Guyver – Second Chance – Part 2_(0)

Guyver - Second Chance - Part 2 {KatieKittyKat} (F tech mast nc sci-fi)

Author: KatieKittyKat

Title: Guyver - Second Chance - Part 2

Summary: A young girl on vacation encountered a Guyver unit, an alien

device that gave her a protective suit of Bio-Armour. She gradually came to

terms with it, when she realised that she wasn’t being harmed at all. Over the

next few days she learned a few things about the suit, especially its ability to

protect her when she was in danger. She now continues her exploration of the

unit’s capabilities, and some very pleasant advantages.

Keywords: F, tech, sci-fi, mast, nc

Wednesday 19 February 2014

Credits: This story was written by Katie, and based on one of Katie’s childhood

fantasies.

Guyver - Second Chance - Part 2

*****************

Joyce Butler was out hiking in the woods, when she was attacked and raped,

but she managed to hit the guy with a branch, and make her escape. Running

through the woods, she’d tripped and fallen, knocking herself out, and while

she was unconscious, she’d merged with a Guyver unit, an alien device that

needed a host in order to survive long term.

Later that day, when the Guyver had activated a Bio-Armour suit, encasing

her completely, Joyce had initially been terrified, but gradually came to terms

with it, when she realised that she wasn’t being harmed at all. Over the next

few days she learned a few things about the suit, especially its ability to

protect her when she was in danger.

She now continues her exploration of the unit’s capabilities, and some very

pleasant advantages.

*****************

Joyce returned to the cabin, stopping by the admin office to thank the guy at

the desk for his help, and to rib him for not warning her about the bear she’d

seen on her hike, though she didn’t go into detail over exactly what happened.

Locking the door, she stripped off, and took a shower to wash away the sweat

and dirt from the hike, getting distracted, as usual, by warm soapy hands on

her body. She gingerly felt inside her pussy, finding her broken cherry still

sore, but not enough to put a stop to her fingering it for a while, in fact, the

discomfort turned her on more. A growl from her tummy made her realise she

was hungry, so she rinsed off the soap, and wrapped a towel round her naked

body. She warmed a tin of soup, which she ate with the last of her bread,

made a fresh pot of coffee, then took out her notebook to write down what had

happened so far with the mysterious suit.

She started a new page, headed “Commands”, recording those phrases that

she thought trigged various aspects of the suit, the visor, earphones, maps,

and most important, getting the suit off altogether. She didn’t vocalise any of

them, as she wasn’t ready to activate the suit just yet, it would probably be a

distraction, until she’d managed to record some of the information she’d been

able to work out up to now. She particularly wanted the command set, to stop

her having to go through so much trial and error, just to get something basic

to happen, although she didn’t really class any of this as straightforward.

Turning to another page, Joyce began recording some of the things she’d

observed, several things that she thought were missing, and some of the suit

functions that she wanted to explore, adding at the bottom, in capital letters,

“REWARD SYSTEM”. It made her wet just thinking about the orgasms she’d

had lately, while the suit was in place, but she had some serious research to

do first, so she’d leave play time till later.

Getting up, Joyce went and stood by the wall mirror, with her back to it, then

held up the signal mirror she’d brought over with her, using it to watch the

back of her neck, where the suit usually seemed to disappear. “Restore

Earphones”, she said, and as her neck tingled, she saw a small area at the

base of her skull, about the size of a quarter, begin to shimmer with a pale

green light. Quickly, the gray material of the suit appeared, splitting into two

threads that moved round her head, and into her ears, within seconds, then

began to play the radio stations that the device had been scanning earlier.

She asked for “Popular Charts”, “Country and Western”, then “Classical”, the

music switching to the requested station each time.

“OK, so we’ve got a cool Ipod,” said Joyce, “let’s try something else.”

“Audio off!”, turned the music off, “Audio on!”, switched it back on again.

“Remove Earphones”, made them disappear into the back of her neck, which

she watched this time, noting the green glow, and the tingle, which she was

getting used to now.

Joyce wanted to explore the visor next, so she thought about how she could

shorten, and standardise the commands, to make things quicker and easier.

While the suit seemed to respond well to properly phrased sentences, she

wondered if there were key words she could use instead. The audio had

worked with off and on, so she said, “Visor On”, and watched through her

mirrors as a much larger volume of material appeared out of the back of her

skull, wrapped round her head, then she couldn’t see anything. Of course, the

visor covered her eyes, so she was now blind, till the internal screens came

on a second later, but she wouldn’t be able to actually see the visor being fully

fitted. She’d have to set up the video on her camera next time she tried this

one, but as she ran her hands over the outside of the visor, the volume of the

device made her wonder where, exactly, it fitted in her skull. Something this

big must give her a killer headache, but all she’d felt was a tingle. Another

thing for her list of questions, if she could get the suit to answer them.

She got the visor to show the TV stations she’d watched out on her hike, then

a couple of SciFi channels, spending far too long on her favourite episode of

Star Trek, though it did make a pretty neat personal television set.

Next she had the visor run through all the various functions she’d found this

afternoon, such as location, and range, finally getting it to switch to normal

vision, so she could see her immediate surroundings, although they had a

strange coloured tinge to the image. When she asked, “Why is this different to

what I can see with my eyes?” there was quite a pause, then the visor gave

an audio stream, which Joyce assumed was an explanation in the native

language, but she did pick out “enhanced, thermal, surface, and depth”. If this

image was “surface depth”, then maybe it could look deeper, below the

surface, like an x-ray.

“Increase depth”, began to display the timber studs behind the wall, as well as

the pipes and wires running through them, then she could see the trash can

that was outside her cabin.

“Surface depth”, brought it back to normal, then she tried to get it to identify

individual components, “Scan cables”, “Scan Pipes”, worked well, fading out

most of the other structures on the display. Joyce had an idea developing,

that she’d read in one of her SciFi stories years ago, it had intrigued her then,

and it was getting even more interesting now. “Scan for Copper”, she said, but

the display just spun round the room, showing the basic view, stopped, and

announced, “Analysis required.”

Joyce took her necklace off, which was a 1970 penny that had belonged to

her Mom, made of 95% copper, on a 24k gold chain. She slipped the penny

off the chain, which she put on the dresser, then held the coin on the palm of

her outstretched hand. The visor screen changed to zoom in on the penny,

then swept a spectral analysis display in from the side, finally writing “Analysis

Complete” across the image. Instead of her hand, the visor now showed the

wall again, with “Scanning”, running across the top, and all of the structure

gradually fading away, till just the copper water pipes remained, and the bare

electrical wires, spaced by the thickness of the plastic coating. She could also

see the brass fittings inside the power sockets, and sink taps, all of them were

displayed clearly, in their natural colour, while surrounding material was about

90% opaque.

“What is the effective range to scan copper”, Joyce asked, whereupon the

visor displayed ‘500 yards at current power level’.

“What is the maximum range”, she continued, and the display changed to

‘2000 miles, but power insufficient without recharge’.

Joyce was pleased with the results so far and now wanted to try an extremely

important test, the one that had really piqued her interest so many years ago.

She put down the penny, and picked up her gold chain, held out her hand,

and said, “Analysis of Gold, please?” The visor showed the spectral scan,

though the pattern looked different this time, and it took less than a minute

before the display read “Analysis Complete”, again. Now was the crunch,

“Scan for Gold”, Joyce said, “Range 50 feet”, then watched the visor as it

displayed the room, most of it fading out, leaving the chain in her hand, two

rings on her fingers, and her bracelet in the bottom of her backpack. This was

just what she was hoping for, all of her gold jewellery, exactly where she knew

it would be, but then she noticed another object, off to the side of the display.

Turning to face towards it, she centred the image on screen, then said “Zoom

in 20%”, watching the image gradually increase in size, and then studying the

surrounding structures. After a few minutes she recognised the wash basin,

and the trap in the drain beneath it, with a ring lodged in the bottom of the

bend.

“Visor Off”, she said, blinking as her normal vision returned, and then going

over to unscrew the wash basin drain, catching the water in the trash can, and

finding a small gold ring at the bottom as well. She dried it off, put it on the

dresser, and then put the wash basin back together. Well, at least she could

be a treasure hunter if people lost their jewellery. The next stage of this

particular line of her investigation would have to wait a few days, as she

needed to move location.

There were other attributes of the suit that she wanted to study though, and

she issued the command, “Visor On!”, feeling much less disorientation this

time, as the device wrapped round her head, and the screen came to life.

“Explain the bra and panties that you used this morning,” Joyce said, and the

display showed the two items, exactly as she remembered them. As the

image rotated, even showing the insides, it was accompanied by a dialogue,

mostly in the suit’s native language, which still sounded like Chinese, with an

occasional English word or two thrown in. “Stop!”, Joyce said, and the display

froze, so she continued, “Less technical this time, more general. Resume!”

The screen went blank, then ran the display again, this time with a narrative

that was 80% English, and 20% Chinese, explaining how it had been repairing

tissue damage to her breasts, and vagina, based on localised composition,

and had also restructured her hymen. When it mentioned DNA enhancement,

Joyce had asked for more information, and the dialogue had reverted to

mostly Chinese again, but she managed to break down the suit’s explanation.

After running through it several times, she understood that the suit had made

changes to her body’s basic repair mechanism that would increase its overall

effectiveness threefold. This meant that any injury she sustained would heal

faster and better than it had ever done before.

Joyce now broached the subject of the sexual stimulation the suit used, in

what seemed to be a reward system, watching as the display showed her the

structures that had been created inside the suit, round her nipples and clitoris.

When she asked how the suit actually produced the stimulation, it told her that

direct pressure, and friction, was caused by changing the shape of the suit,

while power output components delivered small electrical charges. It could

also create vacuum sections to apply suction to areas of the host’s body.

Joyce enquired about what control system it used, since it had been very

effective today, and the suit told her that numerous monitoring systems that

were in place throughout her body provided feedback to control various levels

of sensation.

Joyce wanted to try out the control systems, so she could test their sensitivity,

and because all this talk of sexual stimulation was turning her on, big time, but

she couldn’t think of a suitable command sequence. She couldn’t just say,

“Play with my pussy”, it sounded so very desperate. She asked the suit what

circumstances would initiate the stimulation mechanism, and was told the

primary use was as a reward for performing tasks, particularly in a battle

scenario. It was also used as a pain control, because it stimulated the basic

endorphin production of the brain, and with this host it could be used as a

power supply.

Joyce thought this last point was rather unusual, and asked for clarification,

having to remind the visor to reduce the technical level so that she could

understand what it was saying. Apparently, the unit was designed first to be

powered by tapping in to a nuclear fuel cell system, to charge its own internal

storage, or in emergencies, it could tap into the physical, and neural energy of

the host. This had always been of minimal use in the previous hosts, but the

current host produced a high background power level, which could be greatly

increased by stimulating the pleasure centres.

Joyce wasn’t very comfortable with being called a ‘host’, it was so impersonal,

and made her feel like a lab rat under these circumstances, so she asked the

visor if it could refer to her by her proper name. It took quite a bit of creative

discussion to convey that ‘Joyce Butler’ was the name that identified her as an

individual, although the suit still insisted on calling it a designation, then even

more work to get the suit to address her just as ‘Joyce’ in conversation.

Turning the reasoning the other way round was even more difficult, as Joyce

tried to discover who, or what, this suit thing was, and what it was doing inside

her head, literally. The Guyver, which it often used references to, seemed to

be a creature of indeterminate age, although it was very old, and mentioned

being familiar with dinosaurs when they were on earth, that was housed inside

a complex device called a Guyver Unit.

Joyce eventually got it to reveal that its own personal designation was ‘Div

Pemib’, though it knew of no specific event that it could recognise having

been addressed as such. The name was something embedded deep inside its

core being, that identified its inner self, but it was usually addressed by a

string of numbers, like a serial number, in any communications it had with

other people. While it preferred the precision of being addressed by its

number, it agreed that Joyce could call it Div, if she wanted to, and it would

respond, especially as it was the only one of its kind in the vicinity, so there

was unlikely to be any confusion. In fact, Div had not been able to contact any

other of its companions for many years, though it did have a partial record of

its last contact, but since its timing system had been damaged, it didn’t even

know where, or when, it was now. Joyce provided the current date, and local

time, which Div used to reset its internal clock, then a quick status check

routine revealed that it had been fairly inactive for 35 years or thereabouts,

perhaps 45 years. The routine was beginning to return lots of conflicting data

now, so the Guyver turned it off till it could perform some repairs on internal

mechanisms.

When Joyce enquired what Div had been doing for 35 years, he said that for

most of it he was shut down, without any contact with a host, so power was

extremely limited. Sometimes he shut down to conserve it; sometimes it had

been a malfunction that turned off the power, forcing him back into inactivity.

Joyce asked why he didn’t just find a host, if that would supply him with power

to maintain his systems, but Div explained that he had to be in physical

contact with a prospective host, or at most one yard away to enable him to

deploy a probe, as he’d done with Joyce. The host had to be large enough to

contain an anchor point, and active enough, physically and mentally, to supply

sufficient power to maintain basic systems.

Joyce had been ideal, as she was a very close match to the last set of hosts

that the Guyvers had used, simian in construction, but she was vastly more

active, especially in mental capacity. He had tried smaller creatures a few

times, but without being able to gain access to an anchor point, the unit had to

remain externally mounted, and could easily be dislodged. He’d disabled a

few hosts in order to stay connected for longer, but this drastically reduced the

available power they produced, and they soon became totally inactive. In

answer to Joyce’s enquiry about what an access point was, the visor showed

her a scan of the base of her skull, where a solid object, about one inch

diameter was lodged.

Div carefully structured his explanation to Joyce’s level of understanding, with

enough information to let her know that the Guyver device was a suit of alien

Bio Armour that fitted the wearer in full symbiosis. It had a small contact point

somewhere inside the body, which connected to a sub-dimension that held

the main body of the unit, activating to a full suit when needed. When he’d

merged with her in the woods, he’d initiated a trigger sequence internally, and

the Guyver unit changed shape, dissolving into a fluid mass that drew itself

into her neck. He’d constructed the contact point as an active portal, and then

slowly merged inside the structure to anchor itself in the sub-dimensional

resting zone.

While Joyce admitted that the science was way over her head, she could

grasp the concepts involved, fascinated by how many of them linked to

science fiction stories she’d read. Div told her how the power system was

linked through the portal, drawing power from her own body metabolism to

charge the Guyver’s storage devices, which were at last rising above critical.

While the re-charge process was slow, it was at least consistent and very

reliable thanks to Joyce, for which Div was extremely grateful, although there

would be expenditure problems with too many attack scenarios like the bear.

Smiling at a thought forming in her mind, Joyce asked what it would take to

replace the power they’d used in their fight in the woods today, and her eyes

lit up at Div’s response. Apparently it would take an output level similar to the

reward Joyce had enjoyed yesterday, when the suit had repeatedly given her

a climax, but maintained for at least a full hour.

Joyce felt her pussy getting wet at the idea of being pleasured non-stop for an

hour, without having to do anything herself, so she told Div that she’d be very

happy to help out with providing extra power before she went to bed. Taking

off her underwear, Joyce stood in front of the large mirror, studying her naked

reflection, then said “Panties On”, feeling the narrow stream of material flow

down her spine. It spread over her butt, and between her legs, exciting her

anal rosebud and slit as the warm substance squeezed along her groove,

then over her pubic mound, to join at her hip bones. While it felt delicious to

be wrapped up in this way, she wasn’t overly pleased about the way the dull

gray garment looked, and asked if the colour was configurable. Div admitted

that gray was the raw material colour, but the surface could have a modified

reflective index if required. Joyce took a pair of panties from her backpack,

red satin with cream lace trim, and held them up, asking Div to copy the

design for her. The visor quickly deployed, which Joyce was quite used to

now, and she watched the analysis scan being performed, then it withdrew,

and she could see the suit panties take on the red and cream colouring of her

own garments. They didn’t look very soft and delicate, but they were far more

attractive than before and when she requested “Bra On”, this was deployed

with the red and cream design, making a fairly nice looking set.

