "You're not
paying attention."

"Up yours, you bastard!" the angry young blond hissed as quietly as
she could through clenched teeth.

"To the contrary, Miss Jensen," Matthew murmured, detecting her verbal
transgression.  Then with one hand on her back and the fingers of his
other hand hooked around her thigh beneath her left hip bone, the big
Handler drew the irate teenager slowly back onto himself again.  "Up
yours," he responded with a wicked chuckle.  

Keri shuddered visibly and her breath heaved from her lungs, in
response to the man's latest all-consuming foray into the core of her
femininity.  Any thoughts she might have had to impede his progress
came much too late, and Keri's lower lip trembled as she sensed her
anatomy being rearranged internally in order to accept his mass.

"Head up, Miss Jensen," the Coach barked.  "Arch your back, shoulders
forward, please, and get that little ass of yours up in the air!" the
older man uttered a string of reprehensible commands. 

"Pay attention, Miss Jensen," her partner commanded from behind when
Keri chose to glare at the Coach contemptibly.

"Whack!"  Keri heard the sound of the blow it seemed before she felt
its effects.

"Forward now, and squeeze," Matthew instructed unemotionally, glancing
downward and smiling at the glowing red hand print on the stubborn
young woman's milky white buttock.

"Nnnnuuungghh!" Keri groaned and shuddered as she leaned forward and
her vaginal passage was once again evacuated.

"Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach ordered just inches from her right
ear.  "Guests shall remain silent while being attended to," he quoted
one of the diabolical rules of the House of Horrors.

"Concentrate, Miss Jensen!" Keri's partner commanded brusquely.

"Whack!" the mirrored alcove resounded with the sharp report of palm
upon buttock.

"Mmeee," Keri snorted, with her lips pressed tightly together and
tears springing to her eyes.  Her right buttock was on fire.

"Silence, Miss Jensen!" Matthew ordered as he pulled the bewildered
blond onto himself once more.  "Open yourself, young lady.  Take me
inside, Miss Jensen.  Take me deeply inside," the Handler instructed
Keri as the head of his sizeable manhood thrust aside her convoluted
vaginal walls until he occupied her entirely once again.

"Head up, Miss Jensen!" the Coach reminded her.

"Squeeze harder, Miss Jensen," her lover instructed.

"Shoulders forward!  Arch your back, please, Miss Jensen," the Coach
chimed in.

"Whack!"

For nearly an hour the Coach and Matthew worked with Keri, and despite
the profound loathing she felt for the two professional men and the
organization with which they were affiliated, after perhaps twenty
minutes the headstrong teenager began to participate in earnest,
rocking backward and forward, steadily fucking herself on her
Handler's proffered penis, seemingly with little need for additional
encouragement.  

Unbeknownst to the handsome blond, however, in the background the
miracle compound, Thelazine, wove its subtle web around her psyche,
enhancing each and every fibre and nerve ending of her female
reproductive anatomy, and clearing the neural pathways such that those
sizzling signals generated within Keri's core female would arrive at
the pleasure centers of her brain, unimpeded.  Conversely, ideas of
opposition or retribution were effectively shunted onto "mental side
streets" where along with more complex emotions such as anger and
indignity, they quickly lost potency and priority.  

Matthew and the Coach played the young woman between the two of them,
expertly managing the degree of her arousal, and keeping Keri on the
very brink of climax for nearly fifteen minutes without granting her
release.

"Not yet, Miss Jensen," Matthew had chuckled when on two occasions she
actually thrust herself quite forcefully against his thighs and then
ground herself on his cock, seeking fulfillment.  "That you will have
to earn, young lady," he'd chastised.  

A gentle rap on the exposed butt end of her CAP Device was all that
was needed to redirect Keri's thoughts and effectively derail her
impending orgasm.  Two times the handsome teenager rose so very close
to apogee, and twice she was frustrated.  The second time, during that
brief moment of relative lucidity, following her return to Earth,
Matthew inseminated Keri.  Both men noted the unmistakable
introversion of expression on the girl's face, as well as the soft
groan of dismay that escaped her lips as Keri felt the heat of the
man's seed bloom within her abdomen like fluid fire.  

