Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS HEREIN ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. I do not condone any abuse of any kind IRL, and everything herein is just fantasy. Do not attempt to re-enact anything you read here. All BDSM activities should be Safe, Sane and Consensual. What I describe in my stories is varying degrees of abuse which make for wonderful fantasies, but would in reality be awful. To quote the wonderful Gigglinggoblin: Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story! If you feel inclined, please get in touch, I'd love to talk about my writing or any related kink stuff!
Summary: At Femdom University, Madame Octavia gives a class of college aged dominatrixes in the making a lecutre on one of famous femdom scientist Edwina Schrodinger's most famous theories: if you lock a catboy on a box and tease the shit out of him for weeks, you can't possibly know for sure if he is aroused! What a delightful dilemma.
Contains: FFFFF/m, size comparisons, 7-9ft tall amazon woman, thick bbw body, femdom, tickling, extreme bondage, edging.
DARK THEMES: Mental abuse, permanent slavery, societal level femdom, cruelty, indifference if not outright arousal at suffering.
*****
As the large jet-black box was wheeled out onto the stage by a pair of female assistants, smartly dressed, the collective hushed whispers and mutters of the lecture theatre grew in intensity. It was delicately deposited on the stage, a black monolith that towered 8 feet tall.
From the steadily rising sloping tiers of seats, more than two hundred 20-something girls of Femdom University, chatted and whispered excitedly. They had been informed they would be treated to a guest lecturer - Madame Octavia, one of the leading Femdom Scientists and Philosophers in the country.
The hubbub grew to a fever pitch as, without a word, a raven-haired woman who many recognized as Octavia herself, stepped onto the stage and began to write upon the blackboard.
'EDWINA SCHRODINGER'S CATBOY'
When the chalk hit the shelf with a quiet tap and she turned back, the room stilled in almost an instant. The girls were silent, in rapt attention.
She stood prim and professionally, with an aura that radiated authority. A tightly cut white sweater travelled down to her hips, where it terminated at just the line where it might have been considered scandalous, yet as such it merely looked elegant. Professional, yet alluring. Precisely the aesthetic Femdom society prided itself upon, and to which every domme in the making in the audience should aspire to. Her figure almost defied the air it swam through, tall yet broad, thickly built and with a form that spoke to years of superlative effort. Toned yet supple.
The fact she stood next to such a massive box, yet did not seem small by comparison, emphasized her presence all the more. She knew she had the utmost respect and attention just from her reputation alone, and secretly revelled in it.
"Good afternoon, ladies. I am Madame Octavia."
You could have heard a pin drop after her pronouncement... and indeed, once the room had quietened down, something just about as quiet as that could be heard. A sort of distant whine, as if someone had let go of a balloon two floors up.
"Today, I will be talking to you about one of the finest feminine minds in Femdom science - Edwina Schrodinger."
Madame Octavia withdrew a pointer from her pocket, extended it, and gestured to the black box which sat upright beside her, towering over the stage and even her.
"To many, her most popular theory -- at least on a colloquial level -- is understood thus: there is a catboy in a box, and yet one cannot say with certainty if he is aroused unless one were to check."
Of course, at this, the collective girls tittered.
"Indeed, as long as the catboy is in the box, he is both in a position of extreme sexual arousal and distress," she mused, walking past the box and gesturing to it with her pointer, "yet paradoxically, is in one of total sexual satisfaction, simultaneously."
Again, more giggles.
"So, is there any way to resolve this conundrum?"
For a moment, Madame Octavia merely smiled, waiting for any volunteers.
One girl, a redhead near the front, raised her hand.
"Well, as you say, we can check, right?"
"Yes, we can," Madame Octavia "however in doing so, the quantum state would collapse the moment the box was opened. The catboy's state would be not only discovered, but in fact, made certain BY THE ACT OF opening the box."
She slapped her pointer against the box just loudly enough for it to echo throughout the room. In the silence that followed, everyone could hear a higher pitched whine now emanating from the box's general direction. The nervous laughter that followed drowned it out swiftly, however, and everyone was thoroughly amused at her comic use of this visual aid.
"Indeed," she continued, "the catboy is effectively both things, extremely desperate and extremely satisfied at the same time. There is in fact no way to prove either is the case, precisely because both are simultaneously the case."
Another hand went up, a blonde in the front row.
"How is that possible?"
"Excellent question! With a simple answer: it is not."
The class laughed, and Madame Octavia smiled endearingly.
"Of course, something cannot be two things at once. Thus we are forced to ask, is it one, the other, both or neither? What do you think?"
She turned her pointer to a girl in the front row whos attention appeared fixated upon the box, who, a little startled, attempted to answer.
"Well... I suppose we might have an idea based on how long they've been in the box?"
The room was silent, and apart from that whine, everyone was awaiting Madame Octavia's response.
"An interesting proposal, indeed. Can anyone tell me why it doesn't work?"
A hand shot up, a girl with long black hair in glasses.
"Yes, the issue is certainty. No matter how long the catboy has been in the box, quantum mechanics dictates that you cannot say with any certainty if the catboy is aroused. Probability cannot overcome the possibility that he is not, and thus the quantum state persists."
"Excellent! Excellent! A round of applause, everyone."
The class politely clapped, and Madame Octavia stepped in front of the box, clasping her hands behind her.
"So, allow me then to extrapolate upon this fine young lady's explanation. Let us assume that within this box behind me is a catboy. He has been in there for, say, two weeks, during which time he has been subjected to an endless bombardment of auditory, olfactatory, gustatory, tactile, and mental stimulation. That is, all of his senses. Through properly drugged food and water, a virtual reality headset and earphones locked to his head, countless stimulatory toys, and a host of other devices, he has been subjected to the most extreme form of sexual torment possible."
The room fell hushed once more as her words rang out, and many girls felt a flutter in their stomachs at such a prospect. That kind of sexual torment was something many of them dreamed about, and longed to inflict.
"During that entire time the catboy has been unable to achieve any kind of sexual release."
The hushed silence instead was replaced with gasps and conspiratorial whispers, and no small amount of giggling.
"So, tell me, probability would tell us that he is very likely to be sexually desperate, yes?"
There was a general assent, murmured agreement through the lecture hall.
"However, Edwina Schrodinger has provided through her theory a dilemma. We cannot possibly know for sure, and yet we are simultaneously entirely certain he is both extremely desperate and yet totally satisfied."
Now Madame Octavia moved to the front of the box and began to adjust some panels which, given their colour was identical to that of the rest of the box, had remained hidden until now.
She slid away a panel around head height which, upon its removal, revealed a cool purple interior, lit by a ring of small lights built into the exterior of the window... within which was the head of a catboy, behind an evidently thick glass plate.
Little of his face could be seen past a VR headset, and a mask which appeared to be feeding him a constant atmosphere of thick, pink, cloying gas to inhale. Even masked as such, it was evident that the glass was fogged with what seemed to be his manic hyperventilation, or perhaps just the sweat beading down his face. Around his neck was a padded ring that supported his head, and atop his head a pair of twitching cat ears frantically flitted -- evidence of his total desperation.
The audience of young college girls were now practically shrieking in delight as the nature of Madame Octavia's demonstration was made apparent. This was no visual aid -- there really was a catboy in there.
"Quiet, quiet please, girls. Now observe closely."
Madame Octavia gestured to the window and turned to the lecture hall.