Joyce asked for the stimulation to be started at low levels for a little while, and

the gentle tingle in her titties and clit felt wonderful while she was tidying her

things away for the night. Eventually she got onto the bed, lying back as an

orgasm began to build in her tummy, the sensations rising higher as she

began to squirm about, then she stiffened as the climax crashed over her,

thrusting her hips into the air. The suit held her at the peak for several mind

bending minutes, stimulating every erogenous zone in her body, till at last it

let her down a little bit. It had been a beautiful climax, and Joyce was hungry

for more, but she knew she’d not be able to keep still for many more like that,

so she asked Div to restrain her to the bed until he’d finished with her.

The suit extended along the back of her outstretched limbs, wrapping round

her wrists and ankles with the same red and cream colouring as her undies,

then reaching out to the corners of her bed. Now that she was firmly held in

place, Div turned up the stimulation to her tits and clit, quickly bringing her to

the edge of orgasm. As Joyce began to thrust her hips about, she felt the suit

tighten to the bed, stretching her arms and legs, then bands snapped round

her elbows and knees, holding her totally immobile. Now the shocks to her

nipples and clit really ramped up, and just before she climaxed, the suit began

to form two large shafts in her panties, then quickly drove them both fully in.

Joyce was held at the peak of her orgasm for nearly five minutes, fucked by

two huge dildoes, and electrocuted in her most sensitive places till her stress

levels approached the point of collapse. The intense stimulation then backed

off, allowing some rest, but not much, and not for long, before her clit was

zapped again, and the dildo rammed right into the top of her channel, pushing

her instantly to the pinnacle of pleasure again.

She must have endured over a dozen such mind blowing, body wracking hits,

though she could hardly keep track of them, and each one seemed even more

powerful than the last. Finally she was allowed to take a rest, her restraints

and clothing retracting to leave her laid naked on the bed, where she slept till

morning.

Joyce slowly roused from her slumber just after 9am with an insistent beep in

her ear, and when she reached her hand up there, she found that Div had

deployed a single earphone, which it seemed was her personal alarm clock.

When she asked what the problem was, Div said there was a news broadcast

on the local TV channel that she may be interested in, and Joyce felt the suit

constructing the visor round her head. In a few seconds the display activated,

then a story came on the screen about the police looking for a girl who’d gone

missing in the woods, and her body had been found by hikers this morning.

The incident had occurred several miles away, and there was very little extra

information just yet, but Div pointed out that the police and news services may

create problems with their increased presence, and Joyce’s involvement.

Joyce was puzzled as to what her involvement was in this as she didn’t know

the girl involved, and hadn’t been in that area, so Div explained that there was

a high probability that the criminal was the same man that had raped her a

few days ago. Div had used the suit’s resources to scan the area as soon as

the first news was released, based on the similarities to Joyce’s incident, and

the evidence had confirmed his suspicions. It was, however, just a probability,

and would require an actual presence to collect conclusive evidence, but he

could only do that with Joyce’s support, if she wanted to be instrumental in the

police apprehending this person.

While it had been a traumatic experience for Joyce, she realised that she had

not reported the attack, because of all the complications with the Guyver suit,

and she felt this second girl might not have been attacked if the police had

been aware that a rapist was in the area. Joyce told Div that she would do as

much as she could to help catch him, and after a brief discussion of tactics,

she showered, dressed, had some breakfast, and then hiked out to where Div

told her. She had the suit’s earphones fitted, and the Guyver told her exactly

what paths were safest, to avoid detection by anyone else that was around,

until an hour later Div had her slow down, then stand perfectly still.

The suit’s visor initiated, and the display was mainly in a scan and analyse

mode, Joyce trying to track the green cross into the centre of the screen, till

Div told her he needed the gloves for a physical sample. Joyce felt the gloves

encase her hands, then slowly extended her fingers over the area indicated

on the display, watching as a very slender probe reached down to the ground.

After a few seconds, Div announced that he had a positive DNA match for the

reproductive fluids just sampled, and those that had been present in Joyce’s

body when they’d first met. This was definitely the same man. The sample

also contained traces from a female with a different DNA family, and a high

level of hormones that would indicate a recent reproductive cycle.

A few feet away, Joyce followed the green cross to another scan the visor

was conducting, stopping when Div warned her not to contaminate the scene,

and then reading the display where it identified a large area of blood, with a

DNA match to the female. Joyce asked the Guyver to initiate a wider scan for

the same DNA pattern, finding a piece of rope, with two loops covered in skin

and blood samples, tied to a tree branch. Joyce recalled the agony she’d felt

when her own breasts had been viciously bound like this, and she cried for

this poor girl’s suffering. The visor zoomed in, and Div pointed out the traces

of another DNA on the rope, cross matching it to the semen sample, linking

the rapist to this scene with more evidence.

A beep to one side made Joyce swing her gaze over there, where the visor

was framing something lodged in a low bush, enlarging the image till she

could identify a pair of panties. The display heading was “DNA Scan”, but

there were two very distinct colour patterns, which Joyce queried, reading the

side text that popped up explaining that it was male and female samples, from

both of the previous identified individuals. Div explained that the garment was

95% coated with human reproductive fluids, of which 38% were from the male

subject, while 62% belonged to the female subject. There were also traces of

wood and tree lichens, which Div extrapolated to indicate that the garment

had been forced into the female vagina with a branch, probably in an attempt

to remove evidence of the attack. Joyce told him it was more likely the rapist

did it just out of sadistic pleasure to inflict more pain on the girl.

Much as she didn’t want to get involved with the police, Joyce wanted to give

this information to them, so they could capture this guy, and nail him with all

this evidence. Div warned her that if she did that, there was no way she could

explain how she’d found all this, without telling them about the Guyver, and

that would create even more serious problems for her. When Joyce insisted

there must be some way they could anonymously tip off the police, Div said

he would be able to send an untraceable message to one of the Detective’s

mobile phone. He would supply this location, and some downgraded scans of

the area, highlighting the evidence, with advice to bring a forensics team with

them. The message would explain that he was a Federal investigator tracking

a suspect, he had come across a woman that had been attacked a few days

earlier, and that he had used top secret, advanced detection equipment to

locate this information. He was passing it on so as not to compromise his own

mission. Joyce agreed that it was a good plan, and asked Div to send the

message, which he did, but with a two hour delay on transmission, so they

could carry on tracking the rapist.

With the visor in place, and Div monitoring other people in the vicinity, Joyce

followed the signs of the man’s escape through the woods, each broken leaf

and branch highlighted in her display. There was also a slight blood trail, and

Div pointed out that it would appear their quarry may be injured, and the spoor

was providing positive DNA evidence that they were on track. Within the next

two hours they covered nearly ten miles, coming up on a small cabin hidden

well off the main hiking trails. The Guyver scanned the cabin, and all of the

surrounding area, reporting that there was one male inside, who appeared to

have a serious injury to an artery in his thigh, and very weak vital signs. Joyce

was torn between getting the police over here to arrest him, or just staying on

watch to see how things developed. Div told her that his analysis indicated

that the man would probably die from blood loss in the next twelve hours if he

didn’t receive medical attention, but Joyce’s big fear was that the man could

evade the charges if he got a good lawyer. There was also a nagging desire

for revenge on this man who had tormented her just a short while ago.

While Joyce was trying to decide what to do, Div Pemib ran a more detailed

scan of the cabin’s contents, then showed Joyce a hidden storage space in

which were several pieces of rope, and a large quantity of female panties.

There were DNA traces on the rope which matched the man, and some which

matched other female fluids on the underwear, though each garment seemed

to be from different individuals. This evidence would link the man with multiple

women, and the way each pair of panties was coated with female fluid would

indicate that they had been stuffed inside the vagina of each one. It was the

same method of attack they had seen at the earlier site this morning, pointing

to an extensive series of assaults by this man.

Div began to run a search of police files and news articles, finding numerous

cases of reported attacks in a fifty mile radius, and a larger number of medical

reports from girls who had visited the area and sustained similar injuries with

no assault being reported. When Joyce reviewed all the results, she was now

certain the man would be brought to justice at last, and asked Div to pass the

evidence to the police as he’d done earlier. That done, she made her way

back to her cabin, avoiding contact with anyone who might place her near to

the scene, and watched the breaking news as police arrested the murderer of

a local hiker, following information from an anonymous source. It was reported

that there was also evidence recovered of many similar incidents of attacks in

the area, which the man was likely to be charged with as well.

Joyce felt her spirits lift as it appeared that justice had indeed been served,

and decided to relax in the sun outside her cabin, looking round for her red

bikini to change into. Div complimented her on her efforts to track the man

down, and said she deserved a reward, initiating the suit to deploy in a bra

and panties configuration, with a similar satin look material to yesterday.

When Joyce sat back in a chair on her porch, soaking up the warm sun, she

felt the familiar tingle in her pussy and nipples, as the suit began to stimulate

her sexual response.

After an hour of constant, gentle stimulation, Joyce was approaching orgasm,

but being outside she wanted to put it off till she was in a more private place,

so tried to slow her response. The suit sensed her resistance, and Joyce felt

something on her wrists and ankles, looking down to see transparent strands

binding her to the chair. Slowly the stimulation of her nipples and clitoris was

stepped up, with occasional sharp stabs of intense current, almost painful on

her sensitised flesh, until she was pushed over the top. Instead of her normal

thirty seconds orgasm when she masturbated, the suit now adjusted the level

of stimulation to hold her on the peak of sexual pleasure till she almost

passed out. As she calmed down, her sensations dropping to more normal

levels, the suit began again, and Joyce pleaded to be let down or she would

pee herself. She heard Div’s voice say that could easily be fixed, and she felt

a probe being inserted into her pee hole, stretching it painfully, then another

shaft was pushed into her bottom, this one much larger and vibrating to push

her passion even higher. When she approached her next orgasm, as she had

warned, Joyce did indeed loose control of her bladder, but now she also felt

the jet of hot urine blast deep into her bottom, adding to the sexual intensity.

After another hour of sunbathing, and non stop sexual stimulation, Joyce

asked to be released so she could shower and change, as she was dripping

with sweat. When she was freshened up, Joyce felt much better, but when

she took her clean undies from her back pack, the suit activated an identical

replica of the garments, royal blue satin, with elegant pink lace trim. They

even felt soft and silky, as the Guyver adjusted the texture of the suit to match

the tactile sensations as Joyce was holding the real material in her hand, with

neural feedback mapping. The general result was impressive, but Joyce told

Div that he’d missed out the personal touch, because she couldn’t feel her

fingers through the material. Div told her to hold on, and she could feel the

inner surface of her undies shifting about, then he told her to touch herself

again. When she ran her hands over her panties this time, she could feel

pressure points activating on the inner surface, passing the pressure through,

just as if it were really her own finger. Even when she rotated round her clit,

she could actually feel it, but there was also an additional sensation she could

feel, but not place, then Div turned up the power of the electricity so it raced

through her erect clit. She had the same reaction when she caressed her bra

covered breasts, even down to having her nipples shocked till her knees gave

way, falling to the floor as she climaxed again.

Joyce had a huge smile on her face as she regained her breath, telling Div not

to do that too often, or she’d become a sex maniac. She wasn’t too sure about

his response, as Div explained that he’d analysed her sexual responses to the

reward system recently, and decided that he could safely step up her neural

output consistently by 43% with no adverse effects. There were some tests he

wanted to conduct, and asked Joyce to relocate to a less populated area for

the afternoon. Answering her questions, he explained that he needed to test

her responses during increased exertion, such as running and hill climbing,

both in her normal clothes, and with the bio-suit fully deployed. Because they

didn’t want anyone seeing her in the suit, Joyce would have to take a bus trip

halfway to the next town, then hike into the mountains where there were no

people about to observe them. If his calculations were valid, he would be able

to recharge the suit in significantly less time than originally anticipated, and

also increase the available output for other functions.

Joyce discussed a few other points with Div, especially a different location

than he’d first suggested which suited something she had in mind, and was

equally remote. She dressed in vest top, shorts, and trainers, took her purse

so she had some bus fare, which she slid into a waist pack the suit deployed

in the small of her back, then set off for the main road. As they waited at the

bus stop, Joyce checked her reflection in the glass of a notice board, admiring

the classy new sunglasses that Div had created from the suit, complimenting

him on the reproduction from a fashion website she’d had him browse. They

also had music streamed to a set of ear buds, and a heads up display inside

the lenses. Joyce flippantly said all it lacked was a mini bar, because she was

thirsty, but then a tube extended from one side and Div told her they only had

cold water at the moment, and would that do. Joyce giggled as she quenched

her thirst, saying that was good enough, then got Div to explain how he was

now condensing water out of the air around them, even though it was hot and

sunny.

There were only half a dozen people on the bus, so Joyce sat at the back, to

idle away the journey while her panties buzzed her through several orgasms,

and Div congratulated her on charging the fuel cells. Even when she wasn’t

desperately trying not to thrash about, or moan aloud in sexual abandon, the

bra and panties never turned off. There was always a background tingle and

vibration on her clitoris and nipples, and every so often she would be pinched,

or stabbed with something sharp, so it almost made her jump.

When she asked for her stop, it was miles away from anywhere, and Joyce

assured the bus driver that she had arranged for a truck to pick her up, and

her driver was on his way. She waved as he drove away, sitting on a log next

to the stop till the bus turned out of sight, listening to Div report on the nearest

people being thirty miles away in the opposite direction to which they were

going, and well over fifty miles the other side of their destination.

After walking briskly for ten minutes to warm up, then doing some stretches,

Joyce began running along the trail at a steady pace, feeling her panties start

buzzing more insistently round her clit. Div’s voice in her ear was encouraging

as he reported her power output stepping up as expected, guiding her through

an increase in pace every few minutes, with added sexual stimulation as well.

She could feel her love button actually sticking out from her slit, the petals

now slippery with her girl juice, a small probe entered slowly into her cunt, a

second easing into her bottom as she ran, each footfall making them thrust

and twist inside her.

On her heads up display a bright green target point appeared on a tree about

200 yards in front, the voice in her ear urging her to chase it down, at which

point it shifted to another, more distant point, and Joyce could feel her speed

increase as her target changed. She could feel her adrenaline pumping along

her veins as if she was in a race, her heart rate increasing, though not as

much as she would have expected when running this hard. Constant advice

and encouragement was being fed through her ear piece, she was doing well,

focus on her style, see the current target draw nearer with every step.

She’d been watching the timer on the heads up approach 30 minutes, the

point they’d agreed on for the first stage of the tests that the Guyver wanted,

and she pushed even harder as she approached the final marker 30 seconds

in front. As with most runners, her first concern was her stats, and while she

was amazed to see she’d almost doubled her pace overall, having covered

nearly 6 miles, she was astounded that her breathing was as if she’d been on

a regular training run. As she watched her heart rate display drop back to near

normal in less than a minute, she quizzed Div about what was happening, and

he explained that some of the early modifications he’d done when he had first

merged with her were taking effect. The efficiency increase in her body’s

basic repair capability had now rectified all of the minor damage caused by

the exertions of this trip, and also those inflicted by her previous overwork in

her job, as well as the lack of sleep due to her overall lifestyle.

When she challenged him that it should be impossible to improve her heart

and lung capacities in such a short time, he reminded her that during the last

few days the reward system had been pushing her pulse and breathing well

above her normal peaks. Instead of the usual 3 or 4 orgasms a week she had

been used to enjoying, the suit was now stimulating her to at least six every

night, each climax of much longer duration, and higher intensity. She’d also

noticed that she’d been sexually aroused more often during the day, and Div

confirmed that he’d been applying stimulation constantly to her erogenous

zones at just below the level of conscious awareness.

Changes to her digestive system, while relatively minor, had resulted in great

improvements in the levels of energy she was able to extract from her food,

while similar enhancements to her body’s distribution systems also gave her

greater levels of efficient energy storage and availability. When prompted to

review her recent meals, Joyce admitted that they were smaller than she

normally enjoyed on vacation, and she’d noticed that the tiredness that had

been building up for the last several months did seem to have gone away.

Although she wasn’t keen on the way Div talked about her as if she was just a

machine in the repair shop, she did concede that he had a very valid point,

and admitted that her body felt much better than she could ever remember it

being. She was even sleeping more deeply, and waking up feeling much more

refreshed than was her habit. The Guyver unit was designed to assist its host

to achieve, and maintain, optimum efficiency Div explained, and he had lots of

experience improving some pretty sad specimens over his lifetime. Joyce was

quite pleased when he added that she was by far the most promising species

he’d encountered, not just in her current condition, but also from the potential

he could detect in all areas of her body, and her intellect.

