Alternate Incarceration

This is more of a SciFi story than an erotic story even though much of it deals with highly non-consensual sex.

A series of college girls are attacked by a rapist who uses a special drug to overwhelm them. The drug not only incapacitates them, it also fogs their memory and prevents them from identifying him... until the great-great-great-great-great-grandson of the legendary W creates a suit that records people's thoughts and dreams, including things they don't consciously remember.

Like many of my stories, this takes place in an alternate society. In this case that alternate reality is in the distant future. I often like to envision what the world might be like long after I have become the dust of history, so the emphasis of this story is the workings of a possible future world.

But this post deals with very non-consensual sex. The descriptions are not overly graphic, but if highly non-consensual sex is not your thing, you might want to skip this story.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2016 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Mardina messaged me just before shadow off and said she had to speak with me immediately. The Scott Shield has just begun to turn transparent in our quadrant, so the light streaming in through the windows was very subdued. It was still more than sufficient for me to pad my way barefoot into the fooprep to grab a cup of coffee from the fooport.

I've been out in the crop lands where the shields open much earlier-- depending on the crop cycle. With the sun still low in the sky there, shadow off is much different. The shields also open fully later in the day so that sun is much brighter even during replanting time. The gmon crops grow very well in the intense sun, but the few humans who still live there have to either remain underground during suntime or venture out into the full sun only if they are encased in UV survival suits.

I often wish that our ancestors hadn't screwed up the earth so badly that our survival depended upon creating an entirely artificial environment. It would be nice to be able to look out over the city and actually watch the sun rise over the horizon rather than have a shield high above our atmosphere slowly open to allow the calculated amount of sunlight for the day to filter down to the ground. I've been off-planet and experienced natural sunrises. Believe me, it is nothing like the 4D experiences available at the vid houses.

Earth sunrises weren't always artificial. I have journals and stories from my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, W, where he writes about sunrise on the beach or in the mountains. I found these stories many years ago when my grandfather gave me some antique data sticks which he said had been given to him by his grandfather and to him by his grandfather.

I had gone to visit my grandfather in the comfort home. He had asked to see me, so I tubed up to Canus North to visit him. He asked his careper to leave us alone and then told me to bring him the small book which was on display on a shelf near his bed. (For those of you who have never seen one, a "book" is a series of paper pages with writing on them. At one time they were the only way to distribute stories and other written things.)

In any case, Geep-- as I always called my grandfather-- held the book in his hands and bent the hard first and last pages back so that the thick cover over the front of the book gaped open. He then shook it slightly and two data sticks fell out onto the thin blanket that covered his legs.

"I think W intended these for you," he said softly. He then opened the book and turned to the last page where he showed me a handwritten note. The note was in an ancient form of writing called cursive. Very few people today are able to read it, but Geep had insisted that I learn it.

"This note is from W," he said and then he began to read, ""Within this book is a great treasure. It is my journals, stories, and complete designs to the various devices I have manufactured. When the right man... or woman... arises, give this book to them and show them how to access the treasure."

He then bent the book backwards again and slipped the two data sticks back into its cover. Evidently they sat in some sort of depression, because when he closed the book, the cover remained smooth.

As he held the book out to me I asked, "Why are you giving this to me?"

Geep laughed and said, "You are named after him, you know."

My first name begins with a W, but since I never knew the legendary W's full name I didn't realize we had the same name.

"There must be more than that," I said, taking the book from his hand.

He smiled at me and said, "Nurse Julan showed me one of your pleasure devices." He glanced at the closed door rather furtively to make sure that we would not be overheard. "A rich boyfriend bought it for her. She smuggled it in just to show it to me because she knew that you were my grandson."

He gave me a very big smile and added, "She was afraid that I would be offended, but she thought I should know that you were successful even though no one in the family knows what it is that you do."

I gave a short laugh and smiled back at him, "Geep," I said, "very few people know what it is that I actually do, but yes, I am starting to be successful... and someday will hopefully also be very rich."

"What you do," he said carefully, "is what W did." Pointing to the book he continued, "That's why I know that these are definitely for you."

Shortly after Geep's funeral, I officially changed my name to W, and the name of my business to W5G. If anyone asks, I tell them that it means that I am the great-great-great-great-great grandson of W, himself. I keep scans of the records which prove that just in case anyone tells me to prove it.

A lot of things have changed over the decades, but human sexual behaviors haven't-- well not very much. I updated many of W's original designs to account for our current technology, and I added many new designs of my own. I am now very successful and more wealthy than I had ever dreamed of being.

Mardina belonged to a customer of mine before she became one of my companions. It took her almost a year to trust me enough to tell me what it was that had destroyed her life. She had been well on her way to becoming a space architect with dreams of building new cities in high orbit beyond the moon, but something happened. She spiraled into drugs and worse, finally ending up selling herself as a pleasure slave to pay off her many debts.

