The booth operator continued talking into his collar mike, pointing to the demonstration unit to highlight his words. We were all crowded around the brightly lit convention stall, watching his pitch.
"...That's right. Your benefits are several-fold. Flexible material adjusts perfectly to fit, and provides a superior lock. The tip slides easily and seals outward, and the recessed shaft prevents irritation and injury - and even increases stimulation and wellbeing. Our patented, extraordinary gliding capacity allows gentle insertion and removal."
He surveyed the crowd with his salesman's eye.
"But we don't just talk the talk. We walk the walk. Let me show you."
He waved toward me with a flourish, and beckoned with his finger. Before I could react, two pairs of hands had grabbed my arms from either side and lifted me bodily from my place, carrying me into the booth. I shrieked in surprise and protest, and the booth operator took the opportunity to stuff a wet rag in my open mouth, muffling me somewhat. The soaked cotton tasted strangely sweet, not quite alcohol-like. I couldn't prevent rivulets of it running down my throat as I tried to spit it out while struggling mightily in the unyielding grip of two lab-coated men. The operator resumed speaking.
"I'm using a recommended combined preparation 'Redier-6' and 'Ovulex', represented in booths 301 and 412, respectively - you should give them a visit if you haven't already. This quick-acting team takes mere minutes to awaken and strengthen natural instincts while neutralizing..."
The voice faded to a buzz as I continued fighting the two - no three? - people manhandling me. My vision blurred a little also, as the crowd around the booth became warped and indistinct. I was being carried/dragged toward the center of the booth toward a low covered table. Between one blurry blink and the next, the covering cloth was pulled off, revealing underneath something that looked more like a large, tilted hassock. It was to this I was guided and forced down upon. I still fought, pulling, kicking, trying to scratch at my captors, but things were feeling increasingly weird. My head wasn't exactly woozy, more like punchy, like I'd pulled an all-nighter - or two in a row. Everything had that little tinge of unreality to it. And more... this molten feeling started in my belly. At first it was queasiness, but then the sensation moved lower, churning up heat as it went. It went lower still, getting hotter, and then seemed to detonate and radiate outward. My abdomen spasmed, and I moaned into the half-dislodged rag as a wave of pleasure rolled over me.
"...can see, it's been less than five minutes, and we're pretty much ready to go."
The voice of the operator was back, though sounding distant. I looked around in a daze. The too-bright booth lights had little rainbow haloes around them. I turned my dazzled eyes down and saw my wrists attached to the white vinyl of the hassock-sides with wide, similarly colored cuffs. Distressed, but not nearly as much as I thought I should be, I looked up and around at the slightly blurry crowd - some of them were looking at me, some at the operator, the rest at the two big video displays on the wall. I dizzily turned to look that way, too. One of them showed... me! I could see the camera just below the screen on the back wall, capturing my image from the side, with the crowd opposite looking on. I was bent over the hassock, my upper torso just over the front edge, ribcage resting on the padded top. The hassock wasn't flat, rather curving upward slightly as it went back, forcing my back into a slight arch, and raising my rear end a little higher than my head's level. White straps crossed my back below my shoulders and waist at its narrowest, and secured to the hassock sides.
"...We're also using the adjustable 'Sembench II' (Booth 260), for superior comfort, accessibility and visibility..."
My legs were parted, knees fastened, half bent, to more white loops on the side of the hassock. My skirt, tight around my upper thighs, had been lifted to allow my legs to open as much as they were. My feet, still in my heels, dangled a couple inches off the floor below white-cuffed ankles. It was decidedly odd to see myself, bound half straddled like that, still in my business suit. My convention nametag dangled from my neck, alongside the rag hanging from my half-stuffed mouth.
The second screen showed a different view - from right behind me. It showed my rear end, covered by my partly hiked-up knee-length suit-skirt. I knew it was I, because the upturned buttocks quivered when I tried to flex my muscles. My attempt failed to get me anywhere, but succeeded in sending another wave of sensation through me, centered between my legs. I felt hot... and more, or worse: *needful*. It was a strange, new feeling; like hunger, but not for food. I almost ached with it. I moaned - at my lack of ability to do anything about it.
"...and to prove just how clean and efficient our system is," the operator continued, "we're not going to use any more preparation than this. I won't need more than this," he pulled his a silk kerchief from his breast pocket and held it up, "for cleanup. I'll personally pay everyone's dry-cleaning bill today if I'm wrong." That drew laughs as he walked around behind me and slowly worked my skirt up my legs. I tried to squirm away from the touch of his dry, warm hands, but that only made his job easier. My skin tingled at his touch, and at the sliding of my lined skirt up my bare legs. I could see him working in both camera views, until he'd pulled the hem up and over my rear end, exposing my panties.