Their next test was an uphill section of trail to the right, and as Joyce charged

up the incline there seemed to be no more difficulty than the previous level

portion had caused her. Checking the heads up display confirmed that her

pace was only marginally slower, and she could feel herself expending vastly

more energy as not only her legs, but seemingly her whole body was bent

towards propelling herself upward. She could feel the adrenaline again course

through her body, the endorphins removing any signs of fatigue, and intense

surges of sexual energy cascading through her pussy, deep into her stomach

and throughout her breasts. Her nipples and clit were throbbing on the very

edge of orgasm, but her pleasure systems maintained their peak, refusing to

tip over into the decline of post orgasmic bliss. Despite having held this crest

for over twenty minutes there was no sign of frustration, and the energy which

now channelled into the rest of her body was actually palpable.

Stopping when she reached the next plateau, Joyce was pleased that she

was once again only mildly out of breath, though her heart rate was still high,

and the sexual stimulation from the suit hadn’t dropped back to background

levels. In fact, she was beginning feel an orgasm taking control between her

legs, the erotic spasms distracting her from Div’s praise over another useful

set of test results, and her contribution of such a good effort. When the small

electric shocks began to stab at her erect clitoral shaft and throbbing nipples,

she realised that it wasn’t her lack of control bringing on her climax, it was the

suit initiating a reward protocol.

The stimulation ramped up so fast that all Joyce could do was grab her crotch

and one of her tingling breasts, then drop to the ground as her legs gave way,

writhing on the leafy forest floor as the dildo anchor points came into play.

She lost count of her orgasms at six, but the crashing waves of pleasure just

washed over her for what seemed hours, moving from her wet pussy to her

soft breasts, then on to her bottom, where the suit’s dildo thrust its swelling

girth deep inside her body.

When Joyce regained her senses, yet still tingling all over, the Guyver unit

informed her that he had induced twenty three orgasms in her, and it had

taken 47.385 minutes. The most interesting datum had been that physical

energy output had been 53 percent higher than any session he’d previously

recorded, and her peak neural energy had been 78 percent improved, which

was something that he wanted to study further.

Now that Div’s initial investigations were complete, Joyce wanted to head

towards an abandoned gold mine she’d researched on the internet, which was

only a few miles from where she was now. The mine had produced a quite

considerable profit for many years, but had eventually run out of productive

ore, and closed down. There had been a dozen other, much smaller mines,

close by, but they had only lasted a few years, and had all been filled in for

safety reasons. The mine Joyce was so interested in just now had been in the

hands of many different owners, but was last worked over 50 years ago. It

hadn’t been profitable at that time either, and was more of a hobby for the

owner, but it had been left to his family when he died. There was no further

record of anyone visiting the property, and no state taxes had been paid since

the owner died, so Joyce was assuming that it had been forgotten about.

The trail she was on had a side road shown on an old map at exactly this

point, yet there was nothing to be seen but thick brush for nearly 400 yards on

the side where the road was supposed to be. There were 3 or 4 wide animal

paths on the other side of the trail, but an impenetrable wall on this side, with

no sign of any access.

Realising she could search for ever, and still not discover the hidden trail,

Joyce said “Visor on”, feeling the suit wrap around her face as the sunglasses

changed into the fully functional instrumentation device she now needed.

Turning to study the trail she was stood on, Joyce asked the visor to identify

any human tracks, watching the display bring up several sets of footprints, two

going uphill, and seven going down. All nine sets were from different people,

the most recent being three sets that had gone downhill five years ago, a

man, woman, and a teenage boy, judging from pressure patterns and length

of stride. The layers of leaf fall over the remaining sets of footprints indicated

they were made eight, eleven, and fifteen years ago, then it became too hard

to identify further detail. This was definitely an isolated trail, and the chance of

being disturbed by passing strangers was negligible, making this place ideal

for both of their requirements.

Joyce turned towards the brush where the small side road was supposed to

be, scanning for any signs of a gap, then asked Div to help her find it, at which

point he took control, and Joyce just followed the target spot as he moved it

round. She saw the image of the brush disappear as the range increased, her

viewpoint moving into taller trees, with less undergrowth, but still seeing no

sign of a road. Div asked her to move off the trail in the opposite direction, so

they could climb a tree to gain some height perspective, and Joyce squeezed

down one of the animal tracks, to a tall pine that he indicated.

There were no branches on the lower section to help her grip the cylindrical

trunk, but she felt the full suit begin to deploy, and she was soon full armoured

and able to use the Guyver’s resources. The gloves modified shape to have

small spikes on the palms, and bear like claws on the fingers, while the inside

edges of the shoes grew longer spikes, somewhat like those lumberjack tree

climbing spikes. Within no time at all, Joyce was thirty foot in the air, looking

over the wall of bushes, and into the forest as it climbed another rise, but the

expected road was still missing. As she scanned the landscape to either side,

the Guyver began placing lighted spots on some of the smaller trees, until an

obvious concentration began to appear, and he finally drew a winding line on

the display.

About twenty yards back down the trail, the line started at the dense brush,

then led off through the forest, and round a curve in the hillside. Joyce could

see no way through the thick brush without backtracking a long way, asking

Div if there was a way round, at which point he lit up two large oak trees just

this side of where the two trails joined. When Joyce acknowledged that she’d

seen them, Div went on to mark out an animal trail that led past them, then a

green line going up one trunk, along a thick limb that spanned the main trail,

across to a limb on the other tree, then down the second trunk to the ground.

The Guyver explained that this elevated route would leave very little trace of

their passing, and anyone going along the main trail would miss it completely.

Joyce climbed down the pine tree, then took the indicated route to the other

side of the brush wall, looking back in amazement that the main trail was now

completely invisible. Examining the remains of the small side road she’d been

looking for, ignoring the smaller trees, she could just see where meandered

through the forest. She turned the suit off, since this would be just a walk in

the woods, for which shorts and a top were more comfortable, refitted her sun

glasses, then followed the road.

She lost the trail a couple of times, but Div was monitoring her progress, and

a green line would show on the heads up display to guide her back on track

without anything being said. After an hour’s walking, she came into a grassy

clearing at the bottom end of a shallow valley, with a cliff face on one side,

and the dense forest on the other. 500 yards up the valley stood a house and

a few outbuildings, and there was a small stream trickling down the forest side

of the valley. Joyce made her way up to the house, which was locked and

shuttered, looking quite sturdy considering it had been deserted for so many

years.

Over by the cliff face was the mine entrance, a few small bushes flanking the

heavy iron gate which was securely locked with a padlock on a large chain

that ran through a hole drilled into the rock. Joyce inspected the lock, there

was no way it was coming off without a key, or some power tools, or dynamite

to blow it up, so she wasn’t going to get inside and realise her dream. That

didn’t mean she couldn’t run the test she’d been thinking about ever since

she’d found out what this strange Guyver unit was capable of.

“Visor on”, Joyce commanded, now totally at ease with an alien bio-suit that

was wrapping round her head, and the high tech display that replaced her

normal vision. “Scan for Gold, surface depth only, range 30 feet,” the request

rolled off her tongue as if she were ordering a McDonald’s, but her eyes were

glued to the spectrograph display as she slowly turned full circle. And there

was - nothing! OK, nothing lying on the ground for her to pick up. “I should be

so damn lucky”, she thought.

“Same scan,” she continued, “depth four inches.” If there was any gold laid

about for the last fifty years, it was probably covered in grass and leaves, and

it might take a bit more finding, but Joyce wasn’t in any hurry, so she would be

patient and methodical. Nothing turned up in this scan either, and Joyce was

going to adjust the depth again, when she considered how many she would

have to do before she found something, or else gave up. Part of the problem

was that she didn’t know enough about the capabilities of the Guyver, and at

the moment she was treating it like a high tech metal detector you see at the

beach.

What Joyce needed was an expert. “Div,” she said, “how easy would it be to

scan this area for gold deposits?” The voice in her ear asked how large an

area she wanted to cover, and remembering the limitations on the first scan

she’d done back at the cabin, she asked if 500 yards in all directions would be

possible.

“The valley floor will be no problem,” Div replied, “to the tree line, soil depth 48

feet to bedrock. The cliff face is much denser, so will be limited to 120 yards,

but I’m detecting a mine shaft that will take us quite a distance into the hill.

Overall penetration is unclear at this point.”

This was sounding much better to Joyce, “OK Div, initiate scan,” she said, and

began turn her head to cover the full circle that the Guyver had indicated.

After less than a minute, a rising red bar reached the top of the display, and

everything froze on the screen. Div told her they were losing too much data on

the results feed, and the remaining information was insufficient to complete an

analysis. The problem was down to the amount of ground being covered at

this rotational speed, but he didn’t think Joyce had enough fine motor control

to move slow enough for what she had requested.

“Initial estimates indicate it will take six hours to complete the scan,” Div told

her, “but the unit will have to remain stationary. The second option would be a

random background scan while you continue your exploration of the area, with

summary results displayed on request.”

Joyce considered the options, confirming with Div that the full scan could be

performed overnight, while she slept, and asked him to run the background

scan for now. The visor withdrew from Joyce’s face, but Div told her a small

instrument pack would be deployed between her shoulders to take all the

necessary readings. It was reasonably comfortable once in place, and since it

was mid-day, Joyce walked over to the house to sit in the shade and eat lunch

while she rested. It was just a high energy cereal bar, washed down with the

water her suit provided, but it satisfied her need to eat, even though she was

not particularly hungry considering the amount of energy she had expended

this morning.

Having finished, Joyce took a closer look at the house, although it was more

of a wooden shack, with rough finished joints at the corners, and wide gaps

between the logs of the walls. Div confirmed her assumption that these had

been sealed with mud at one point, but it had weathered away over the years

of neglect. The roof still appeared to be watertight, due to grass and moss that

had bound the mud in the spaces, and the inside structures showed limited

signs of deterioration.

Joyce tried the door, but it was locked, and when she said it was a shame she

couldn’t take a look inside, the suit glove formed on her hand so that when

she took hold of the handle again, the lock mechanism drew back. Cautiously

walking through the open door, Joyce looked round the main room. A table

and two chairs stood to one side, a cupboard with a metal bowl on top stood

under one of the shuttered windows beside her, and a fireplace sat on the end

wall in the middle of a stone chimney. There was a large armchair beside the

fireplace, with a selection of blankets and furs draped over it, while a small

side table held a tin cup and a book. Joyce picked up the book, finding it was

the journal of the previous owner, hand written in pencil, with notes about the

life in this secluded valley, working the mine, hunting, and growing food to live

on.

Putting the book down for later, Joyce went through an inner door to a small

separate bedroom, which held a double bed, neatly laid with extremely dusty

blankets and pillows, two side tables with candlesticks, and a dresser, Behind

the door, on the wall, was a coat rack that held a jacket, overcoat, and a hat,

all looking to be in good condition, though under a thick layer of dust. Opening

the dresser drawers revealed several changes of male clothing all clean and

folded in the way she remembered her Dad doing it. The bottom drawer held

a woman’s clothes, mostly plain everyday outfits, with one set of a delicate,

pretty material, topped by silk panties and bodice, like Grandma would wear.

Rather than being roughly folded, all the clothes in this drawer had obviously

been ironed, with sharp creases pressed in them, and there were two muslin

bags that still smelled faintly of the lavender sprigs inside them, even after all

this time.

There was a second door off the main room, which revealed another bedroom

of slightly smaller dimensions, with a narrower three quarter size bed, only

one side table with a candlestick, and a tall chest of drawers with a mirror sat

on top. The drawers were mostly empty, a wooden hairbrush in the top one, a

warm cardigan in the bottom, and underneath the cardigan she discovered a

surprise. It was a broad strap of stiff leather, attached to a wooden handle,

and obviously intended to spank someone’s bottom, which made Joyce think

about who got punished at this farm, and how long ago.

Joyce’s foot caught on something under the bed as she walked back out of

the room, and she bent to find a white china chamber pot, hand painted with

dozens of different flowers. Studying the exquisite workmanship, Joyce could

imagine the lady of the house sitting by candle light in the winter, painting the

blooms that now lay under the snow. She thought how nice it must be to have

enough time to decorate a plain pot, just so she could have something pretty

to pee in. The problem with this train of thought was that it highlighted her own

needs, the water she’d been drinking earlier having now worked its way into

her bladder.

Placing the chamber pot on the floor, Joyce unfastened her shorts and took

them down, seeing in her mind that other woman also sharing her needs, on

her own in the house. Instead of just squatting, Joyce removed her shorts and

asked Div to de-res her panties, leaving her naked below the waist as she sat

down on the pot, its cool china smooth against the soft skin. Gently, she let

her muscles relax, allowing the warm liquid to exit her body, trickling over her

inner lips, to softly fall onto the delicate china. When the flow had finished, she

sat a little longer, till the last drops had fallen, quietly contemplating the sweet

sensations of relief, the slight breeze drifting through the wall, and across her

damp vulva. This was a much more sensual way to be dried than a quick wipe

with tissue, followed by a mad dash to the next desperately urgent task which

demanded her attention.

Having completed her leisurely toilet, Joyce wondered what to do with the pot.

Did they just throw it out of the window, or was there a proper toilet nearby

she hadn’t noticed. Picking up the chamber pot, she walked back into the

main room with it, confirming her original impression that there were only the

two rooms, so she went outside, feeling the warm breeze across her bare

pussy. Walking towards the top of the valley, she found the wooden Privy off

to one side, about twenty feet away, the typical crescent cut in the centre of

the door, and the half circle at the bottom to put your foot through so people

would know it was occupied. This was so cool, Joyce thought, having a real

museum piece in her backyard, although she did admit that this wasn’t really

her property, but if things worked out as she hoped, she might just buy it.

The door catch opened surprisingly easily for such a simple device, being

merely two pieces of hinged wood that locked against each other, and the

large hinges swung back with hardly a creak of protest. Inside was a bench

seat with a bottom sized hole in the middle, over a six foot deep pit that was

too dark to see down, but had no unpleasant odours. Joyce emptied her pee

pot through the hole, then looked round the small enclosure, putting the china

container on one end of the bench, and settled her bare bottom over the hole.

It was very comfortable, the edge having been smoothed to a nice curve, and

as she wiggled her rear end, Joyce wondered if the chamfer was the result of

a carpenter’s skill, or the multitude of bottoms that had settled here over time.

Although she felt no urge to use these facilities at the moment, Joyce had no

idea how she would clean herself if she did move her bowels, after all, the

nearest toilet tissue was probably fifty miles away. So how did the miner and

his wife cope without necessities of life that everyone now took for granted.

Taking time to inspect the privy in more detail, she found a small wooden pot

tucked in the corner, on the floor, which she picked up, and found a small mop

inside. It reminded her of Grandma’s dish mop, but after a few moments of

thought, guessed that it wasn’t for washing dishes. The pot would have been

filled with clean water each day, and the wet mop used to wash between the

persons legs. It made her pussy tingle to imagine rubbing a wet mop along

her slit, out here, almost in the open.

Putting the utensil back where she found it, Joyce took the chamber pot back

towards the house, noticing a small bird washing itself in a puddle at the end

of a water trough that was being fed by a trickle of water from an old iron pipe.

Hung on the outside of the almost full trough was a metal ladle that could be

used as a cup, or at this moment to scoop some water for washing out her

dirty chamber pot. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction that such simple

provisions would enable a person to maintain as good a level of hygiene as all

the complex plumbing she had in her apartment. Three scoops and rinses,

along with pouring the liquid out on the ground, had the china shining like a

new pin, and not the slightest trace of odour.

After returning the chamber pot to its place beneath the bed, Joyce returned

to the privy, (she so loved that word), and set about cleaning up the small

mop and bucket. With the strips of material on the mop end now softened,

and the tub full of clean water, she returned them to their proper place, but

couldn’t resist trying out this new experience. Lifting it onto the bench beside

her, she raised the mop, allowing the excess water to drain, then laid it on her

shaven slit, shivering at the cold wet touch. It was surprising how efficient this

device was, after rubbing up and down a few times, she twirled the mop in her

slit, spreading it open to allow the damp material to caress her sensitive inner

tissue. When it played gently across her clit, it was already erect, tingling in

anticipation, as she could feel her orgasm building. As she moved her grip on

the handle, Joyce realised that it wasn’t just a plain piece of wood, but was

shaped and smoothed, the end gently rounded, with a groove near the end.