When she came to me, she was seeking a machine that would give her pleasure, but more importantly would somehow prevent the nightmares that plagued her sleep. I didn't have such a device. I had many that could give her pleasure, but there was nothing I had-- or knew of-- that could prevent nightmares. I suggested a device which would give her pleasure before going to sleep and a different device-- actually made by a competitor-- to keep her in deep sleep until the dreams were totally over. That way she wouldn't remember the bad dreams.

Her owner, who had accompanied her to my place, was willing to pay almost any price to heal his pleasure slave. "When she is good," he said with a wry smile, "she is very, very good." His face changed as he added, "But when she has these dreams, she is terrible."

My device did give her pleasure. And the other device did keep her in deep sleep. But even when she didn't remember her dreams, she awoke drenched in her own sweat, her body feeling like she had tumbled to earth in a failed cargo pod reentry. Her owner was not pleased and demanded his money back. In response, I offered to buy her contract at the full price he paid for her.

He instantly agreed. In fact, he left her at my apartment that day and returned to his estate. As soon as I transferred the monunits, her contract was transferred to my account. When Mardina knelt to submit herself to me, however, I lifted her back up and said, "No, I did not buy YOU. I bought your contract. I bought it so that I could free you."

As she stared at me in total shock, I continued, "You may leave now if you desire or you may stay in my guest room. As a free woman, the choice is yours."

I let her absorb what I had said before saying, "But if you are willing, I would like to test some of my devices on you, including a new device that can read your memories and shape the form of pleasure they give you based on what you desire or find pleasurable. It may even help you get over your nightmares."

Her eyes remained wide as she slowly nodded her head and said softly "I will stay forever if you can help me."

I waited a week before introducing her to some of my more exotic machines. During that week I took her shopping for clothing. As a pleasure slave she had been kept naked at all times, so she literally had nothing to wear. As we entered the first boutique, a somewhat older, impeccably-dressed sales manager blocked our entry and said haughtily, "I'm sorry, sir, but we are a respectable establishment. Pleasure slaves are not allowed within our store."

Mardina literally shook with fear, but I stared back into the matron's eyes and said in the most steely voice I could muster, "Scan her!"

The manager was somewhat taken aback, but grabbed her scanner from her belt and passed it over Mardina's wrist, reading the imbedded ichip.

"Oh, she's been freed," she said as the information was transferred to her internal reader. "That makes a difference."

She then turned to me and assessed my wealth and standing based on my clothing, haircut, manicure, etc. "However," she said somewhat stiffly, "You may still be in the wrong shop. I am not sure that you are able to afford our product line. We carry only very expensive, ultimate, top-of-the-line apparel."

I held up my wrist and said, "Scan me."

She looked sightly confused, but complied with my command.

As soon as her scanner crossed my wrist, I could hear an alarm sound in the store manager's office. The sales manager's eyes now went wide and her body was the one trembling in fear.

"I am so sorry, Mister W," she blubbered out. "I had no idea."

As she stammered for what to say, the store manager hurried up behind her. "Is there a problem?" she asked in that artificial I-serve-the-public voice that most store managers learn early in their career. Then in a more natural voice she said, "What brings the owner to this branch?"

"Just shopping for a recently-freed pleasure slave," I responded. Then I turned to the sales manager. "I own this and many other business," I said softly, "but I like to remain in the shadows. I prefer that people do not realize who I am nor the extent of my wealth."

I raised my arm again and said, "Please re-scan me."

The sales manager again passed her scanner over my wrist. Her hands were shaking as she did so.

"What does it say now?" I asked.

Her voice-- and her whole body-- was shaking as she stammered out, "It says you are a Mister Walter Roth. A metal worker."

Now it was the manager whose voice was shaking. "That's... that's... that's..."

"Impossible?" I completed for her. "Yes, for anyone else in the world, it would be impossible. But I am W. I have invented a thought-controlled switch that can change an ichip between several different identities."

I smiled at her. "And I have a reprogramer back at my home which can change the information in any one of those nine different identities. I am showing the level of trust I have in this establishment by revealing my true identity to you."

"I will handle this sale," the store manager said firmly, and indicated with her hands that the sales manager should go elsewhere.

"She did her job properly," I said softly. "There should be no repercussions for her actions."

"Who are you, really?" the store manager asked. Her eyes were filled with wonder, or perhaps fear.

"I am W," I replied. "And even if I weren't, I can assure you that the monunits will transfer properly at the end of the sale."

She may not have trusted my word, but she did trust my monunits. By the time we left the store, Mardina had two suitcases full of clothing, including two weeks' worth of underwear. I was carrying the suitcases while she carried the two garment bags with her long formal dresses in them.

She had chosen to wear a short, pleated miniskirt with matching top, but surprised me by stripping out of it as soon as we were back home. "I hope you don't mind," she said, "but I have gotten used to being naked and it is actually much more comfortable around the house."

"You won't get any objections from me," I replied as I set her suitcases on her bed and helped her put her clothes away.