I turned away from the screen for a moment, feeling my cheeks burning and caught sight of - myself again. Behind the various sales posters and diagrams, the walls of the convention booth were shiny, mirrored silver. I saw reflected in the opposite wall my blushing face and dazed, dilated eyes looking right back at me. I could see the mounds of my panty-covered ass-cheeks rising behind my head, as my upturned skirt had been smoothed out over my back. I could see the booth operator reflected, as well, he was reaching a hand toward me.
"You can see our preparation work has been successful," he was saying, his hand waving to the camera behind me, "self lubrication is already well underway. Mind you, while this is recommended, it is not - and I'll say this again - *not* necessary. Our EasiGlide catheter needs no additional lubrication whatsoever."
I couldn't help myself and turned to see the screen. The camera had zoomed in on the crotch of my panties, where a damp spot darkened the material. Even though I saw them coming on the screen, I jerked at the touch of the operator's hand again as two fingers slipped between the fabric and my skin and pulled the material to the side, exposing me on the 50" flat screen. My lower lips were swollen in obvious arousal, and slightly parted due my position. I could see - everyone could see - my own juices glistening between the folds.
"We're definitely ready! Now, we have an automated system, and we have trained professionals, but I'm so sure of our product that I'll bet any one of you here today can complete the operation, even with no experience." He paused for a moment, surveying the crowd again. "How about you, Ma'am?"
With his free hand, he pointed to the watching crowd. In the side-view screen, a woman with a surprised look on her face pointed to herself, questioningly, then slowly nodded and stepped forward. I turned my head around away from the screens and back to the crowd, and my eyes, struggling for focus, caught hers. She was dressed a lot like myself: conservative dark business suit and low heels. Her dark hair was in a ponytail, while my blond was done up in a bun, but we both fit the standard parameters. My thoughts slid around a big hollow room in my head. But I could read her eyes. She knew our places could easily have been reversed. Her cheeks colored as she looked away from me.
"...just take a hold of this end here. Fell how the ergonomic grip conforms to your hand? There you go. This demonstration model is exactly the same as our standard, but we've added a tiny button camera into the tip for our benefit today. We'll just switch video 2's view, there, and we're ready to begin." He gave my rear end a little pat, and I jerked again. "Just line it up like so... that's it."
I turned my head once again to the screens. The full-length view still showed me on the hassock, my skirt basically inverted, laid over the small of my back and up under my tummy. The booth operator stood with his back to the camera, fingers of his right hand crooked in my panties holding them aside. His other hand was directing the volunteer, who stood next to him, looking down at my upturned rear end. She brought the LifeTube down and level to point right at my exposed sex. It had looked reasonable-sized when the operator had been holding it by himself, but as it lined up with my parted labia, the glistening, textured shaft didn't look small at all. The ridged tip of it glowed with a small light, which pointed right between my legs. My gaze was drawn to the other screen now, where a slightly wavering, but much closer view of my upturned vagina filled the screen.
"Go ahead," the operator said, and the camera view got closer and closer until....
"MMmmuUuUUHHH!" My moan increased in volume as the rag finally fell from my mouth. The merest touch of the subtle, slippery shaft scratched an itch that had been building rapidly in me, but only barely. I jerked and tried to hump back onto it, but it withdrew quickly. I tried to speak my frustration, but only another moan escaped my lips.
"Don't worry. That's a normal reaction, you're not hurting her, I swear. Really. Try again, see how easily it slides in."
The scene on the screen showed my wet lips come closer, closer, then a tunnel of moist, pink flesh sliding across the view. I moaned again, louder, wanting to avoid the steady insertion, but instead raising my ass higher towards the sensation. The shaft was so slippery-good in me. Opening, filling me, stretching me....
"...feel that extraordinary gliding capability? Go back and forth a few times. Easy, right? And let me show you, see this number in the lower left, that's internal pressure or "tightness". Average is about a 3.0, but here, wow! We're seeing solid 4's. Doesn't feel like it does it? I thought not.
The shaft moved back and forth inside me, making me groan the deeper it filled, and shudder with each slide out. My inner muscles squeezed it, and the textured shaft set off sparks of sensation all through my insides.
"Now, gently, push it in, watching the screen."