As she continued to pleasure the length of her hungry pussy, she noticed that

the handle felt somewhat like a prick, on the small side, but definitely phallic in

shape.

Within minutes the handle was turned round, entering her dripping love hole,

eased in to the full depth as it rubbed across her cervix, then twisted forward

against her swollen, tender g-spot as she humped the mop in the throes of a

massive climax. With her sexual passions satisfied for a while, Joyce decided

to continue looking round the place, leaving the small cubicle with a thrill as a

warm breeze flowed round her naked hips.

She walked over to a large three sided outbuilding of the same construction

as the house, finding it filled with mining machinery. Joyce had read up on

small mining operations as part of her college course, turning in a very good

paper that earned her some good marks, so she recognised some of the old

equipment. There was a large Jaw Crusher for bigger rocks, and a smaller

Jaw Crusher for second stage material, which were belt driven, and when she

followed the drive shaft out of the back, it was powered by a waterwheel. It

wasn’t running at the moment, but she could see that the large iron pipe still

carried some water, it was just diverted to the tail race, and back to the stream

she’d seen earlier on the forest side of the valley. There was also smaller pipe

coming from the main flow, which Joyce could see headed over towards the

water trough. The valve looked to still be in good condition, and it turned a

little way when she tried it, the water swirling noisily in the upstand, till after a

few minutes there was a trickle coming out of the flume, and running onto the

wheel. Joyce wasn’t ready to try running any machinery yet, so she closed the

valve back down to where it had originally been.

Returning to the outbuilding, she found a couple of 18 mesh screens, noted

by a label on the side, and also a small shaking table to separate the fine grit

at the end of the process. Joyce asked Div to run a gold scan of the building,

and after a few minutes, the visor came on, highlighting small traces on most

of the machinery, and one slightly larger one near the large jaw crusher.

Joyce followed the image to half a dozen pieces of ore that hadn’t been under

the crusher yet, sorting through the ones with faint streaks through them, till

she came to the one with the more intense image. Placing it on an anvil, she

picked up a hammer, and slowly chipped away the quartz to reveal a half inch

square piece of gold, with only a tiny piece of quartz inside one end.

Joyce stared at the gold in her hand, heart racing as her long held dream was

finally realised, and she was able to detect gold with pinpoint accuracy, and

also have it valued. Through the earpiece, Div estimated the weight of the

gold piece as 4.375 grams, with a purity of 18 carat, which at today’s price of

$32 per gram would be worth $140. He added that the other pieces of ore had

a total gold content after processing of at least $100.

Going over to the far end of the building, Joyce looked over a set of about a

dozen crucibles, made of Graphite carbon according to Div, set out on a wide

wooden bench next to a brick furnace that had a tall stone chimney. She now

watched as the visor scanned the furnace, displaying a double brick skin, with

an insulating air break, and a rotary fan driven from the waterwheel. Div said it

would easily be capable of achieving temperatures around 2000 degrees with

the hardwood he’d scanned in the fuel bin beside it, which was adequate for

melting gold at 1650F. There were also several tubs of cleaning flux, made

from borax and sodium carbonate, and much larger containers of each over

by the other wall.

There was another bench further along, with several sand boxes, and the

equipment for making small melds to cast the molten gold into bars. Two

varnished wooden patterns sat on a shelf, embossed on the top surface as

10oz and 5oz, and the words “Still Valley”, which Joyce knew was the name

of the mine. Div pointed out that 5 ounce melds make an ingot worth $5,600,

and if they were produced fairly often, this could be a profitable venture for

someone who liked hard work and solitude. The whole setup was completely

self-contained for mining, and the only thing lacking was any sort of nearby

store.

Joyce wanted to see where the water for the wheel came from, so she set off

to walk further up the valley, heading towards a stand of trees that blocked

her view from this position. The afternoon sun was hot on her back, so she

took her shirt off, feeling the tingle of UV rays tanning her skin, except where

the instrument pack was, between her shoulders, so she asked Div to locate it

somewhere else. She felt the pack dissolve, leaving just a thin thread down

her spine, but then an anchor point began to squeeze through her anus, and

the other one slid along her wet slit, and into her pussy.

“That wasn’t what I meant Div,” she scolded the Guyver unit, “and they’re too

big to go up there.” The stretching was actually turning her on, but that wasn’t

the point, it was the surprise penetration that had shocked her, even though it

was easing off a bit now. She felt the tingle of electricity on her nipples first, as

the reward system started up, and then her stiff clitoris was hit with a surge of

power, and each step switched location till Joyce had almost cum.

Walking round since lunch with no panties had been steadily increasing her

sex levels, but she didn’t want to be that distracted for now, yet another round

of electric shocks almost pushed her over the top. “That’s not fair,” she cried,

“I don’t want to cum just yet, I’ll play later this evening. Now stop it.”

“I beg to differ, Joyce,” the Guyver responded, “but your body signals display

a quite intense need for an immediate sexual release. Also, you have ample

internal capacity to house the instrumentation. Your entrance could readily

expand to this size.” Joyce gasped as her bottom was suddenly stretched by

the probe, almost tearing, she thought, but still immensely erotic. The dildo in

her pussy hit the top wall, yet continued to grow, pressing right up into her

tummy, then expanding to push out a visible lump below her navel.

Joyce decided to ignore all the stimulation the Guyver was setting up in her

most erogenous places, and kept walking despite the writhing snake working

deeper up her colon, or its random swelling to painful proportions. By the time

she reached the trees she had to hang on to a branch for some support as the

Guyver pushed her to six successive orgasms before the internal swelling let

up somewhat.

When she returned to full awareness, Joyce noticed that the trees were laden

with apples, and when she tasted one, it was very sweet and juicy. There was

also a couple of pear trees, a plum tree, and a row planted with different types

of berries. Going through a gap in the bushes revealed that this area had at

one time been under cultivation, and Joyce recognised carrot tops, potatoes,

maize, and tomatoes. There were another six or so different plants that she

had no idea about, but assumed they were edible, and this was the kitchen

garden, even if it was a bit overgrown. If she stayed here for a while, to take

enough time to check the place out properly, she would have plenty of fruit

and vegetables to eat, and there was an ample water supply. She didn’t know

if the water was fit to drink, but if it had been plumbed in to a trough, then she

expected it would have been. There was a chance it could have been polluted

in recent years, but when she asked Div to run an analysis, he reported it to

be clear of any contaminants.

When Joyce had eaten her apple, she pulled a carrot from the ground, finding

the soil dark and moist, with a fibrous texture, matching what she’d read about

the fertile areas in this part of the country. She wiped the soil from the carrot

with a clump of grass, broke off the end, and then bit into it, tasting the best

flavour she’d ever experienced in this particular vegetable. If all the food was

this good, then there would be very little she would need from a store by way

of sustenance. As she walked through the garden, Joyce discussed with Div

the probable lifestyle that the previous owners of this small mine would have

had, considering what they’d found so far, and he agreed that they would

have to be self-sufficient. The remote location meant that any supplies would

have needed bringing in on foot, the large equipment would have been

delivered by pack horse, and everything else appeared to have been

manufactured from the local materials.

As they reached the end of the cultivated area, the Guyver pointed out that

there seemed to be a second mine entrance 400 yards up the steep hill on the

right, also sealed with a locked iron gate. Joyce walked over to it, finding that

a small path had been cut into the hillside, reaching the twenty feet from the

grass to the gate, to provide a more comfortable access. Div deployed the

visor and scanned the interior, since there was only a short tunnel visible from

the gate, which curved off out of sight. The display showed very small traces

of gold in the wall, where a vein had been mined till it exited where Joyce now

stood. Div confirmed that tool marks on the wall showed it been worked up the

hill from the lower entrance, and the breakout pattern around the gate backed

this up. A short way down the tunnel was a branch through plain rock, bearing

no sign of any ore, and when the Guyver pushed the scan deeper, this branch

joined the lower tunnel much further in, probably as an escape route.

Div drew Joyce’s attention to the scan’s traces along the bottom edges of the

worked tunnel, pointing out the small deposits of gold mixed in with the debris

at the join, some of which was rock, and some of it leaves that had blown in

and settled over time. While the amounts weren’t significant on face value,

and would be extremely difficult to see by eye, Div estimated that if the floor

was efficiently swept with a broom, it would harvest over 3 kilos of gold, with a

value of $100,000, and very little effort.

Joyce said they would review the possibilities later, when they had completed

an initial survey, but she still had the water feed to check out, so she followed

the iron pipe again. It ran along the side of the hill, just into the grass, resting

on stone supports every couple of yards that kept it a foot off the ground, and

Joyce recognised that this would keep it out of the damp. With the air flow

circulating round it, there was very little chance the pipe would rust, meaning it

would last for many more years to come. After about 500 yards, the pipe took

a turn across the bottom of a rise for about three quarters of the way across

the valley, before turning up the slope. Further along, Joyce could see the tiny

stream cascading over a rock outcrop into a small pool, and when she went

over, there were rough stone steps set into the grassy slope, providing sure

footing to reach the top.

On the higher ground was a large pond, with a three foot high embankment

separating it from the top edge of the rise, and the metal pipe coming out of a

stone structure constructed at the far side. Joyce examined the structure to

find a very strong penstock, with the sluice set at about an inch, allowing just

a trickle of water to feed into the pipe, which she realised would keep the

trough by the house topped up with fresh water all the time. The gates on the

sluice were made of one inch and two inch stone strips, allowing quite a fine

adjustment, and there were several spares stacked in an inset into the side of

the penstock. The mill pond looked to be about a hundred yards by fifty, and

with the penstock adjustable to about three feet depth, it held a lot of water,

approximately 850,000 gallons Div told her. This would run the mill for quite a

long time.

Joyce walked round the pond, finding its inlet on the far corner, where a sluice

gate fed by a four inch clay pipe from the stream, ran water into the pond, and

a similar setup drained it from the lower end, back into the stream, just above

the waterfall. Div admired the simplicity of the system, and Joyce agreed.

Looking round this higher area, the opposite corner to the pond seemed to be

hedged in, from the hill line, over to the tree line, with a double pole gate at

the near corner. When she walked over to it, Joyce could see it was hawthorn,

expertly laid with hazel poles and binders, but didn’t seem to have been

maintained for a good number of years. It did, however, still provide a very

efficient barrier for the half dozen cattle she could see grazing within the

enclosure. Several of them came over when they saw her at the gate, and

they seemed very friendly, as if they were used to people being there, sniffing

and licking her hand, but returning to grazing when Joyce had no food to offer.

There was a 60 feet square shelter, with a sloped roof, and a wide doorway to

the field side, built under the first line of trees, where it was well protected

from the weather. Joyce climbed over the gate, that being easier than taking

the poles out, which were deeply notched, and heavy enough to resist any

cow’s effort to escape. She sat astride the top rail for a while, checking out the

pasture, but had a problem when the suit re-configured to bind her hands and

feet in place when she’d humped her pussy against the top pole. The position

was slightly uncomfortable, but Div wouldn’t release her till she’d humped

herself to a climax, despite her protests, which he countered with her obvious

need for release, again.

When Joyce told him off for being mean to her, he remodelled the bra to bind

tightly round the base of her breasts, wrapped a band across her nipples, with

spikes pressing into the teats, and then zapped her clitoris till she collapsed in

the throes of another orgasm. Eventually Joyce had to concede he’d been

right about her sexual needs, and apologised to him, so he removed the tight

bra altogether, leaving her now completely naked in the middle of a field.

Paying no heed to her, the small cattle carried on eating, while Div provided

details of the herd.

They were brown Dexter cows, with a milk yield of 1 to 2 gallons a day, being

a smaller breed, yielding 400 lbs of tasty lean meat, and a perfect small-farm

cow. They had good strength, and could be trained to pull things, birthing

without assistance, good longevity, able to keep calving/milking for up to 15

years. There were smaller fat globules in the milk, making it easier to digest,

good mothers that were willing to nurse 2-3 calves from other cows, standing

just 36 to 44 inches at the shoulder. From the pasture, they’d need 1 to 2

acres to feed each cow, about 100x100 yards, and this enclosure was round

about 5 acres of good quality grass, so it was just sufficient. They weren’t

being milked, since the farm was abandoned, so it would be another two or

three years before the herd outgrew their resources. The most important item

was water, which came from a small rivulet running down the rock face at the

far side of the field. Although the flow was small, someone had channelled it

down a crevice, along several dips in the rock floor, and then excavated a

deep depression into the solid rock that would hold at least fifteen gallons.

The run off spilled onto the grass where the rock went underground, and she

was surprised the ground wasn’t much softer at the edge. The Guyver used

the visor to scan the area, displaying the results on screen where a three foot

soak away of rough rocks, sat on a yard square stone slab reached up to

within nine inches of the surface. The water collected amongst the stones,

before draining into a system of porous clay irrigation pipes, two foot down,

that fanned out beneath the whole field. There were very few places that were

dry at that depth, so the grass would be constantly watered with the minimum

of intervention.

The owners probably took the cattle to the lower field on occasion, to ease the

feeding load on the enclosure, while the kitchen garden would provide fodder

from the excess corn, and even the stalks could be saved for winter feed.

There were also mangles, turnips and other root crops, cabbage and winter

squash, all of which can be stored and fed to cows in winter, as there seemed

to be way too much for a family of two or three to consume. The cattle would

eat any excess produce from the garden, or the orchard, just as long as the

bits are large enough that they have to be chewed. Going over to the shelter,

Joyce found that the end nearest to the hill had been sectioned off to store the

fodder, about ten feet deep and sixty feet long, with a full height door, closed

by a secure latch. Inside, it was stacked with hay in one half, and wooden

crates filled with the root crops from the garden in the other side, reaching up

three quarters to the ceiling, and everything bone dry. It was also cool, despite

the hot sun outside, being partly shaded by the trees, and the south wall being

double skinned.

There was a large turnip cutter against the inner wall, hand driven, with a side

chute into a wheelbarrow that was parked next to it, and when she spun the

handle round, Joyce could easily see how the machine functioned. Setting it

open, she placed a swede in the hopper, wound the handle, and a geared

crank lowered a top plate that forced the vegetable through a set of parallel

blades. When it reached the bottom, the plate was lifted up again, and inch

thick slices of swede dropped into the barrow, releasing the fragrance of the

root’s juices. By the time she’d put six swedes through the cutter, and they’d

all dropped into the wheelbarrow, the cattle were gathering round the door, no

doubt attracted by a long missed treat. Joyce pushed them out of the way so

she could get out and close the door, then wheeled the fodder to a trough on

the side of the shelter, scooping the slices and spreading them the full length

so all the cattle could get a share. They seemed very appreciative as they

stood munching a change of diet they’d not had chance to enjoy for a long

time. Satisfied with the task she’s accomplished, Joyce put everything back in

its proper place, cleaned the cutter with a brush hung on the wall, and latched

the door behind her.

It was late afternoon, so Joyce headed back towards the house, intending to

get something to eat before exploring the small home in more detail, and as

they were walking, Div asked what had prompted her to come here. He knew

he’d wanted a remote location, but Joyce had been very specific about this

being where she wanted to be, and she’d already known exactly where it was,

so she explained it to him.

Joyce had picked this location because she wanted to test her theory about

using the Guyver to locate residual gold in a worked out mine, one that could

be bought for a low price.

She’d first come across it in a newspaper article, returned from a Google

search as part of her college project on homestead lifecycles, where it was

listed for foreclosure due to unpaid taxes. She’d followed the link on a hunch,

discovering that the property taxes hadn’t been paid in fifty years, but it turned

out that it had come under the homestead exemption laws for providing the

surviving spouse with shelter. The law provides an exemption from property

taxes which can be applied to a home, and the protection is automatic. In this

area, exemption protects 160 acres of land of any value outside of a

municipality's corporate limits, and this place definitely was outside those

limits.

The 160 acres was a quarter section, usually 800yds x 800yds, giving

774,400 sq yds, of public land that had been divided up in the late 1800’s to

be sold as a family homestead, and to earn money for the government. The

Homestead Acts had few qualifying requirements. A homesteader had to be

the head of the household or at least twenty-one years old. They had to live

on the designated land, build a home, make improvements, and farm it for a

minimum of five years, and the filing fee was eighteen dollars. After the five

years, the homesteader could obtain a deed to the land giving him fee simple

rights for all time. The deeds for this quarter section were issued in 1913, one

of over 400,000 during that ten year period, which had been the most prolific

for the granting of full homestead titles.

