Be A Good Test Subject

You wake up hazy and groggy with your arms tied down to your sides and your legs restrained in stirrups above you, your naked body on display. It didn't take you long to realize this when you came to, but it did take you a moment to see that you weren't the only one.

Although you couldn't lift your head to see past your raised hips, you know you're in a sterile lab of some kind, but none like you've ever seen before. There are transparent cubicles with humans in each one, and you have no idea how large the room is, but it almost seems to be the size of a warehouse judging by the echoing of distant footsteps and the way muffled conversations carry through the walls of your pod of a room.

People were coming to, all around you, and some had been awake for indeterminately long. You were contained in this odd, plexiglass box that had been fitted with a comfortable surface for you to rest on, a sort of indentation in the thick padding beneath you perfectly cradling your upper body. The faint inclined slope where your butt sits elevated is where the cubicle wall's main opening was, your hips and legs outstretched just barely past the edge of the cubicle. Your feet are in stirrups with cushioned rests under your legs that were, to your relief, very comfortable to relax against.

You thought you should be feeling more panicked, suddenly waking up in this facility full of odd cubicles, your naked body restrained and displayed like this, your ankles and wrists restrained by cushy medical-grade cuffs... but you felt completely at ease. The thumping in your chest wasn't something you noticed until a soothing, robotic voice pointed it out.

"Vitals recorded," it said in a feminine voice, almost sounding cheery as it quietly noted your heart rate increasing.

You wiggle a little, moving your shoulders and ass against the luxurious padding beneath you, as if trying to move even just a slight bit would help you get a better grasp of the place... but soon after the voice stopped, you heard footsteps coming close to you. It's now that you realize you were excited, stirring with anticipation.

You hadn't been paying attention to the voices that had roused you from sleep, but they picked up their conversation again right there, outside your cubicle. They were human men, one much older pale man and a younger, middle-aged man with darker skin. They both wore lab coats with badges pinned to the lapels, but any attempt to get a good look at them is thwarted by the soft fluorescent lights obscuring the plastic-covered lettering and photo with glare... it didn't matter anyway, they were clearly in some position of power over your captivity here.

They each held clipboards in one arm. The younger of the scientists--you assume they're scientists but, perhaps, they could be medical doctors--has his free hand in his lower front lab coat pocket. The older man, with graying hair, places a gloved hand through the opening of your cubicle's transparent partition and onto your bare abdomen as he speaks.

"Another new one's awake," he smiles at his research partner, absentmindedly patting your lower stomach and making you squeal quietly with pleasure at the touch.

With his silky-textured nitrile gloves applying a satisfying pressure to your belly with each pat, you hummed lustily. Neither of them seemed to notice or care.

"Schedule this one right away, I know just the specimen for this subject, after reviewing its lab panels," said the older man with a smirk.

He removes a circular indicator from a sheet of stickers clamped to his clipboard and attaches it to a tag outside your cubicle, but you can't see what it is once he pulls his hand back. The younger man accompanying him jots something down with a pen on his clipboard and waves a beckoning arm to something down the passageway after them before they move along.

Moments later, a trolley cart with loaded with a variety of sloshing, lidded specimen tanks was wheeled to your cubicle and some kind of attendant in blue medical scrubs, another human, reached into an aquarium on the top of the trolley and pulled out a wet, green, tentacled... thing.

You couldn't see much from over your raised hips but you could tell it was shiny with fluid and vibrantly-colored with bright green flesh. Its tentacles writhed in the attendant's gloved hands as they injected it with something. They wore a surgical cap and large face mask covering their mouth and nose, facial expression inscrutable as they guided this tentacled blob carefully to the lips of your cunt, making you gasp at the contact.

The fluid covering the organism was warm to the touch, almost soothing. The tentacles squirmed against your labia and clit. Your medically-prepped pussy hot and wet, greeted the mucus the creature started to excrete through its skin.

