A satire of sex, politics and religion. And ice cream.
Part One
Preamble
Unlike other internet porn stories, this one isn't true to life and is a rare example of male fantasy. It's vaguely set in the US around about now (which varies according to when you read this, but actually yes indeed it is exactly about now).
Part one is the back story, and was originally meant to be the opening summary paragraph, but I got sidetracked by all the word-porn. The first part is a side-swipe at waitress and male scientist stories and is necessarily constrained, but the real release happens in part two where it gets wilder and wilder as I become more and more confident I can actually get away with it. The second part is much looser and more deviant, and I hope you find it deeply offensive whilst laughing at the same time. It develops themes of sexual slavery, eggnog, custard and (eventually!) sinister mayonnaise-based mind control in part three.
The latter two parts are set in the post-now future (whenever that happens to be!) but is always a little bit after when you read this bit. Between the sexy fetish stuff, there's humour, non-consensual forced-philosophy and shockingly, the anorexic-bones of a plot! I know, right?
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Prologue -- The Expositionary Position
In which our protagonists reach a well-dodgy accord.
Eve was a successful staff writer for 'Wotcha!', a well-respected women's tell-all magazine, but secretly dreamed of becoming a waitress. She'd managed to get a trial run working weekends at a busy Miss O'Jeannie's Medieval theme bar, which was a tight 40 mile round trip from the city. Despite being offered a minimum wage for an indefinite trial period, she'd hard-negotiated for tips-only. She was all-in on her dream, and if she was going to work as a serving wench, she'd damned-well be as authentic about it as she could.
Those first few idyllic months soon stretched into long, memorable years. She'd got to know all the regular Johns and had blown most of them in the stables to make a few extra bucks here and there. There was this one guy though who'd really creeped her out. Well actually that was all of the male clientèle, but this one in particular...
...His eyes locked and loaded on Eve's platform breasts as she leaned across the wobbly Formica oak-effect table. In a poorly contrived alcove to his left, several musicians tuned up their instruments. The rest of the neon-lit bar was bedecked with plastic period weapons and armour. In one corner, he even spied a light sabre replete with fancy mask.
"What haveth you, Sire?"
He realised he'd feasted his eyes for too long, and sheepishly flickered up to her face.
"I'll have the rib and a beer please," he said.
Her face narrowed as she thrust her chest forwards more forcefully. She felt her self-confidence draining at his lack of overt objectification. Why did he look away and not call her 'wench' like the others? She was in her late twenties, blonde and steaming. Or had she been living a lie all along? Momentarily, his gaze returned to mother, but with a Herculean effort he again lifted back to her face. She felt ugly and worthless, and completely at his mercy.
"What... What do you want from me?" she spluttered, looking for the usual signs of eye dilation and lip drool, but spying none.
"Err... The rib and... a Bud?"
She knew he could take her across the table at any moment but instead seemed content to tease and toy. His power and cruelty was unbearable.
"Use me," she found the words spilling from her mouth. She was in shock; normally she started with an opening figure.
He fell silent and looked perplexed. "Well I don't know how you knew, but I was eventually going to ask if I could run some illegal experiments on you, unpaid of course, I mean I can't afford that with all the material costs. Plus it's tricky to conceal it in the books, and then all of that insurance and legal stuff, but I digress. You look like just the 'type' I require. I'll even explain what I'm researching in simple terms you'd understand, if you like?"
Her legs nearly buckled.
She splayed her hands across the table as a desperate attempt to prop herself up. The table tilted and her face reddened. He'd can-opened her with confused objectification only to deliver an exploitation sucker punch. She was completely defenceless against this level of male mastery.
"When can you start?" She whispered, transfixed within his aura of power.
He blinked in disbelief. "Thank you! Usually I end up having a chat with the police. Well, we can start as soon as your shift finishes. The first session is mostly about measuring and, um, probing to get a baseline. After that we'll begin with the main chemical adjustments and, um, probing for qualitative changes."
"Yes," she said weakly.
"Right then. I guess I'd better introduce myself now that I'm going to... get to know you a lot better," he said with a slight cough. "My name is Doctor Adam Eve, but you can call me Doctor Adam."
"No shit?" she responded with a bit more fire, "My name is Eve Adams!"
"Astonishing," he began, "What are the odds? Fate is full of unexpected twists!"
"Or just badly written by the typing gods, perhaps? Yet somehow I think our story has just begun," she finished smugly, harnessing her day job skills. She thought: so being a writer after all these years has finally paid off!
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Chapter One -- The Snake in Eve's Garden
In which Eve learns to trust the process, and Adam gets his rocks off in the name of medical science, a mystery school founded by men, so it's like totally okay not to question shit like that.
Eve entered what seemed like a dark portal cut into the night's icy gloom. She'd been a bit concerned at first, having watched those horror films where a solitary female enters a lone mansion in the middle of a foreboding forest with a cranky scientist who couldn't even protect her from split-ends.
And yet this was different,
because she was so deeply enthralled to Dr Adam's controlling and yet casual detachment that she felt nothing could possibly go wrong.
"Hang on, I'll need to kick in the back up generator, we seem to have lost power again," he said as he wondered off into the darkness.
Eve stood alone, shivering and defenceless in the night, without even an exposed candle and obligatory box of wet matches. The house creaked and groaned and there was a persistent smell she couldn't quite define. She could have sworn she'd heard a piano playing and some weird violin shit coming from the walls. A little concerned, she pulled out her mobile to put it on torch mode, but the low battery icon was flashing and then the phone just powered down entirely. She stamped her foot in frustration; all she wanted was to be probed and to go home, and then masturbate thinking about all the hot, sweaty older men she'd served earlier. Was that too much to demand on the cusp of a Sunday morning?
Suddenly the lights flickered on and her fears vanished. She found herself in the main entranceway of an old wooden period house. It seemed rather utilitarian and the paint was long overdue for a refresh. Footsteps approached and Dr Adam appeared at the far end of the long corridor, having since put on his white lab coat, and looking every bit the wild-haired mad scientist. "Sorry my bad, I hadn't topped up the meter. Just as well, the emergency generator is a ten minute hike behind...
the lake,