When she did her research Joyce couldn’t understand why someone who had

worked a piece of land for over a hundred years could allow it to be taken

away from them for such a small tax debt of less than $500.

Joyce detoured into the garden as they passed, getting some fruit, a pear and

a plum, both picked from the top of the trees, where the sun had ripened them

before the lower ones. The Guyver kindly supplied a harvesting tool consisting

of a pair of sharp blades, with a basket underneath them to catch the fruit, the

whole thing mounted on a long handle that the suit grew from the back of her

wrist. It even contracted to bring the fruit back in reach, and then produced a

pouch attached to a waist band to put them in. Joyce asked for another pouch

to put some berries in, which the suit extended from the middle of the belt so it

rested on her pubic mound. As she walked down the row of bushes, picking

ripe fruit, the pouch rolled from side to side across her mons, which she knew

it didn’t have to, since Div could easily have secured it with side straps, but

she didn’t say anything since it was actually quite stimulating.

After collecting enough for her meal, she turned towards the house, the berry

pouch rolling about a bit more as her stride increased, and when she asked

Div to secure it, he extended two clamps from the lower end, and made them

grip her labia. When he shortened them, her outer lips lifted up, and then two

more straps extended from her hips to just above the clamps, tightening to

pull her lips apart and spread her slit open. Joyce could feel the warm breeze

play along the inner surface of her groove, and across her clit, hardening it.

When she reached the house, Joyce sat on a long bench on the front porch,

looking out over the meadow as she ate the delicious fruit, enjoying the clean

taste of every mouthful. In between bites, she discussed the possibility of Div

researching the ownership history of the farm, to find any clues as to what had

brought it to this state of disrepair. In the meantime, she was going to do a bit

of cleaning to make the place more habitable if she was going to stay on for a

few days.

She brought out the bedding and chair covers first, hanging them over the

porch rail so she could whack the dust out of them with a carpet beater that

had been hung on the outside wall. The next task was to fetch water from the

trough to wash down the table and chairs, so she’d be able to sit and eat in a

civilised fashion, without getting filthy in the process. After a couple of hours

the place looked very much improved, though there was still a lot to be done,

but that could wait till she came back for a longer stay. Joyce had been quite

surprised at the thought, since she hadn’t made a conscious decision to even

come back here, let alone stay, but she admitted to herself that there was

something very appealing about the place. She already had a cabin booked at

the campsite till the end of the week, and she’d let reception know she’d be

away for a few days, hiking the local trails a bit further away, but she’d have to

return before someone missed her.

She opened a tall cupboard she’d not looked in earlier, and found it full of

glass jars and bottles on the sturdy shelves, most of the containers filled with

various fruits, pickles, and preserves. There were even a dozen jars of honey.

The labels identified a lot of produce she’d seen in the garden, and they were

dated between five to seven years ago. She asked Div to scan the food for a

possible health hazard, and he pronounced them all to be edible, although the

acid level in some of the pickles suggested they could be rather sour. Perhaps

they would be better eaten with the cheese in the bottom cupboard, and when

Joyce looked, there were eight round blocks of white cheese, each about 2lbs

in weight. Div gave these a clean bill of health as well, adding that the thick

stone slab they were sat on had regulated the temperature to a perfect level.

Cutting a piece off one of the cheeses, Joyce put it on one of the plates she’d

cleaned, and sat in the large armchair, asking Div for an update on his search

for the farm’s owners. The visor came up, to display the results he’d found, as

he explained the trail he’d followed. The original patent of ownership had been

granted to Phillip Dawson in 1913, following the filing of his application in

1908 for this quarter section of public land, and his subsequent proving of that

same quarter.

The local city hall records showed Phillip’s marriage to Mary in 1920, the birth

of their son John in 1922, John’s marriage to Susan in 1943, and the birth of

their daughter Helen in 1945, all from the Still Valley Farm address.

Phillip Dawson died in 1953, the farm title passing to Mary, and a homestead

exemption from property tax coming into force until she died in 1960. John

inherited the farm, and records showed that he paid property tax for 3 years,

until his death in a road traffic accident in 1963. At this point Susan inherited

the farm, and also gained a property tax exemption in the same way her

mother had done earlier. Susan worked the farm on her own from that point,

her daughter Helen having married and moved away earlier in the year,

before her father died. For two months after the funeral Helen stayed at the

farm, making sure Susan was alright with the workload, and then returned to

her husband in New Jersey. An article in the local newspaper had praised the

family’s hard work in maintaining a homestead that they had worked for fifty

years since it was virgin forest, and mentioned Helen’s imminent departure.

Bank records showed irregular small deposits into the farm’s account, usually

for livestock sales of either one or two animals, where cattle sold for $300,

and plough horses sold for $800. Every two or three years there would be a

large deposit of $3,000, with notes on the deposit being for the sale of gold to

an assay office.

IRS returns showed the farm was making a small profit, mainly from livestock,

which funded the personal drawings for the family’s clothing and personal

needs, and the tax benefits for farming meant they actually earned tax credits.

These slightly offset the tax due on the gold sales, but not by much, and the

due taxes were always paid in full, on time, from the bank account. Any large

machinery requirements, such as a new plough, were always matched by a

similar deposit from a gold sale, and the mine equipment costs were offset

against the tax requirement for the metal sales, keeping the overall taxes at a

manageable level.

Div concluded, that overall the whole operation was extremely well managed

to provide for the needs of the family without incurring any visible debt, over

producing the land, yet creating enough profit to fulfil their responsibilities.

When Joyce asked why the farm had been foreclosed if it had been so well

managed, Div said the only thing he could find to indicate a change was the

return of Helen to the farm in 1990. The income from livestock sales had been

declining for a while, possibly due to Susan being 66 years old, and struggling

to cope with the workload. IRS records for the following years showed Helen’s

returns now came from the farm address, so she had evidently moved back to

care for her Mom. The farm’s income returned to its normal level within a few

years, and occasional gold sales seem to have been made to restock the

bank account to a working level.

Everything had continued smoothly until Susan died in 2010 at the age of 86.

Six months later the farm was put on the market with a local realtor, but the

records had shown no interest in the property at all. Helen had shown up on a

set of hospital records in New Jersey last year, and was now in a residential

health care complex, being treated for cancer. It appeared that the farm had

been abandoned, though it was still legally owned by Helen, who wasn’t well

enough to manage it.

For property tax purposes the homestead had been valued by the assessor in

2014 at $70,000 due to its remote location, with no roads or services, and the

worked out mine apparently added no value. Property tax at that time was

0.23% of value, which amounted to $160 per year, but the funeral and other

bills had almost emptied the bank account, which could no longer meet the

direct payment mandate that had always been in place to cover these taxes.

After the property became three years delinquent, the foreclosure notification

process began, a Judgment and Decree was granted by the circuit court, and

the two year redemption period commenced. To get your property back during

this period you must pay all taxes and interest for all years shown on the

judgment and decree, a 5 percent penalty, 9% interest on the judgment, plus

a $50.00 lien holder fee that was assessed in the first year of redemption.

Partial payments are not accepted, and only the following persons are able to

redeem the property: a person with recorded legal interest in the property at

the date of judgment and decree, or an heir or devisee of a person with a

legal interest in the property.

Only Helen would be allowed to recover the farm, if she could raise $1,000

plus the future property taxes, but Div pointed out that her current finances

were almost exhausted by her medical bills. If this didn’t happen by the end of

the year, Helen’s farm would become county property, and bearing in mind

the lack of interest so far, would probably end up derelict.

Joyce didn’t want that to happen, not after the property had supported three

generations, the last of whom would probably soon die uncomfortably, for lack

of available funds. She wanted to do something about it, but she was nowhere

near able to buy this place, even if it still had a boat load of gold stuck under

that hill. She just didn’t have the cash.

Div asked if she really wanted to own the farm, and if cash flow was the only

problem. Joyce agreed that was true as far as it went, but she would only buy

the property if it would end up being profitable, and there was no way she

could be sure of that. Div pointed out that, aside from her altruistic motives,

the initial problem was a precise valuation of the property, which he could

complete overnight, with a confidence of 98.683% accuracy.

Joyce agreed that this was the best course of action, and asked what she

could do to help. Div said he would need to use the scanner on the visor, but

it would require full power for this type of scan, and the level of precision he

needed necessitated complete immobility. The full inspection would probably

take 5.275 hours, as near as he could estimate, with a variance of 0.01 hours

either way, so it would be advisable to start when Joyce went to bed.

She would have loved to take a shower, since the explorations had left her all

sweaty, but since this was a pioneer house, she’d make do with a wash, and

she’d always wanted to use a jug and basin like the one on the dresser.

Taking the decorated china wash set out to the trough, she washed away the

accumulated years of dust, filled the jug with surprisingly warm water that had

stood in full sun all day, then returned to the bedroom. She removed both her

shoes, then her socks, and the underwear disappeared with a command to

the suit, leaving her completely naked in a house she’d only seen for the first

time that day.

There were towels and a washcloth in one of the drawers, and a small bar of

delicately scented soap in the matching dish. Joyce had intended to have a

quick wash, but as the fragrance of the soapy cloth drifted into her senses,

and warm cloth caressed her naked flesh, she was distracted by thoughts of

the woman that had worn the silk panties and bodice she’d found. How often

had she slipped that sensual material from her body, and smelled this same

fragrance of summer flowers, hands caressing warm shapely breasts, before

slipping between firm thighs. A fingertip across her stiffening clitoris, wiping

away the internal juices that flowed along engorged petals, yet never seemed

to wash away completely, and a gentle feminine squeeze to erect nipples.

Joyce could so easily picture herself in this very room, pleasuring herself to a

gently rising climax of satisfaction, the reward for another hard day’s work fully

completed. Wiping away the traces of girl juice seeping from her slit, Joyce

dried herself with the soft towel, then laid on top of the flowered bed covers

she’d cleaned this afternoon. This was such a peaceful place, so different

from the frantic pace of her office job, and busy personal life, and deep down,

she would actually prefer this style of living. Although the work would be more

strenuous physically, it had been much more satisfying cleaning the house

with a broom and carpet beater, and feeding all the livestock in the top field.

She wouldn’t need to spend hours in the gym, or shopping for her groceries,

almost everything would be the product of her own hands, and the mindless

television programs would be a thing of the past. She so hoped this would

work out as she expected.

“Alright Div, visor on,” Joyce instructed, “full scan, this quarter section, and all

the adjoining ones, resource identification, and financial viability breakdown.”

The familiar tingle started in the back of her neck, and she was totally at ease

as the visor wrapped around her face, the display lighting up, then resolving

into an image of her laid on the bed, completely unclothed. When she queried

where the picture was coming from, since it seemed an out of body view, Div

told her it was being bounced off the ceiling so that she could see what was

happening to her, and be comfortable with it.

Joyce appreciated his concern for her feelings, but couldn’t resist saying,

“Thank you Div, but can you do something to improve that drab, grey visor?”

and was pleased to see it turn a deep, shiny red with gold accents. “That’s

much better, thanks, there’s no reason not to be fashionable.”

“Are you ready to begin, Joyce,” the Guyver enquired, “I need to immobilise

you while I set up the scan parameters, then tighten it up when the collection

takes place.”

Taking a deep breath, Joyce announced, “Good to go, Div. Just go easy on

me, OK?” Then she let out her breath slowly, relaxing as the air left her lungs,

yet watching as the suit grew tendrils from the visor to the corners of the bed,

wrapping round the posts, and tightening to keep the device stable. She tries

to watch the display, but the Guyver is streaming a massive amount of data,

and she doesn’t want to interfere by asking Div to simplify it down to her level.

For a while Joyce considers the possibilities of being able to live here, if this

does work out, and becoming a farmer to put food on the table, as well as all

the gold she’ll be able to mine when she knows exactly where it is. There will

be so much to learn, about both of those skills, but she is very confident of her

abilities with Div to help her.

Eventually her thoughts drift back to physical things, such as the cool feel of

the bed beneath her bare skin, the pretty covers so soft to the touch, and how

comfortable it feels, despite having laid here for an hour without moving. She

recalled the feeling of washing earlier, standing naked in the middle of the

room, without the privacy of a small, closed bathroom. She wondered if it was

the same for the owner, Susan, when she washed in the same way, the rise

of sexual passion at the exposure, the gentle touch of fingers on those private

places. Did Susan lay here naked and exposed, bringing herself pleasure with

her fingers, or some innocent phallic object like the personal mop that Joyce

had used in the privy. Or was Susan a prude who considered sex a dirty task

that was required as her duty towards her husband, just like Joyce’s Mom.

Perhaps it was Helen that enjoyed the pleasures of a naked wash in her room

at night, followed by the touch of fingers on her sensitive flesh as she lay open

legged on the bed in the small room. Joyce’s fingers now roamed the joys of

her own breasts and pussy, visualising Helen doing the same thing, keeping

the moans of pleasure as quiet as possible, so not to disturb her Mom next

door. Joyce didn’t have that restriction, and freely voiced her rising excitement

at each touch.

It took a few moments to acknowledge Div’s voice on the headset, having lost

herself in the scene she was playing out, and the sensual passion rising in her

pussy. Div informed her that the scans were progressing well, although it was

consuming more power than originally estimated, so he’d cut back on checks

he normally made of the surroundings, and Joyce’s welfare, which meant he’d

not noticed her masturbation before. He’d been alerted by the power spike of

several seconds ago, when Joyce had pinched her clitoris, and told her he

was going to harvest her power output to resume the perimeter checks.

Joyce just said OK, and thanked him for the update, returning her fingers to

her throbbing clit, and continuing her self stimulation. Instead of picking up his

scanning duties, Div questioned Joyce about why her output was higher than

previous sessions with this low level of stimulation. When Joyce said she

didn’t want to distract him from the current project, the Guyver brushed off her

objections, explaining that the present scanning phases were under control,

and could manage without impact while he pursued the power query. Most of

her monitored excitement sessions had been either reward events, instigated

by the unit, or Joyce’s almost nightly self pleasure actions, but they had never

produced this efficiency of output. He admitted that Joyce had generated

much higher outputs on occasion, but that was usually when he applied direct

stimulation to her most sensitive places, not during casual contact.

Smiling to herself, Joyce explained how it had been the mental images of

other people playing with themselves, that increased her response, not just

her own touching. They’d had chats before about her masturbation habits, but

more about the frequency and intensity, than discussions about the cerebral

mechanics of what she was doing. While Div was very well informed about the

interaction between physical contact, and sexual response, at an animal level,

and the added complication of human emotional behaviour, in relationships,

he’d no clue about sexual fantasy and role play. Sex for pleasure only was OK

in the context that he knew it existed, and was very prevalent in human beings

that he’d observed in general, but he’d never seen a rational explanation of

how the mechanics of it worked.

Joyce tried her best to explain how erotic fiction and imagination worked

together, and Div tried to make the connection, but failed miserably at each

attempt. Joyce thought a practical demonstration might work, so she asked

Div to display a movie for her, if he had spare capacity, telling him to find one

called “The Outlaw Josey Wales”. When he’d located it, Joyce had him skip to

the part where Sondra Locke was captured by bandits. Her blouse was ripped

open to expose her breasts, and then she was thrown to the ground while a

group of men pulled her skirt and panties down to display her bare bottom to

them. Joyce explained how she imagined herself in this position, stripped by

men she didn’t know, her body mauled and fondled, and stimulated against

her will, then raped by them, one after the other, her bottom as well as her

pussy. Yet each time she would be made to cum, and they would jeer at her

arousal, but the humiliation of responding to them excited her even more. But

the whole point of this was that the danger was not real, it was only perceived,

and in her mind she knew that she was safe to let the feelings wash over her.

In real life, as she’d been just before she met the Guyver unit, she’d hated the

man who raped her, because she had no real control, she couldn’t change the

way things happened, nor stop them if she reached a limit she wasn’t ready to

step over. She could even have lost her life like the girl had a few days later.

Div was still finding it hard to understand why she would want to put herself in

danger like that, so Joyce drew a parallel with Div taking part in a training

exercise where he was pitched against another team to test their skills. At

times it could be enjoyable because there was no danger of being killed, as

there would be against a real enemy, and at any point, the exercise could be

turned off, because he had control of the situation, as did the opposing team.