Before her abduction and imprisonment, Keri had never allowed any male
to do that to her.  It was simply too disgusting, not to mention the
more obvious risk it bore.  But now she'd lost count of the number of
men and the number of times she'd been sullied by their vile
offerings.  Keri naturally feared that sooner or later she would
become impregnated by one or more of the monsters in white, and the
thought of that inevitability filled her with both fearfulness and
revulsion, affecting her on a level that only another female could
understand.  

What Keri didn't know was that all of the Guests were given a
specialized systemic contraceptive upon their arrival at the Center,
followed by regular boosters throughout their time in residence.  For
many years, the program has had a one hundred percent success rate,
and so far not a single young lady has become pregnant
unintentionally.  Considering the high degree of sexual activity the
Guests enjoy, that in itself is remarkable, but what's even more
outstanding are the beneficial psychological effects derived from the
program.  By allowing the Guests to believe that they would more than
likely become pregnant at the hands of their Handlers or other
partners, and that there was very little they could do about it, a
significant blow to the girls' sense of self-determination was
achieved.  

Occasionally one or two young ladies would be given the nullifying
agent or antidote to the specialized contraceptive, rendering them
fertile almost immediately.  The subjects would then be intentionally
seeded and allowed to carry until they showed, effectively reinforcing
the other Guests' overall belief that non-consensual impregnation was
quite likely for each of them in the not too distant future.

"Silence, Miss Jensen!" the Coach admonished the girl, observing her
while she accepted her lover's offering.  Her mouth was partially
open, revealing a hint of sparkling white teeth, and her lower lip
quivered slightly.  "Look at me, Miss Jensen," the Coach cautioned
when she attempted to lower her gaze.  A noticeable shiver passed
through the unhappy teenager as she reluctantly raised her eyes to
his.

While the despicable older man looked on unsympathetically, Keri
experienced what can best be described as soul sickness.  She felt
utterly despoiled.  On her hands and knees there in the horrible
gymnasium Keri sensed the horrible man's filthy cock twitch within her
like a living thing, injecting the last of its loathsome product deep,
deep inside.  No amount of washing would ever make her feel clean,
even if she were allowed to bathe, which wasn't likely for several
hours.  No, the vile offering she'd just received would remain inside
of her for quite some time.  They would see to that.  In fact, while
Keri struggled to maintain eye contact with the older villain, which
in itself was utterly dehumanizing for he seemed to sense her every
thought, she felt her assailant tighten his grip on the fronts of her
thighs, before drawing Keri farther onto his foul cock, crushing her
firm buttocks tightly against his hairy thighs in the process.  

Keri's reproductive anatomy went right to work.  Had she known just
exactly what was happening inside of her, she probably would have been
even more upset, for at that very moment Keri's vagina was in the
process of contracting again and again, instinctively and effectively
"milking" the last of the viscus fluid from her lover's penis as he
gradually softened within her.  

Matthew, like all of the Handlers at TYTC was rather well endowed, and
even in its semi-flaccid state, his heavy cock occupied Keri almost
entirely.  Its head, still engorged with blood, lay in the area of the
fornix and continued to give up small amounts of ejaculate to the
girl's hungry vagina, the fluffy, convoluted walls of which were by
now uniformly coated with a soupy mixture of semen and vaginal mucous.

Keri managed to contain the majority of Matthew's offering, however a
certain amount  found its way through the seal formed by her labia
minora surrounding the root of the man's cock and drooled down the
insides of both of Keri's thighs.  Most of this leakage had occurred
almost immediately following Matthew's initial bursts, for although
Keri had been with a few men prior to coming to the Center, she'd
never before experienced anything even remotely akin to the volcanism
which had taken place in her belly a few minutes earlier.  She'd felt
him swell within her, and knew that he was about to cum, but when that
first pulse had lashed out at the very rear of her femininity, it had
taken Keri by surprise nonetheless.