Later that day, I introduced her to the prototype of my "mind machine." It looked like a full-body catsuit except that it totally covered the head, including the face and eyes. There was a vented area over the mouth and nose which allowed breathing, and somewhat allowed the person to speak.

Within the suit were a variety of microsensors which read the body and mind by picking up the electrical impulses in the brain and nervous system. Special software developed by one of my subsidiary companies could even display those memories-- or dreams-- on custom vidscreens.

Additional sensor-style arrays acted as electrodes which could return electrical stimuli to the nervous system so that the same memories or dreams that had been read could be re-inserted-- after certain modifications. We spent a week recording her thoughts and fantasies as the suit mildly stimulated her so that she was sexually aroused.

On the third day, when we had finished with the testing, she said, "I can't stand this anymore. Let's see if I can blow its circuits."

She then brought her hand down between her legs and began rubbing against the outside of the suit. I hadn't really designed it for that, but evidently it worked OK because she was soon thrusting her hips into the air and moans came out of the vented mouth of the headpiece. When she went into orgasm, she did blow the circuitry, or at least the screen on the monitor went white for several seconds.

Just before that blast of white, my face appeared on the monitor. I was much younger and several pounds lighter, but it was definitely me.

When I helped her peel the suit off her body, her sweat-- and the smell of arousal-- flowed out of the suit. She kept turning her head away as I helped her step out of the legs.

"You saw it, didn't you?" she asked.

"The white flash when you orgasmed?" I asked in return. "Yes, I saw it."

"No," she said, almost angrily. "Just before that. I was thinking of you as I went over the edge."

"There is no shame in that," I said. "I freed you. I am the closest male. You were horny." I gave a short laugh, "I would hate to think what fantasy images would be on the screen if that were me in the suit at that point."

"It isn't fantasy," she said softly. "I really want to you to make love to me."

We somehow didn't get back to testing the suit for another three days. Except for necessary trips to the bathroom and a couple of breaks for meals, we spent the time seeing who could wear the other out. Around noon on the third day we called it a draw and both fell sound asleep until the next morning.

Mardina slept in my bed from that day forward. It took many more days of testing to finalize the design of the mind suit. Among other things, I changed the suit itself to a microperf material so that it could breathe. That prevented the buildup of sweat and had the added benefit of allowing others in the room to smell the arousal of the person in the suit.

W's Erotic Mind Suit was an almost instant financial success. I gave Mardina co-inventor rights so she received a percentage of the profits. "That way," I explained, "you can return to school when you think the time is right and maybe one day design your city in the sky."

She looked very sad when I told her that. "Money won't erase the dreams," she said quietly.

I knew that she still had the nightmares. She would often awaken screaming in the middle of the night. I tried to hold her and comfort her, but she would push me away and pull herself into a ball in the corner of the bed trembling and crying.

One night, the dreams were so bad that I had to literally wrap her in a sheet and hold her down to keep her from throwing herself off my balcony. The next day, she came to me in my work area and said, "I want to sleep in the suit."

"What?" I responded.

"I want to sleep in the suit," she repeated. "I want you to record my nightmare. I want you to see what I see."

The next night, I set up the monitors and controllers next to our bed and helped Mardina into the suit. I lay down beside her, but I knew that I wouldn't actually be sleeping-- at least, I thought I wouldn't.

Surprisingly, I actually did fall asleep, only to be awakened by Mardina thrashing and moaning as her nightmare assailed her. I scrambled over to the monitor to be sure that it was picking up and recording the dream.

What was on the monitor shocked me. Mardina was walking on campus. It was late at night and it appeared that she was headed back to the sorority, possibly from the library. She had often talked about studying late there.

Suddenly a hand appeared in front of her face. It was a blur, but I could see that the hand was in a black leather glove and there was a rag of some sort in its palm.

The rag was pressed against the front of her face and I could hear her muffled screams in my headphones. Then everything went black.

A few moments later the screen cleared. I could see a skirt and a pair of panties lying on the ground. I could also see Mardina's hands. They appeared to be tied to the front of a park bench of some sort. As she wildly tossed her head, I could see flashes of the bench and of her naked body bound over the back of it.

She was positioned in the middle of the bench with her hands pulled tight to the front. In the wild flashes as she threw her head from side to side, I could see that her feet were tied to the feet of the bench, causing her legs to be spread out at a very wide angle. I tried to ignore her screams, but I couldn't-- and I don't think I will ever forget them.

She gave an especially loud and shrill scream and the image on the screen suddenly jerked upward, showing a dark street lamp and the leaves of some trees. The image then bounced rhythmically. It was obvious someone was raping her. As her head bounced up and down with the assault, she was also shaking it wildly from side to side while screaming, "No! No! No!"

After a few moments, it was over. Her head hung down and she stared at her hands while sobbing violently. A bright flash from the right caught her attention and she lifted her head in that direction. A young man was standing on the path with a vid device of some sort. He raised it to his face once again and it flashed as he took another still. As he lowered the device with his right hand, he reached up with his left hand and blew a kiss to Mardina before turning and running down the path.