The danger was simulated, not real, and the purpose of the exercise was his

personal advancement, without any harm to either side.

In sexual fantasies, the perceived danger enhanced the players’ enjoyment as

they directed just how far they were prepared to go, without any permanent or

serious harm being incurred by anyone. This evening, Joyce explained, she’d

imagined herself in the place of one of the previous owners, who was playing

with herself when she wasn’t allowed to. Joyce had to describe to Div the

many differing views on the social acceptability of sexual activity, and how the

person’s upbringing would shape their future attitudes. Sometimes their early

experiences would reinforce their parents teaching, but occasionally a child

would go against them, either through reasoned choice, or just to rebel.

Because human sexual drives were so strong, an individual would intend to

pursue the values they’d learned, but were unable to control the urges inside

them, giving in to the pleasures. Afterward they would feel ashamed of these

actions, and humiliated at their lack of control, or else they would reason that

private pleasures had nothing to do with other people’s perceptions, and they

would decide to enjoy them freely.

Joyce admitted that she had been in that situation, believing all her mother’s

rules about not touching herself sexually, or dwelling on enticing thoughts, yet

giving in to her strong sex drive on many occasions. When her Mom caught

her masturbating, Joyce would be completely undressed, which was usually

frowned upon, and then thoroughly examined to determine the full extent of

her arousal. Because her Mom strongly disapproved of this practice, she was

never gentle when she spread her daughter’s labia to check their distension,

or inserted a finger into the girl’s vagina to test for dampness. Although her

clitoris was obviously engorged, her Mom would grip the shaft between two

fingernails; pull it right out, and peel the clitoral hood back with the other hand.

This was excruciatingly painful as Joyce’s clit was dragged in all directions,

against the opposing pull of her hood, gradually separating the two structures

in the same way a boy’s foreskin is retracted from his glans. Sometimes she

would be sore for days afterward, but at the time, the pain only added to the

sensations already in that delicate organ. Her bare breasts would be similarly

inspected, squeezed, and twisted, the nipples especially so, which made them

stiffen even more, and throb incessantly.

The conclusions her Mom arrived at following this examination would decide

the amount of punishment Joyce was given, a smacked bottom at least, with

the number of swats increasing with her level of arousal. On an increasingly

regular basis, as her body developed, Joyce would find the initial painful stage

soon turned to heat, which inflamed her sexual passions, and provided signs

of her increasing excitement. When Mom saw her daughter’s slit dripping with

juice, she would punish her breasts as well and sometimes her pussy mound,

or even directly between her legs. Joyce tried her best to suppress evidence

of being turned on, during her punishment, but afterwards, in bed, she would

relieve her needs with renewed enthusiasm. Her attitudes changed when she

attended college, thanks to long discussions with her roommate, and she was

now very comfortable with her sexuality, and even included her childhood

discipline experiences into her play scenes.

She explained to Div that all of these memories were intertwined with scenes

of similar, imagined events happening in this very house, and her body’s

response was always disproportionally greater than the outcome of her touch.

Fantasy effects were often increased by adding physical attributes to the story

in certain places, such as pushing her own panties down, or spreading her

legs wide apart at the appropriate moment.

With his understanding of Joyce’s emotional makeup improved, Div offered

the suggestion that she sub vocalise her fantasy as it happened, and then he

would add physical stimulus that would enhance her responses. Some might

be off target to begin with, but he could monitor the increase of her arousal

attributes, and adjust his intervention, to maximise her sexual satisfaction.

Joyce closed her eyes and re-started her scene, with Helen undressing, then

opened them as she felt the satin garments caress her skin, trying to look

down her body, which she couldn’t do because her head was restrained by

the visor. Div still had the external display turned on though, and she watched

a thin piece of suit material gently trail over her legs with the identical feel of

real silk. The sensations were far more realistic than the underwear he made

for her a few days ago at the campsite, or even today as she’d walked round

the farm. She complimented Div on is special effects, and told him to ask her

about a fashion show when they next had free time.

Once more, Joyce started her story, this time taking much more notice of what

was happening to her, as the imaginary Helen stripped, then Joyce felt a

warm, damp washcloth travel over her body. Even the towel Helen dried her

warm body with felt soft against Joyce’s skin, and the tingle between her legs

was the unmistakable flow of power as the Guyver set a vibrator against her

internal G-spot. Reaching down, Joyce could just feel the hair thin wire that

slipped between her labia.

In her fantasy, Helen stood against the bedpost, pressing the shaped top

against her sparsely haired pubis, the visor image showing the suit’s replica

laying across her own lower body. Joyce had noticed the turned posts when

she was in both of the bedrooms, admiring the workmanship, and the gently

rounded corners on every edge. Her immediate thought had been of a woman

straddled on top, impaled, with her feet tied apart so she couldn’t lift herself off

the three round spheres, 1 inch, 1.5 inch, and 2 inches in diameter, wedged in

her tight pussy. Now Helen raised herself on tiptoe, rubbing the top ball along

the wet slit, lubricating its entrance into her body, as Joyce’s pussy followed

each move, stretching her dripping tunnel. Each time Helen dropped down

further, another section forced its way into Joyce, till all three round wooden

balls were fully embedded, and Helen’s feet were on the floor.

As Joyce had Helen begin to dismount, the suit began to slide the shaft in and

out, and Joyce found her story following along, as the girl in her imagination

humped the bedpost with deep strokes, lifting almost off, then dropping down.

Restraints wrapped round Joyce’s ankles, reached out to the bedpost, and

pulled her legs apart, Helen mirroring as ropes attached her to the bed, but

the spread of her legs now produced a deeper penetration. The post pounded

into the cervix of both players, becoming painful, then pressed deeper and

deeper, Helens feet coming off the floor as her whole weight was supported

on her womb. A bulge was clearly visible on her tummy as they both writhed

through a shattering climax, fingers sinking into firm breasts as they were

squeezed in helpless reaction.

The scene continued as Helen’s Mom came into her room, berating the girl for

these filthy habits, the reprimand hauntingly familiar to the way Joyce’s Mom

would tell her off. She went to the girl’s bottom draw, retrieved the leather

paddle Joyce had seen earlier, and began to smack the bare bottom on show

before her. As the paddle fell, Joyce felt the suit shock her own bottom in the

same place as Helen, and they were spanked together for twenty strokes,

before Helen was pushed over, with her head on the bedcovers. The post was

digging into her insides as she folded in half, then Joyce felt the bonds on her

legs relocate to the headboard, and pull her into the same position, her own

anal intrusion twisting her intestines painfully.

Joyce’s second stage punishment was always with the cane, so Helen now

had to suffer the same fate, as her Mom decreed ten cuts, the first one biting

into her bottom, and into Joyce as well, when the suit formed a thin shaft on a

springy extension. The second stroke had Joyce cumming again, and she lost

track of the story as her caning continued to the allotted ten strokes, each one

adding to the sexual explosion throughout her loins. Even though the caning

had stopped, the after tremors of orgasm still rippled along Joyce’s clit, deep

inside her womb, and in her throbbing nipples, but not dying down. The stabs

of pleasure kept coming back, building up to near climax, then backing down,

and up again, over and over till she begged for release.

The visor display split into two images, one of herself tied to the bed, with her

pussy painfully stuffed, the other image from a movie she couldn’t place, with

a guerrilla soldier laughing as a woman screamed out of shot. The man asked

for her deepest secrets, the voice obviously edited from different film scenes,

demanding to know which film scene made her wet. Which story had she read

on the web that had disgusted her, yet she couldn’t stop reading, what rape

scene had been the most painful, what story sites were in her favourites on

the computer. Were there any sexual activities that she refused to take part in,

point blank, even if she were to be forced into them?

Joyce had hesitated to answer, and watched as the suit produced a thin band

that wrapped round the base of her breasts, another round the centre of the

swollen globe it produced, then a thinner thread coiled around each nipple.

The construction squeezed tightly, digging into her flesh, then when she took

too long to answer another question, the sections moved apart, stretching her

tits lengthways. The pain was not too great, keeping just below her threshold,

and it alternated from her breasts to her pussy, where the inner and outer

labia were clamped and stretched. A thin thread wrapped round and round the

full length of her clitoris shaft, pulling out from her body, then a fish hook

formed under the fleshy hood, its point stabbing the thin skin. When Joyce

refused to admit that she enjoyed having her pussy tortured, and wanted a

piercing in her clit, electric shocks pulsed into her shaft, exciting her till she

climaxed. The hook pulled tight, slipping through the delicate piece of flesh

with a stab of pain that drove her orgasm to the next level. The hook turned

into a ring, which thickened in width, stretching her fresh piercing to take the

pressure as her clitoral hood elongated right to the top of her groove.

Gradually, the sensations in her trembling body dropped back to normal levels

she could cope with, and Div slipped a drinking tube into her mouth, to keep

her hydrated, supplying cool water as she sipped. She was still fastened to

the bed, though not tightly, just spread eagled, but at least the breast and

pussy bondage had gone. The hood piercing was still there, but Div had now

shaped it into a curved bar with a sapphire cat, to match her navel jewellery,

except this one had clawed feet that wrapped around her clitoris. Feeling all

warm and cosy after her sexual exercise routine, Joyce drifted off into sleep,

with her last conscious thought being whether Helen wore pussy jewellery.

She slept well, though she had no sense of how long it had been other than

daylight was just beginning to brighten the windows, and there were snatches

of having enjoyed some very arousing dreams. This was confirmed by putting

her fingers to the sticky mess between her legs, thick girl juice coating the top

of her thighs, all over her petals, pubic mound, and trailing up to her tummy.

When she looked, even her titties had shiny cum trails dried on them, the hard

nipples being completely coated, and she could taste it on her lips. Lifting her

hand up to her face, Joyce slipped the sticky fingers into her mouth, sensually

sucking them clean of every trace of her girl cum.

“Wow!” Joyce said, when her hand was clean, “that must have been some wet

dream I had last night.” She thought she heard Div answer, “24 wet dreams”,

the sound becoming garbled, but she was sure she’d heard something, but

maybe she imagined it. “All this sex and bondage is affecting my mind.” she

said to herself, again hearing Div agreeing with her.

“Earphones on!” she commanded, “Div, was that your voice just then?”

Div replied through the earphones, “Yes Joyce, that was me using the sub

dermal com unit. You’re just not very receptive to it. Listen carefully, as if I’m

stood behind you, whispering in your ear.”

The earphones withdrew, and Div’s voice came faintly from behind her ears,

“Sometimes it’s useful to communicate more discretely, without a visible

device. I have increased the power slightly, so try to respond sub vocally, as if

you were reading to yourself, without moving your lips.”

“Is this what you mean?” Joyce responded, “Can you hear me?”

“Didn’t your Mom tell you not to eat with your mouth full?” Joyce heard, with

that tone he used when he was trying to be funny. “Focus on your diction, as if

you didn’t want the woman in front to know you thought her skirt was too short

for someone her age.”

Joyce recalled the event in question, “Well it was. When she picked up her

bags I could see her panties, as could the guy in reception.”

“Much better, my dear,” he complimented her; “you need to practice this so

you don’t go around talking to yourself, like you have this week. You can get

away with it round here, but you’ll get some funny looks in the Mall.” Turning

on the reward system, he stimulated Joyce’s nipples and clitoris, till she was

squirming on the bed, then tightened the restraints, and ramped her to climax.

She was still trembling when he released her, and she staggered from the bed

naked, reaching for the chamber pot to relieve herself, holding it between her

legs rather than sitting on it. Div told her to look in the dresser mirror, where

he was projecting an image of her crouching slightly, merging it with a scene

of six men watching, looking straight at her. “Spread your legs wider, young

lady,” a voice came from behind her, “these gentlemen want to see you pee in

the pot. Pull your slit apart so they can see the stream as it comes out.”

Obediently she parted her labia, feeling the humiliation of peeing in public, her

clit rising in response as these strangers watched to the last drop, and then

they all disappeared as she put the pretty chamber pot down, to be emptied

later.

Pouring water from the jug into the wash bowl, Joyce complained she hated

having a cold wash, so Div told her to watch as he deployed a sleeve round

both index fingers. She was instructed to place one finger in the bowl, and

point the other at the chamber pot, where she watched a slender strand reach

out and the cup full of urine she’d just passed turned to solid ice. The wash

bowl, on the other hand (which made her giggle), was steaming and she now

dipped her fingers into fairly warm water. She queried the power use, just to

give her a warm wash, when the Guyver’s reserves were still depleted, but

Div explained than no power had been consumed, merely transferred from

one liquid to another.

It was a very enjoyable wash, the feminine fragrance of the soap enhancing

the delicate touch of the warm cloth over her sensitive pussy, and the stronger

squeezing of her titties, twisting her erect nipples to remove all traces of the

dried on girl juice from last night. When she had rinsed, and dried her body on

the soft towel, she asked Div for a set of pale yellow bikini panties, trimmed in

wide white lace, and a non-padded bra to match, admiring the set as it flowed

round her. Joyce put on her own shorts and top, socks and shoes, brushed

her hair, then ate some of yesterday’s fruit for breakfast, washed down with

water from the jug, mixed with a little bottled raspberry squash, dated over five

years ago. It still tasted delicious though, and made an excellent punch, much

better than anything she’d had from Wal-Mart.

When she’d eaten, now refreshed and ready for the day, she listened to Div’s

report from last night’s scan, which had gone exceptionally well, and mapped

every cubic inch of the farm’s quarter section, and the eight adjoining ones.

Agriculturally this full section was extremely fertile, with a third of the surface

being grassland, and the remainder forest, apart from the rock outcrop here,

which covers only two acres, and a 40 acre lake in the south west quarter

section, that teemed with fish. The rest of the quarter sections were totally

forested, with small clearings, and several streams that drained the land.

The mineral estate was solely concentrated in this quarter section, the gold

seam growing thinner till it petered out twenty yards south of the boundary,

and eight yards beyond the north boundary line. There was a small deposit of

silver in an isolated pocket, that would yield $100,000, and was situated 15

yards below the gold seam, but since its location was known precisely, it

could be removed at minimum expense. The interesting point that the scan

revealed was that the vein of gold that had been almost worked out, was quite

a sparsely populated one, over a length of 400 yards, but only one yard thick.

There was, however, another parallel gold vein, 10 yards further east, in the

same quartz deposit, which was much denser, and would produce fifty times

more gold that the original working, but it would still take a lot of effort. The

overall value of the vein would be about $50,000,000 when processed.

The trickle of water at the top end of the property, that fed the watering hole

for the cattle, was part of a small stream that disappeared into a crevice at the

top of the rock outcrop. 300 yards further down, it dropped through another

crevice, onto the quartz, then onto softer deposits below where the outcrop

dropped under the grass. At this point it had eroded the softer rock to create a

10 by 20 foot oval cave, with a small pool in the centre where placer deposits

had been dropped from the water flow. Div estimated the value of the gold in

this location to be $350,000 with very little extraction cost, and a small shaft

could be dug to it in a few weeks.

Yesterday, a quick survey of the existing mine workings had shown that an

estimated 3 kilos of gold, with a value of $100,000 could be harvested from

the tunnel floor with no digging at all. The full survey had confirmed this, with

a slightly increased value of $120,000 in all.

There had also been a stash revealed, a little way down the tunnel from the

main entrance, where a metal box held a large stock of drill steel, too heavy to

lift without moving each one separately, and hid a small storage area behind.

There was a space cut into the rock face, which held a metal bin with a piece

of rock wall attached to the front of it, providing an almost invisible cover for

the hiding place. Inside the bin were 15 10oz gold bars, and 20 5oz gold bars,

all stamped “Still Valley”, with a net value of $280,000 and ready to be sold.

The property was definitely a viable proposition, and if bought for the asking

price of $70,000 would recoup the initial outlay within two weeks of purchase.

In fact, Div suggested, if Joyce were to take 12 of the 5oz bars, she could buy

the property outright, without having to put up a single penny. Joyce objected

straight away, since the gold wouldn’t be hers to use until after the sale, and it

would be immoral to buy the farm with the present owner’s own money. There

had to be another way, something that wasn’t illegal, and was within her moral

boundaries, and her sense of fair play.