The raw power of the burst was so great that it had seemed more solid
than liquid.  Feeling a lot like someone had "flicked" or "thumped"
her quite forcefully directly on the cervix with his finger, Keri
hadn't recognized it for what it was at first.  In fact, the Coach
realized what had happened to the young blond even before she had, for
her facial expressions of surprise and shock were unmistakable.  The
Coach smiled knowingly at the puzzled teenager for several seconds
until at last understanding dawned.  

With his second pulse came the pressure, for as the startled teen was
about to discover, Matthew was known, among other things, for his
ability to produce prodigious quantities of semen within his tennis
ball sized testicles.  Again Keri's eyes grew wide and again she felt
like someone had just poked her deep inside with a hot finger.  

"Uugghh!" she grunted unexpectedly as her lover's second salvo was
literally pumped into her, pressurizing Keri's abdomen briefly and
causing her tummy to bulge outward beneath her, until with a very
audible "spooching" sound, a portion of Matthew's latest contribution
was exhausted from Keri when her capacity was suddenly exceeded.  She
hated it when she made noises down there.  It was very humiliating. 

"Silence, Miss Jensen," she was warned.

Matthew's third and fourth bursts followed one another in rapid
succession, causing a few more of those unpleasant sounds to erupt
from between her thighs, and filling Keri to the brim.
Simultaneously a creamy, blaze spread outward from her abdomen as
though a star had gone super-nova inside of her, until Keri imagined
she could feel the man's heat behind her eyes.  Never had she
experienced a more pervasive sensation in her life.  It was quite
disconcerting.  

Matthew had ceased his thrust cycles the instant he began to cum,
preferring instead to hold the attractive teenager back against the
fronts of his thighs and fully onto himself.  At one point during her
filling Keri had attempted to pull away from her partner in an effort
to relieve the growing pressure in her belly, but Matthew held her
fast, keeping himself lodged inside of the girl as deeply as possible
until he was finished.   Even now as his climax slowly waned, Matthew
made it his business to occupy every cubic inch of volume that Keri
had to offer, making certain that she was fully involved while her
vaginal muscles instinctively went about their duties.

Keri shuddered visibly when after another ten minutes her partner
decided to make his exit, and to her never ending humiliation his
egress was accompanied by an obscenely loud "splop".  Keri shifted her
hips, adjusting to the sudden loss of mass, and as she did, she could
feel the big man's ejaculate oozing between her labia majora.  She
felt thoroughly filthy and defiled. 

"I agree, Coach, that Miss Jensen needs work," Matthew said in a
conversational tone of voice as he went about zipping himself back
into his coveralls.  "But I believe she has promise," the Handler went
on, placing his right hand casually onto Keri's rump.  

Glancing downward, Matthew noted that the young lady's labia majora
had all but closed together again, following his exit.  She was
definitely a mess back there.  The visible golden curls of her pubic
coat were dark and matted, and the insides of her thighs all the way
down to her knees were uniformly coated with a mixture of "his & hers"
bodily fluids.  Then while he watched, a bubble formed and began to
grow in the milky residue in the vicinity of her vaginal portal.
Matthew had been with a lot of young ladies in his time, but this was
the first time he'd ever witnessed a vaginal bubble. 

"Amazing," the Handler thought to himself.  Then to the Coach he said,
"I think a good part of her problem is plain old fashion laziness.  I
have no doubt that some structured exercise and activities here in the
Gym will do wonders for her, but I think I'm also going to track
Anthony down and suggest that Miss Jensen be scheduled for some
additional "quality personal time".  I believe with a little work, our
little lady could become quite popular."  Matthew patted Keri on the
bottom almost affectionately.  "I'd be more than happy to take Miss
Jensen for a spin at any time," the younger man offered graciously.

Keri was still quite dazed from her recent amorous activity.  So much
so that even the fact that the two depraved men were discussing her as
if she were some lower form of life, failed to get a rise out of Keri.
A brooding calm had suddenly come over the once haughty teenager as
she knelt there on all fours, naked and unclean.  If the truth be
known, a part of Keri had capitulated, giving in to what she perceived
as the hideous program of rape and abuse that her daily life had
become.  On the outside, the handsome blond teenager appeared leaden
lethargic, but on the inside, Keri's body was actually quite busy.