Before you had much time to react, a sequence of harmonic beeps sounded from inside your cubicle and a visible white gas rushed into the pod containing you. It was vanilla and lavender-scented, you identified... and your lungs easily inhaled in the aromatic mist, taking in the fine condensation while the rest of it settled on the skin of your naked form.

It began to make you feel a bit hazy and feverish, your skin growing hot all over as a familiar instinct arose in your nether region. The attendant between your legs let go of the creature and it climbed inside of you.

You could only groan in pleasure as it slowly made its way into your vagina, scaling your inner walls and settling just beneath your cervix before one tentacle at a time slipped through the dilating hole and the organism burrowed into your uterus with ease. You clenched uncontrollably, eyes rolling back. This felt like an orgasm but all you could feel was a heavy, solid ache in your core that seemed to radiate heat.

The steamy gas had made your body pliable and your mind enthusiastically willing. It induced the breeding instinct in you required for this... odd thing to fill you, making you more relaxed and malleable, but you don't care about that, nor do you care about whether or not you chose this.

That strange organism sitting inside your womb and now it is beginning to gestate. The tentacles which licked the lining of your uterus are like wet flames, when your body allows you to feel them, but were nowhere near as hot as the slimy fluid each of their sticky tips now begins to secrete deep within you, sealing your cervix to keep any of its seed from leaking out while it fills you with a thick, jelly-like substance.

The sensations you feel are incredible, pussy tensing as you feel like you're about to cum. The stretching in your uterus is having such an odd effect on you. It must be the gas, making you spill over the edge as your belly subtly distends in real time with a softball-sized lump now nestled inside you. It barely looks like anything, like you're less than a month pregnant and just beginning to show, but you are in awe at it... the firm mass peeking up, subtly writhing beneath the layers of flesh and muscle and organ tissue that surround it.

You might have doubted it before but you know for certain, at this point, that the gas had also begun to alter your mind because, for some reason, you felt overcome with an otherwise inexplicable euphoric joy at the thought that you are being made use of. You are helping this squirming creature reproduce or gestate or prepare your body for something else... you don't know what to expect, but you know that it feels like an honorable blessing has been bestowed upon you.

Another torrent of steam fills your cubicle, this time tinted a pale blue. Your relaxed state makes it no problem to breathe deeply, drawing in the mist which quickly puts you to sleep.

When you next awaken, you have no idea how much time has passed, but the lights in the facility seem a little dimmer to simulate 'night' as you peer over your pert tummy into the corridor.

Your belly is still distended, as if you're with child, but, at the most, you look like you're in the would-be 'first trimester' stage of largeness. Your breasts, where there once was a pair of modest A-cups, are aching and enlarged. Even your nipples have gotten a little bigger. Your boobs aren't necessarily huge, but they're definitely not the no-bra-required chest you once had.

This, you know, is the obvious byproduct of the hormones your body is now producing to nurture the foreign organism... or egg, perhaps... the gooey living mass lodged in your womb.

Your head was too groggy to pick up on it, but a group of young people, almost your age (though they each look maybe a handful of years older than you) came to a halt beside your spread legs and exposed pussy, examining your lithotomy-positioned body. They have lab coats on, some carrying notebooks while others carry their phones or a tablet and stylus, taking notes from the older scientist, the man who had patted your ripe-for-babymaking hips when you first awoke here.

"...And here, this first-time subject is breeding one of the most picky specimens, the lifeform we compared earlier to gastropoda and nudibranch... A living sac was placed inside the subject roughly thirty-six hours ago and has secreted the protective fluid which will suspend it in the womb and soon form a viable clutch of offspring once it is fertilized," the man says with a distinct Swiss-German accent.

He then looks right at you in your cubicle as you stare at him with glazed-over eyes, continuing.

"As you can see, the subject's breasts and anatomy have already reacted in compliment to the implantation, its mammary glands enlarging with milk and its abdomen distending to accommodate the forming membranes. Moving along..."

The scientist's voice fades as he leads the hoard of students down the row, stopping periodically to show them the, certainly, other remarkable subjects they're using to breed strange, newly-discovered species and extraterrestrials and hybrids alike.