When Div checked Joyce’s financial status, she had a couple of thousand

dollars in her bank account, a good, stable job that paid much more than she

needed for living expenses, since she had no rent or mortgage to pay. The

house she lived in had been her father’s, which he’d left to her in his will when

he died two years ago, and the mortgage had been paid off by his insurance.

Since she had full equity in the property, she could raise a mortgage on it that

would easily cover the cost of the farm, including the outstanding taxes.

Suitable terms could be arranged for the mortgage, so she could pay back the

whole sum after she owned the farm, and all its contents, including the gold

stash. The farm was still officially on the realtor’s books, and listed for sale as

fee simple, including lock, stock, and barrel. This meant there were no extra

costs for the equipment, livestock, and crops, as well as no discount for any

damaged items, and the ownership title to the property was for all time.

These arrangements were acceptable to Joyce, as she believed they fulfilled

Helen’s expectations when she put the place up for sale, and Div confirmed

that the sale proceeds would also cover her current medical requirements.

When Joyce asked Div to clarify those requirements, he explained it was for

her upcoming care bill, several recommended procedures over the next three

months, and her residential care until she was discharged at that point. She

had no surviving family, so there were no inheritance needs to pass on, and

her housing costs, for the short term she was likely to survive the disease,

would be covered by benefits agencies and charities.

Joyce hadn’t realised how serious Helen’s condition was, and there was no

way she would allow her to live on benefits during the last portions of her life.

When Joyce had the farm organised again, she would make sure that Helen’s

needs would be fully met for as long as she required, in appreciation for the

same efforts she had put in to look after her Mom, Susan.

Div was asked to start the process going by arranging the mortgage on her

own house, choosing a product with a slightly higher interest rate and fees,

but with no early settlement penalty. If the timescales worked as expected, it

would cost just under $1,000 to provide funds for the sale, under a proposal to

re-model her house.

There were no phone lines anywhere near the farm, but the Guyver unit had

no problem linking in to the satellite communications system overhead, giving

Joyce a telephony headset, and connecting her directly to Helen’s room in the

hospital. Div had already accessed her medical notes, and determined that

she was comfortable, and able to take visitors, not that she’d ever had any.

Opening her introduction, Joyce said straight away that she was interested in

buying Helen’s farm, and had researched its history, and her family’s efforts to

raise three generations on the land. Helen was willing to discuss the sale, but

apologised in advance that she may have to break off if she became tired, so

Joyce reassured her that she fully understood Helen’s position, and her health

issues, so would be brief.

Explaining that she had personal reasons for wanting a secluded location that

the farm offered, and an avid interest in working it as her family always had in

their ownership, Joyce offered Helen the full asking price of $70,000. She was

also aware of outstanding taxes on the property, and with Helen’s agreement,

would settle the debt in addition to the sale price, transferring that money into

the county office account, to enable Helen to regain title from the foreclosure

proceedings. Joyce said she would give her time to think it over, and ring back

tomorrow to answer any questions she had, as she didn’t want to put Helen in

the position of feeling pressured.

Helen asked if Joyce had actually seen the property, or was just working from

the sales description, and sounded pleased when Joyce told her she’d hiked

up there yesterday. Helen said she had made arrangements with the realtor to

have someone visit regularly to make sure everything was OK at the farm, in

particular to care for the animals, since she’d been too distressed when Mom

had died, and she had to leave. Joyce assured her that the place was in quite

reasonable repair, and the animals had been recently fed, so everything had

seemed to be under control. Joyce didn’t want to distress Helen with worry

over the livestock having been abandoned to fend for themselves, so thought

it best to frame her answer tactfully. Helen admitted that she’d considered the

possibility of dropping the price of the farm when she became ill, to release a

part of her assets for medical bills, but had been unable to organise it, and it

was now all she had left, so she was relieved that help had arrived in time.

The suit visor deployed, and Div displayed a message on screen, without any

interruption to the conversation, saying that Helen’s voice analysis was now

showing signs of tiredness and stress. Joyce sub vocalised a thanks to Div,

then as Helen paused, she suggested that maybe Helen should rest, as she

didn’t want to tire her, and she’d promised to be brief. There was no urgent

need to settle this matter right away, and her offer would be good for as long

as Helen needed, to come to a decision. She was even prepared to put a

deposit down as a gesture of goodwill, to show her sincerity, if Helen had no

objection. Helen said that wasn’t necessary, but she would sleep on Joyce’s

offer, and would welcome her calling back tomorrow. With that, they both said

their goodbyes, and hung up, at which point Div said that Helen’s side of the

conversation showed that she was very much in favour of the offer, but hadn’t

wanted to fully commit. That was understandable in her present situation, but

all indications were that she would agree.

Having concluded the morning’s business, Joyce was eager to take a proper

look at the mine, and asked Div for a proximity check, pleased to hear that the

nearest people were over 50 miles away, in all directions. This was a limit that

Joyce had agreed should be monitored, although the Guyver unit was capable

of identifying most individuals within several hundred miles using the suit’s

own sensors. It was also possible to access the satellite tracking systems to

view half the continent, but the targeting couldn’t be adjusted without alerting

those who controlled them, which was the last thing they wanted. Anyone who

came inside the fifty mile boundary would be constantly tracked to provide

ample warning if they might pose a threat to them.

Since there was no danger of being disturbed any time during the day, Joyce

headed over to the mine entrance nearest to the house, the sturdy lock on the

chain securing it to the hillside, opening to the magic touch of the suit’s glove,

and it’s clever magnetic field manipulation. Entering the tunnel, she turned left

to follow the upward incline in the direction of the second gate, which she’d

seen on her exploration yesterday. The daylight only came a short way along

the shaft, but the suit fashioned a belt round Joyce’s waist, with a strong light

mounted on the front, so she could see where she was going. Div pointed out

one of the loose rocks in the corner between wall and floor, putting the visor in

place so Joyce could see the analytical scan targeting a specific small piece

of quartz. When she examined it, Joyce was amazed to see the lines and

lumps of gold running below the surface, and when the screen switched to a

normal view, a target point indicated the single small spot of gold. This was

the only outwardly visible sign of $500 worth of gold that Joyce could extract

with a hammer and a crucible, out in the shed behind the house.

Div asked her to look along the length of the tunnel, and the display turned

down everything except the solid walls, and then slowly added in the debris

on the floor, and in the corners, each picked out in a pastel shade. Finally a

series of deep red lines and spots spread out from her feet, heavily deposited

at the edges, but covering the whole floor to some extent, picking out each

particle of discarded gold. This waste pile, Div pointed out, had an intrinsic

value of $280,000, and could be swept up, crushed, and melted, in two weeks

with just the equipment to hand.

Walking as far as the top gate, Div had the visor display the rock structure in

the walls, highlighting the way the quartz seemed to curve into the tunnel,

where it had been mined out, then changed into the base rock. The screen

assembled an extrapolate image of the original formation, the quartz running

six feet this side of the outer rock face for most of its length. At this point it had

turned outward, leaving less than a foot of rock, and the miners had broken

through to the outside as they removed the gold bearing material. The shaft

had continued to be worked for several yards, but was only plain rock, as if

the seam had reached its end, which it in effect it had. Div told her the scan

results had been summarised, and displayed a less detailed image, showing

the small traces of gold on the tunnel wall. Moving deeper through the quartz,

a much denser seam of gold appeared, wider and deeper than to one next to

her, and stretching in both directions. This was the valuable one.

It came to an end at the same place the visible gold had done, but with a

vertical face, as if cut with a large knife. The focal point of the image drew

back, the different layers of rock being picked out with lines, and thirty feet

deeper down the shear face, the quartz seam could be seen continuing

horizontally. The two gold veins were picked out, drawing together into a

single thread that ended eight yards beyond the north boundary of the farm,

which was highlighted on the display. The distances were suitable to enter

through this gate, mine the seam across to pick up the wider vein, then drop

down to the lower level and remove that seam up to the edge of the property.

Having examined the north end of the mine, Joyce turned, and followed the

tunnel south, past the lower gate, and down a steeper incline to where the

quartz finished, and several yards of plain rock indicated the end of the vein.

Once again, the visor displayed a schematic of the rock structure, a curve

going behind the exposed rock, and the larger gold vein ten yards further in

again. The image showed they were now fifteen feet below the meadow, at

the point where the rock went below ground on the outside, but travelled on

for twenty yards south of the boundary, which was marked on the schematic.

The scan had shown the vein reducing in size as it drew to its end, leaving a

small percentage that could not be mined, as it was not part of the farm land.

Next, the visor displayed the course of the small stream along the top of the

rock face, starting near the cattle enclosure, moving to the crevice were it had

entered the rock itself, over the quartz, and then down again. The quartz had

been eroded away, exposing the gold itself, which was washed downstream,

and into the lower crevice. Here, a small channel had been slowly worn away,

leading to the underground cavern, where the scan showed a large amount of

gold that had sunk to the bottom of the water as the flow reduced in speed.

There were nuggets from 2oz, down to a quarter ounce, laying in a deep bed

of finer gold fragments, and topped by a layer of small quartz pieces. Div said

the increased water flow in winter would agitate the sediment, and allow the

lighter quartz to be washed away, leaving the gold behind, and room for more

quartz to drop during the other seasons.

The display showed a proposed access way they could dig, going south east

from the other side of the quartz vein, to the centre line of the cavern, about

eight feet above the water, then two sets of staging cut in the rock face to get

to the surface. Div said they could scoop up the gold sediment in buckets that

would be brought up to the work shed to be sluiced, and that he could easily

modify the existing equipment to collect over 99% of the gold product. This at

first would be the largest non-productive part of the operation, but would yield

the easiest profit, to develop working capital.

As Joyce walked back towards the entrance, she asked to see where the gold

stash was hidden, and the visor lead her to the box of drill steel, unobtrusively

laid at the side of the tunnel, covered in dust and rock. Looking closely behind

it, Joyce could see no sign of the concealed storage nook and needed Div to

outline it in red light for her. Now she knew where it was, there was just a very

faint line along the edge, irregular in shape to better conceal it, but it was a

masterpiece of workmanship. She didn’t want to move it, since it belonged to

Helen until the sale went through, but even then, she intended to use it to

make Helen’s remaining life as comfortable as possible.

As they walked out into the noon sunshine, Joyce was feeling very pleased

with herself, and thanked Div for making all of this possible for her. Although

he acknowledged her gratitude, Div considered it a minor thing he’d assisted

Joyce with, merely facilitating a change in the provision of life’s necessities.

She had already been in a stable situation, with her needs taken care of, but

his circumstances had been much more catastrophic. Without Joyce providing

a host for him, the Guyver unit would have deactivated totally, and he would

have ceased to exist. Not only was she providing him with ample power to fill

his reserves in a comparatively short time, with minimum needs for herself,

she had a potential unmatched by any of his previous hosts. It wasn’t just her

physical structure, but the level of intellect she already possessed, giving him

a huge variety of challenges in the short time they’d been symbiotic, yet the

moral standards she held of great consequence were vastly superior to most

of the individuals he had come across in his recent experiences. There was a

lot more to this host than he’d originally expected.

Joyce had investigated the upper section of the property yesterday, and

wanted to check out the rest of what she was planning to buy, so headed to

the south end of the outcrop, and round to the other side. The boundary was

fenced along its full length, with the standard log and limb construction that

the early pioneers used, and is ideally suited to a property like this, in the

middle of plentiful forest. Where it passed the end of the outcrop, another

fence came off at right angles, with a four rail gate of removable poles, and

the join to the rock using holes cut direct into the face. Joyce pulled one of the

poles back, and it worked as smoothly as she assumed it always had, so she

slid it back in place, and climbed over into the next field.

This was meadow grass, covering the entire area, and Div said there had

been nothing other than wild animals in it for about five years, but there was

evidence that it had been regularly grazed for a considerable time before that.

There was a fence round this whole area, some of it attached to the trees on

the forest edge, which would keep any livestock secure once they had been

placed in here. A shallow gulley ran across one corner, with a trickle of water

draining from the forest, and a stone cistern had been set into it, made from

rough hewn slabs, with a paved edge that prevented mud from fouling the

water. Div said the cistern would hold enough water for the current livestock to

last several weeks without rainfall, and if both enclosures were rotated, then

the grass would feed them through most of the year.

The area south of the fence, seemed to be split in half, along a north/south

line, with grass on one side, and wild maize on the other, but there was some

intermingling to be seen. Div explained that the scan had shown this area to

have been cultivated as seen, maize planted on one side, and grass on the

other, with crop rotation every four or five years. Since the farm had been

empty for five years, this area had begun to grow wild, with residual crops

showing through in both sides. Although it was not part of the quarter section

that belonged to the farm proper, no-one else actually owned this land, so it

was federal property, and there was no-one to object to this low level of crop

production. Both of these crops would be a valuable addition to the supplies

for the farm, providing grain for the household, and winter fodder for the stock.

The scan had shown up three barrels of ready milled flour in the work shed,

all well sealed, and in perfectly good order. One of the machines in there was

a small scale grain mill, driven by the waterwheel, and perfectly suited to the

family that had lived here for so many years. This cultivated area straddled

two different quarter sections, and was 160 acres in extent, equal to the size

of the farm overall, so it effectively doubled the available working land, and it

was highly unlikely that anyone would want to buy it, this far off the beaten

track.

Crossing the fence where it bridged the stream, on the south west corner,

Joyce followed the waterway down to the lake that had been scanned last

night, finding it a delightful spot. There was a small sandy beach on one side,

and a variety of edgings around the rest of the water, wide grassy banks,

broken rocks, massive slabs and boulders, and trees right into the water itself.

Joyce stood on the beach, watching the fish breaking the surface as they took

flies off the water, the sun warming her skin, as she listened to the quiet noise

of the forest. The water looked so inviting, and she fancied going for a swim,

not realising she was sub vocalising, until Div’s voice came behind her ears,

“Proximity scan clear to 63 miles.” He was still watching out for her, keeping

her safe from harm, and mindful of her needs.

“Thank you, Div.” Joyce responded out loud, and removed her outer clothes;

Div taking care of her underwear, then stretched her naked body in the bright

sunshine. She walked into the water, surprised to find it so warm, luxuriating

in the feel of it lapping against her skin, the slight difference in temperature

noticeable against her labia, and inside her girl cleft. When it reached up her

tummy, Joyce dived into the water, picking up a strong swimming stroke that

soon had her over to the grass bank on the other shore. The grass was quite

short, and animal tracks showed that this was probably the local watering hole

for the surrounding livestock, so it would be regularly grazed as well. Climbing

onto a large boulder by the water’s edge, she executed a simple graceful dive,

entering the lake without a ripple, and then pulled for the lake bed, fascinated

by how clearly she could see. She only spent a few seconds on admiring the

view, and then kicked off for the surface, her lungs already struggling, but able

to take her back to the fresh air.

“If you would like a breathing aid, Joyce,” came Div’s voice, “the command

would be ‘Breather on’.”

“Oh!” she said in surprise, “Thanks. Breather on.” As she trod water, the visor

slid into place, but much lighter in construction, covering a larger area, from

her forehead to under her chin, and perfectly transparent, with straps round

the back of her head. Putting her face in the water, her vision was totally clear

without the water in contact with her eyes, and she could see the fish swim

through the plants growing on the lake floor. “Where is the air coming from?”

she asked, and Div explained that the outer frame of the breather acted just

like fish gills, separating oxygen from the water, and dissolving carbon dioxide

back into it. There would be no need to replenish air tanks, and she could stay

under for as long as she liked. She explored most of the lake, finding the fish

weren’t frightened if she remained still, and when the suit wrapped a weight

belt round her waist, she was able to sit on the bottom and watch them.

Catfish came up to her and cleaned her skin, especially her hands and feet,

but the most interesting were one group that spent quite a while working on

her nipples, and Div said they were extracting the lactation residue from her

last period. Whatever they were doing was turning her on, and a second team

was soon harvesting the girl juice leaking from her slit, aided by the suit fitting

a bar between her knees to push them wide apart. Joyce had almost cum, but

the catfish must have satisfied their appetite by then, because they turned and

swam away.