Following intercourse, the contraction of the vagina causes the cervix
to rest inside the fornix, which in its relaxed state is bowl-shaped
and perfect for the pooling of semen.  Keri had just such a pool
inside of her following nearly a full hour of love making, culminating
in Matthew's sizeable contribution.  Presently the tightly constricted
opening in Keri's cervix, the toroidal shaped doorway to her womb, lay
completely immersed in a puddle of white, viscous semen teeming with
healthy human spermatozoa.  Head down and dejected, while the monster
named Matthew who had just finished with her, went on about her
potential sexual popularity with the rest of the band of perverts in
the House of Horrors, Keri Marie Jensen became a mother.

"Thank you for your assistance, Matthew," the Coach said warmly.  "As
always, I appreciate your insight and suggestions," he added.

"You're quite welcome, Coach," the younger man responded politely as
he got to his feet, pushing himself up using Keri's hips for leverage.
"I'll leave you to your work for now, but I'll definitely be back
following the mid-day feeding.  Your mention of an alternating
multi-passage program using the "Silent Partners" is very intriguing.
I'd like to begin Miss Kournikova on a less labor intensive program
for a week or two, and that sounds like just the ticket," Matthew
commented.  "As you can imagine, she receives more than enough human
contact.  There's rarely a blank spot on my little tennis star's
Partnering Planner," he said with a wink.  Both men smiled.  "Well.. I
gotta run," Matthew said after a moment's pause.  "Give me a call if
you need any further assistance with Miss Jensen."  Then without
further ado, the younger Handler turned and walked away, whistling a
little tune,  "I'm forever blowing bubbles"

After Matthew made his exit the Coach leaned down and placed a hand on
the listless teenager's shoulder.  "On your feet, Miss Jensen," he
ordered.  "And stand on pair number two, please," the Coach
instructed, pointing in the direction of the footprints painted on the
floor matting.  

Keri tried not to think about what would happen next.  Her hazel eyes
which not long ago had simmered with malevolence toward the Coach and
all he represented, were now dull and rather lackluster.  As Keri
obediently covered the painted footprints marked "2" with her own
feet, spreading her legs to a little past shoulder width, the Coach
stepped in front of her.

"Look at me, Miss Jensen," the powerful little man spoke in a
commanding voice.  

Reluctantly Keri raised her eyes to his.  Then as she was forced to
stare into the eyes of the brutal little man, a deeply buried spark of
resolve caused her to make an effort to recover her composure.  She
flared her nostrils and took a deep breath which actually made her
feel a little better about life in general.  But even as Keri raised
her chin slightly in order to appear more confident in the eyes of her
adversary, a large, drooling dollop of what was obviously a portion of
the foul spawn left inside of her by her most recent non-consensual
partner, drained from Keri's vagina and dropped to the rubber floor
mat with an audible "splat".  

Both she and the Coach glanced downward together, and both she and the
Coach observed the long and viscous mucous thread which stretched from
Keri's labia minora down to the loathsome pool of goo on the mat
between her feet.  What tiny amount of confidence Keri thought she'd
mustered was instantly shattered by the sight of that sticky mess.
The once proud teenager was absolutely mortified, and felt the blood
rush to her face in response to her embarrassment as she struggled to
choose between the lesser of two evils.  She didn't think she could
make herself look at the filth between her feet again, so ever so
slowly, Keri Jensen raised her eyes upward.  As expected the Coach was
waiting for her, meeting her gaze with a shrewd smile.  

Keri's face flushed red and hot at first, but soon a cold feeling of
helplessness settled over her.  For both she and the Coach knew that
the slimy mess on the floor represented yet another battle lost; yet
another glaring example that Keri was no longer in control of her own
life and her own sexuality.  For the very first time since joining the
TYTC family, Keri Jensen wondered if perhaps she really did exist for
the sole purpose of providing sexual recreation to any male who
desired it.

End..  SM

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