The next time you awaken, you almost thought this would all be a dream, given how drugged up you were by the gas-dispensing advanced pods these scientists have been keeping you in.

Getting your bearings as you come to for the third time in this facility, you realize you're in a different room entirely. No longer in a cubicle with all those other people passing through the corridors on either side of you... but still positioned with your legs in stirrups and your body laying back.

Your arms are still restrained in padded cuffs, you realize upon trying to lift them and tend to your sore breasts. You weren't lactating... not yet, of course... but they were rather large. The changes were drastic, and in such little time, but, somehow, your body was accommodating whatever was taking up residence inside your womb.

You sigh a bit at the weight of your abdomen. You looked a little over fifteen weeks pregnant (that is, if this were a human you were carrying).

Once you find yourself fully awake, you're able to move your head from side to side and you feel confident that your environment isn't entirely new... but you're certainly not in a pod, not in the array of cubicles where you awoke the first time.

You still haven't quite placed how or why you are here, but you don't have the will to resist or put up a fight. You only have the overwhelming urge to nurture... along with an, overall, warm feeling in your body that accompanies your aroused state.

Come to think of it, your arousal has never quite died off... you haven't truly felt satiated this entire time, only tuckered out whenever you were handled. How long have you been here, anyway?

Gauging your surroundings is difficult, but you get the gist of the place, with the elegantly-installed fluorescent lights above you, dimmed enough to shed light on the room below them without blinding you, and... oh, there are people!

There are people, other test subjects, on either side of you! They're separated from you with partitions made of the same, durable plexiglass that insulated you in your cubicle before. They look just about as hazy and half-aware as you probably do, with their eyes somewhat glazed over, not even fully open... but, before you can think to yourself any further, a door on the far side of the room opens.

If you weren't so confined to your current... predicament, you would have seen that the room resembles a surgical auditorium, with you and the others in comfortable, hospital-grade cots arranged in a row, separated by the panes of plexiglass on either side and, most notably, a huge viewing window on the opposite wall.

You can't see it, but there are a number of human scientists on the other side... students, researchers, professors alike... all watching as the same, older man who had felt you up and assessed your breeding potential stepped into the center of the large, sterile room.

"Insemination for subjects..." he pauses to glance down at his tablet, "seven-seven-nine, ten-nineteen, eight-zero-five, and two-hundred forty-one, commencing."

The scientist doesn't speak for very long at all, keeping it brief and, unbeknownst to you, taking a seat in a stout mobile medical stool. He uses it to wheel himself out of his students' way in order for them to watch you all... you and the other subjects.

Soon, you hear more of those trolleys, but this time they sound as if they're carrying containers the size of refrigerators into the room. Heavy clunks resonating in the rectangular space in contrast to the hollow 'tink's you recall hearing from when this... pod... had been implanted inside you.

The masked and protection-covered attendants begin at the far end of the room, likely for the logistics of moving the big... containers... whatever they were. You'd find out soon enough.

You let your head fall to the side so you can watch as the subject next to you is tended to with a few puffs from an oxygen mask--probably being administered that same amazing-smelling purple vapor from inside your cubicle--and gloved hands fondling her still-tiny stomach and tits. She moans softly at their touch, the attendants at her legs securing the padded straps to keep them spread and comfortably bound to the stirrups where her feet are placed.

Once only a single attendant of the four is left to tend to her breasts and stomach, rubbing her to make her more compliant under the influence of the gas and prior implantation, you can see that the huge trolley is composed of four shelves, each holding massive slug-like creatures varying in color and pattern.

You would've assumed they were eels but, looking closely, some of them have appendages like long stalks and tentacles protruding from their fat, tube-shaped bodies. The new organisms writhe in their confinements, seeming displeased with their tight aquarium tanks... or maybe they were just as excited as you are.

Assistants waste no time lugging one of the tanks down from the four-tiered cart and onto a lower, stationary cart. With gloves covering their hands, masks covering their faces, clear plastic glasses over their eyes, and caps covering their heads, two of the attendants in scrubs hold it up between the subject's legs.

