The last thing you remember is drinking at the bar. It was Friday night, you had four days until you had to go back to work and you were determined to celebrate. You were overdue for a girl's night out anyway. You knew you had been drinking way too hard, so you had called for a ride home. That was the last thing you could recall, and you weren't sure if you had ever made it to that ride.
Your head was incredibly foggy. Just opening your eyes was a monumental effort. You seemed to be laying down, but you had no idea where you were or how you had gotten there. You tried to move, but your body didn't respond.
If you focused, you were able to open your eyes and look around but you didn't seem to be able to raise your head. Your eyes and tongue seemed to be working but everything lower than that was numb. You would have been terrified, but you couldn't really form coherent thoughts.
You were laying on your back, on a flat surface. It didn't seem to be padded and was more like a table. You realized it was cold, probably metal. Even though you couldn't move you still seemed to have feeling. You were still fully dressed in the jeans and shirt you'd worn out drinking. A bright light seemed to be coming from above you, lighting the area.
There was the sound of movement somewhere beyond your feet, and you heard a voice speak up. It sounded like a man. The tone was deep and rather pleasantly reassuring.
"Ah, you are finally awake. We can get started. I've been waiting for so long."
He was well spoken, though he had a bit of an accent that you couldn't place. You tried to raise your body, but were still completely unable to move. His footsteps came closer, and he spoke up again.
"Just lay back and relax. This is all according to plan. I've given you a paralytic sedative to keep you helpless. Your muscles can still feel and work fine, but the nerves that signal movement are temporarily numbed. It would be bad for both of us if you were able to move."
You strained again, but your muscles refused to respond and you knew it was true. You felt your feet moving and realized he was removing your shoes as carefully as possible, trying to avoid hurting you. He tossed them aside, and then removed your socks as well, leaving you barefoot.
Then, there was a shearing metal noise. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see hands holding high quality medical scissors. Your vision was still too blurry to make out any other details. The noise came again, this time accompanied by tearing cloth. He continued speaking as he worked.
"You see, I found you out at the bar. I'd been searching for someone like you, to help me satisfy a certain need."
The cutting noise came again. You felt something metal brush your leg, moving higher. You realized that he was cutting his way up the leg of your jeans. You tried to be afraid, to feel the stirrings of panic, but it only made your head spin. You reclined your head against the table and closed your eyes, trying to ease the vertigo.
By the time your breathing returned to normal, he had reached the top of your jeans. His hand pushed under to hold the waist band out and away from your skin as it was cut. It released with a snap as the scissors cut through it easily. He moved to repeat the process on your other leg, still talking.
"Don't struggle. Just relax. The sedative will help you rest. Don't fight it. It will all be over soon. I just want to borrow your body, for a few minutes."
The scissors finished their work on the other side and your jeans went limp, little more than a denim covering now. He peeled them back from your lower half, tugging them out from underneath you and tossing them aside. Now you lay there in your panties, legs sprawling casually open.
You'd worn your cute Hello Kitty panties out that night, expecting to drink and relax, not fuck. No one was supposed to see them. Even at the best of times, you didn't consider yourself one of the attractive girls. You weren't sexy. You weren't the kind of girl that someone takes home from a bar. You hadn't had sex in years, and even then you were hardly experienced. Mostly, you just laid back while they did their business and was grateful when it was over.
Now your cute panties were on display. Even through the mental fog you felt humiliated. Your face burned as you blushed furiously. You tried to cover yourself or close your legs, but there was only the persistent numbness.
The faceless voice laughed, either at your panties or your blush, you couldn't be sure which. You felt fingers touch your stomach, points of warmth that trailed down toward your crotch. If you had been able to shiver, you would have. A single finger slipped beneath your panties, pulling them slightly. You braced yourself for a deeper touch, but sighed with internal relief as it withdrew without further violation.
"I love these. They are adorable. They look great on you too. Cute, but sexy."
He came closer, and you caught a variety of unusual smells. His was quite pleasant, but it was mixed with antiseptic and other things you couldn't identify. His hand raised the hem of your shirt, allowing the scissors to catch it and begin cutting. You wanted to beg, to plead, as they steadily stripped away your clothing. You began to panic as they approached your neck. It was over in seconds, and then your torn shirt was taken and discarded as well. You felt relief that the scissors were gone, but panic and embarrassment as you lay there in your underwear.