The other two nurses, one nursing the subject with tender fondling to her distended belly and tits, the other minding the trolley full of creatures, make quick verbal notes to the scientist, presumably their professor. The old man in the lab coat nods and watches, ticking off little marks on his tablet, it looked like.

The slug between the subject's legs beside you lurches forward and squirms around, making noises that remind you of a piglet before jutting forward with the help of its handlers and invades her cunt in the blink of an eye. Had you not been so drugged up, you probably would have gasped in shock but you watch, mesmerized, as a mere eighth of the eel-like worm squeezes into her. Before long, its body begins to get larger, resembling a slippery tube filled with golf balls.

One by one, the fleshy bulbs pushed into her and you hear some faint hollow sloshing without being able to see the source. The subject next to you is slack jawed, her mouth hanging open, as the attendant beside her dabs trickles of drool away from her lips. The subject's head lazily flops from one side to the other, her toes curling in the stirrups, hands flexing as her wrists push uncontrollably against the restraints.

You must have really been spacing out, so hypnotized by the neighboring subject's insemination that you didn't see how quickly they packed up the spent fertilizing slug to move onto your own partitioned breeding station.

The same attendant that soothingly groped the subject beside you is doing the same for your breasts and swollen tummy now, someone placing a silicone-lipped mask over your mouth and nose. It smells like vanilla, gas going straight into your nostrils as your body obediently breathes it in. Before you know it, a warm, numbing slickness is generously smeared onto your pussy with a gloved hand, making you sigh with pleasure.

When the slug from the next tank down is lowered from the tiered cart and placed onto the stand beside your cot, you feel yourself grow hungry with need. Your cunt clenches, hips moving against the cushion beneath your ass like you're presenting yourself.

It isn't long before the creature is pushed against your tight cunt.

The organism writhes in the nurses' hands, as if confused, but soon smells the gooey essence emanating from the thick pod in your womb, instinct taking it over. It forces its body inside you, swelling once it stuffs itself inside...but you soon learn, as the leach-like mouth wriggles into your vagina, the swollen segments of its body are thick with deposits of hot and fizzing liquid. It's viscous and thick, the substance bubbling inside you, making your guts tingle. It seems to move on its own into your waiting cunt, past your cervix. You feel so full, your uterus is hot... the things it's doing to you are incredible, and you also begin to lull your head back and forth at the feeling.

So warm... So full...

You tense unconsciously, tensing as if your body is making you suck up all the fertilizing goo, and you wish for a moment you were more lucid so that your senses might be in tune enough to help you climax... but you don't.

Instead, you get pleasure from the firm rubbing of an attendant's gloved hands on your lower stomach, between your pubic mound and your belly button, that spot feeling so warm as your muscles relax and let it expand. Warmth spreads to your tits, your blissed-out screaming inner self so grateful for the attendant massaging and playing with your breasts as the fertilization takes place.

The biology of your body is being manipulated so much in so little time, you think... even your brain... you feel purposeful yet mindless... and it feels amazing. With a little grunt as the slug is efficiently retracted from you, however, you pass out again in your cot, sleeping while those pumps of bubbly slime go to work.

For what feels like days or possibly weeks, now, you've been kept in a kind of happy and pleasurable stupor, dosed with the lavender and vanilla and candy-scented gasses that made you so hot and aroused, and so tired that you fell asleep with each rush of endorphins you received from your impregnators.

However long it'd been, you knew it was a while... or, perhaps, the gas had more of an affect on your limbs than you originally thought; one day, as you awoke (though it was still downright impossible to discern time of day or the passage of time in this facility), a pair of attendants in the typical scrubs and protective masks, gloves, and hair coverings come by your cubicle and open the front partition.

The gap at the bottom of the front plexiglass panel sliding seamlessly over your legs in their stirrups. They help you out of your restraints and you comply wordlessly, your whole body bare and swollen with spawn.