Apart from being jilled by a shoal of fish, the other highlight of her swim was

the suit building a pair of fins on her feet, which let her step her underwater

speed up to amazing levels. At one point, the suit deployed a thin speed suit,

flattening her breasts to increase her hydrodynamics, and she was able to

outstrip even the fastest fish in the lake. When she’d done playing mermaid

after Div wrapped her complete lower body in a realistic tail, apart from the

smooth pubis and slit being noticeably exposed, he reconfigured the suit into

a floatation device. It was like floating on an airbed, lying in the middle of the

lake, and working on her tan, till she felt her empty stomach asking to be fed.

When she got back to the beach, Joyce slipped on her top, shorts, and shoes,

not bothering with underwear because she wanted to have her breasts free to

move under her clothes as she walked. She followed the stream back to the

farm gate, then cut across to the house, going inside to prepare some food for

a late lunch. There was still some fruit from yesterday, a piece of cheese, and

some pickled mixed cabbage, turnip, and carrot, with some herbs added in to

the vinegar, that tasted like a very strong coleslaw, as Div said it would after

all this time. It went beautifully with the mature cheese though, and Joyce said

all it lacked was a cup of coffee, but it was too much trouble to light a fire to

boil the water at midday, so she’d leave that till tonight. Div suggested that he

could provide a cup of boiling water, if that would suffice, and had Joyce fill

two cups with water, then put ground coffee from the storage jar into one of

them.

As he’d done this morning, Div deployed a sleeve round both index fingers,

and she placed one finger in each cup, the slender strand reached between

them and the plain water turned to solid ice. The coffee cup, however, was

soon boiling, steaming the aroma through the house, thanks to the marvels of

physics and someone who knew how to apply them. It was a delicious drink,

refreshing after so much water, and she relaxed at the kitchen table as she

considered how this land could provide everything she needed.

With her hunger satisfied, Joyce took a more detailed look round the house

than she had yesterday, checking all of the storage jars in an inventory that

had very little missing from the necessities of life. There were no imported

goods of course; almost everything had come from the farm, or surrounding

forest, and no fresh food except what she’d harvested yesterday. When Helen

left the farm, she had closed it up very efficiently, and Joyce wondered if this

was part of the farm routine when taking long vacations, such as visiting with

distant family. At the end of one shelf, propped up against the side of the

cupboard, was a notebook, full of hand written recipes for all the food a family

would want both everyday things like bread and biscuits, as well as special

foods like Wedding Cake, and Thanksgiving Sweet Mincemeat Tart.

Joyce hadn’t baked since High School Home Ed lessons, which produced an

only just edible cake, yet filled her with a sense of pride that she had created it

herself. The smell of fresh coffee reminded her of Mom’s kitchen, and she

wanted to involve herself in the feeling of this long standing home, starting at

the beginning with a simple quick biscuit recipe. There was a jar of flour, one

of fine sugar, and a jar of dried fruits, but no milk, and no fat, which she had

assumed meant butter. It was the back to basics scenario. How many things

do you have to make before you have the tool you really want. Butter came

from milk, which was one of the missing fresh foods, and she needed some of

that as well. So she would have to milk the cow, which would need a calf to be

suckling, then churn the butter. “These are not going to be QUICK biscuits”,

she said to herself. Div provided some help, by pointing out that there were

several blocks of solidified fat stored with the cheeses, produced by rendering

animal products. There was also a metal bucket in another cupboard, which

had been used in the milking process, and a second, taller milk container with

a lid that had been used for milk storage.

Joyce was really enjoying the pioneer life, and she wanted to get into the part,

so she changed into Helen’s silk undies, her work dress, and an apron from

the rack behind the door in her bedroom. She also found a pink ribbon, and

tied her hair back with it, which added a finishing touch. Taking the bucket,

she headed over to the entrance gate, wanting to walk the rest of the stream’s

path, rather than cutting across the meadow. She stopped at the falls for a

better look than she’d got yesterday, dipping her hand into the plunge pool to

find it was very warm, as were several of the large rocks, all of which were in

full sun, and probably had been all day. While the water would have lost some

of its heat over night, the rock must act as a heat sink, soaking up solar heat

during the day, and releasing it back into the water at night. Joyce would have

bet that the pool was still warm enough to bathe in first thing in the morning.

There was a small upturned bucket on a ledge beside the fall, and when she

looked underneath, there was a china dish, holding a bar of soap, indicating

that this was regularly used as a bath, or a shower, with the waterfall. Perhaps

Helen came here each morning, to strip naked and bathe in the open air, her

groove moist with girl juice, as Joyce’s was now. This wouldn’t get the milking

done though, so Joyce put that thought on hold, and turned to the business in

hand; milk.

As she walked across the top field, towards the group of cattle, she could see

one of them feeding a calf, so Div had been right in saying she could get milk

from them. The cow saw her approach, bucket in hand, and turned towards

the shelter as Joyce drew near, lifelong training kicking in despite five years

coping without her human owners. When the animal walked quietly into a stall

on the far wall, Joyce took the milking stool down from where it was lodged

behind a bracket on the wall, set it beside her, and sat to experience another

new task in her life. Div’s voice told her to clean the teats first, as the suit put

a water jet at her wrist, warm liquid spraying the udder to remove any dirt, and

the blue light irradiating any germs that may be there. Following instructions,

she gently gripped the base of one of the teats, then squeezed her fingers in

sequence, feeling thrilled as fresh milk squirted into the bucket, after adjusting

her aim. Alternating her hands, she kept squeezing till the flow slowed down,

the teats now sitting empty in her palms, so she swapped to the other pair, the

milk coming easier as her technique improved, and the cow got back into a

long remembered routine.

There were three or four pints in the bucket, but considering she’d fed her calf

several times already today, and he was very likely to be starting to wean, that

amount was acceptable. No doubt the yield would increase if a regular milking

schedule was set up, but Joyce was only going to be here for a few days, then

the livestock would have to take care of themselves once more. It would take

a month or so for all the arrangements to be made to transfer ownership of

the farm, but Div was confident that all would run smoothly. Hanging the milk

bucket on a hook on the wall, so it wouldn’t get knocked over, Joyce guided

the cow back out to the field, petting its neck, and praising it for providing her

needs so graciously. Before she went back down to the house, Joyce cut up

another six swedes as a treat for the livestock, and then spread them along

the trough outside the shelter.

Back in the kitchen, Joyce set the fire in the hearth, turning the vent to pull the

heat round the oven, and then followed an age old family recipe for biscuits.

Finding the task much easier than she had at school, Joyce enjoyed being

creative in a practical way, actually making something to feed herself, yet still

surprised when they were not only edible, but tasted delicious. She’d also put

some together without the sugar or fruit, adding a pinch of salt, making them

more savoury. They went very well with the cheese and pickles for an evening

meal, eaten on the front porch, watching the sun going down.

As it grew dark, Joyce went inside and lit an oil lamp, closing the door, but not

locking it, since this was the custom on places like this, and she also had her

own full time security guard. She took off the apron and dress, returning them

to their places, but retained the silk underwear since it felt so delicious on her

skin. She sat in the armchair, with the lamp on the table, slightly behind her,

and picking up the journal, began to read about life on the farm.

The first entry was for New Year 1990, Susan was now 66, and had been on

her own for 27 years, since her husband John had died in 1963. The work

was becoming harder to do by herself, but the crops were enough to feed her,

and the livestock were all healthy. She exchanged letters with her daughter

Helen whenever she went into town, all noted in the journal, about every three

months, posting her a new one, and picking up Helen’s reply from the last one

she’d sent. It was mostly family news, and life on the farm, but the journal

entries showed that they both enjoyed hearing from each other. At Easter

Susan had taken up Helen’s long standing offer to move back to the farm if

her Mom needed the help, or just the company, especially as she grew older.

Helen sold her house in New Jersey, and returned in the summer, aged 45,

but much fitter than her Mom, and able to take on all the heavy work, and a lot

of the fetching and carrying. Susan did her share of the light tasks, and often

kept Helen company when she worked the bottom field, although she was

prone to taking an afternoon nap under the tree shade.

The journal was apparently a family book, rather than personal, as both of

them made entries, Susan about how the farm in general worked, and how

much better it was with her daughter there, Helen about specific events, such

as stock sales, and how satisfying it was to be back home helping Mom again.

Joyce could envisage what daily life had been like for the two women, busy

days filled with useful work, and evenings spent together talking as they both

sewed, or read, or did other small routine tasks. There was a very surprising

change in spring 1993, when a journal entry took on a much more personal

note, covering an event that Joyce had not come across before.

Susan had written that she was very disappointed in Helen, because she had

returned to her former bad habits, which she had assumed were over and

done with when she married. Each journal entry was started with a neat line

across the page, often decorated with small flowers, animals, or other fancy

embellishments, and then the day and date it was made. This teasing new

matter occurred right at the bottom of the page, and Joyce was eager to turn

the page for more information, but found the next three entries had nothing

other than routine work details.

The page after that was for a Sunday, with an unusual morning entry at 8am,

written in great detail. They had started with prayers and Bible readings,

which was the regular practice on the Lord’s Day; even if this was the first

such record of it in three years, but this Sunday there had been an accounting

to settle. Susan had gone to Helen’s room on Wednesday evening, after she

had heard the girl moan out loud, and found her laid face down on the bed, a

hand between her spread legs, so that Susan had clearly seen her finger the

wet slit displayed so openly. Helen had not heard the door open, so Susan

was able to watch until her daughter reached her climax, then even walk up

beside the girl, close enough to read the book she had open in front of her.

Susan didn’t seem overly surprised, merely writing that she had placed her

hand on the disgusting girl’s shoulder, telling her not to move, then leafed

through the pages towards the front, till she arrived at the very first. It had

been dated 1987, three years before Helen had returned home, so she had

brought the book with her, and been adding to it for another three years, with

filth upon depravity. There were, apparently, short stories of women and girls

masturbating, of their sexual congress with men, willingly and taken by rape,

and of penetration by inanimate objects of incredible size, in every orifice.

Accompanying the written word were drawings of naked men, very realistic, in

that Susan easily recognised Helen’s school teacher, although he could never

have fitted a phallus of such proportions in his trousers. There were many of

the men from town depicted, from shopkeepers to the mayor, three mayors in

fact, drawn as the “Election Race”, with three young women bending over the

finish line, their naked rears ready to be penetrated. One of the young girls

was Helen, except, unlike the other two, she was tied to the ground, wrist and

ankle, and an inset showed her with all three penises in all three of her holes.

There were scenes of depravity that Susan would never have imagined, far

worse than Helen’s previous problem through her teenage years, which she’d

thought was resolved.

This last comment really piqued Joyce’s interest, as she wondered what sort

of things Helen had got up to as a teenager, and how a resolution had been at

last achieved, albeit not a permanent one. There was a slight change in style

now, as Susan critiqued her daughter’s work, describing the stories as much

better constructed this time, to present a feasible storyline, with exceptionally

good grammar, and not one spelling mistake. Helen’s artistic talents had truly

blossomed over the years as well, with an attention to detail evident in each of

the male’s endowment, the shape and curves, the veins along the length, and

a subtle highlight of glistening moisture. They were certainly stimulating, she

admitted, if only John were still here to satisfy her needs, and she his.

Following their devotions on Sunday, Helen had been brought to account,

which appeared to be Susan presenting her faults, masturbation in secret,

writing lewd stories, and drawing lewd illustrations, with the sole purpose of

attaining inappropriate sexual release. Helen had freely admitted to all these

charges, then been made to confess the extent of her poor self control, which

was two or three times a week, sometimes in her room at night, but also when

she was outside tending to her chores.

Susan asked her daughter if she remembered the penalty for her unladylike

behaviour, at which Helen said it was one stroke of the switch for each of her

years, since by now she should know better. Joyce thought this had been said

with the ease of long familiarity, as if this sort of punishment had been a part

of everyday life, perhaps during the teenage years referred to earlier. It could

have been Susan’s writing style, but it seemed as if there was nothing out of

the ordinary in punishing her grown up daughter with a switch, for indulging in

a perfectly natural method of relief. Joyce got the impression that Susan was

not shocked by the actual things themselves, the writing and drawing, which

she had complemented as far as technique was concerned. The masturbation

had not been stopped when she first saw it, but rather allowed to continue to a

full completion as she watched, then made her presence known with no call to

her daughter to cover up.

Helen was required to strip completely, and go outside to cut a hazel switch

from the back of the house, presenting it to her Mom with a request that she

be punished to teach her to mend her ways. The one stroke for each year was

45 for Helen, but was to be split into ten cuts at a time for each punishment.

Joyce hadn’t realised that writing, drawing, and masturbation had been taken

as separate counts, so Helen was expecting 135 in all, the first ten across her

bottom as she bent over the table, each raising a suitable weal. The bottom

switching was for masturbating in private, but for writing provocative stories,

the punishment was delivered below the navel, her tummy, upper thighs, and

hairy pubic mound taking two cuts each. Joyce could feel her juices flowing as

Susan described in intimate detail laying the switch into the soft lips, then two

more strokes, deep into the groove, even striking the love button which had

protruded openly. Helen had been laid on her back, with knees apart to allow

access for this part, and had to keep that position for the third offence, without

being allowed to rub any of the hurt away. The switch was used again for her

rude drawings, not only for the sexual content of them, but because they were

also drawn to resemble innocent people that she knew, and these ten strokes

were laid across her bare breasts. The thin wood bit deep into the soft flesh,

on the upper slopes, the tender underside, and four across the erect teats

themselves, Susan noting that this raised a satisfying response from the girl.

Helen was sent out to cut another switch, this time, not only naked, but welted

as well, her reticence noted by Susan, who added that the girl’s shame at this

public exposure was as effective as ever, despite the fact that there was no-

one within miles to see her nudity. The punishment was repeated, ten strokes

to Helen’s bottom, vaginal area, and her breasts, the fresh cuts on top of old

ones eliciting more cries and tears, just as the wanton deserved. There were

still chores to be done, even on Sunday, and the naked Helen was dispatched

to tend the animals, with a warning not to pleasure herself, or the punishment

would be doubled. Susan went to the garden to pick fruit and vegetables for

the evening meal, selecting two extra large carrots for Helen’s punishment,

and took them to the top field, leaving her basket to collect later.

Helen was just coming out of the field gate with her bucket of milk, and Susan

sent her to the forest edge to cut a hickory switch, to continue her discipline,

this time tying her to the “frame poles” with some pieces of spare rope from

the field gate. Susan tied her ankles first, which spread her legs suitably wide,

and secured her wrists to the top traces, facing outward, and then cinched her

tight enough to press her back firmly against the hedge. Joyce remembered

seeing two tall poles embedded in the hawthorn perimeter, and pictured Helen

with the thorns digging into her bottom, and scratching her back. The strokes

across her hips were delivered from the front, catching the sensitive inner

thighs, right into her groin, then directed upward into the girl’s spread cleft.

Using the end of the tougher hickory switch, inflicted a more severe bite, and

two cuts to the underside of Helen’s engorged clitoral shaft had her wetting

herself, as she ground her bottom against the spiked hedge.

Her breasts were just as effectively whipped with the end portion of the switch

getting to the inner surfaces of each tittie globe, followed by the outer edges,

and finally the sides, top and bottom of two extremely erect nipples. Having

finished with her daughter’s front, Susan turned her round and re-tied her, as

the freshly punished sexual places were pressed into the long cruel thorns.

Switching Helen’s bottom made her really lively, according to the report, with

the hickory reaching deep into the groove of her bottom, and the sensitive line

at the top of her thighs. When the whipping was finished, Susan pushed the

carrots she’d brought into her daughter’s bottom and sweet spot, working the

gritty shafts to their full depth, till just the green leaves were left outside, like

two tails. Helen had to walk back to the house like that, and the vegetables

were left in for the rest of the afternoon, and during the evening meal.

The next entry in the journal was Helen’s, and was much more descriptive in

detailing the punishment she’d been given through the day, her writing skills

very evident. She revealed that she was obsessed with sex, and since her

husband had left her, masturbation was her only satisfactory release, but she

had a very low level of self-control. The stories and drawings were her stand-

in means to gain relief, since she couldn’t write or draw well enough with one

hand, and she wouldn’t allow substandard work. They did inflame her base

passions though, eventually having to be dealt with, and she had introduced

some discipline scenes into the accounts, so that she could punish herself as

penance for her immoral behaviour.

Helen was glad that her Mom had found out about her nasty habits, and was

going to take her under control, just as her parents had done when she was

turned thirteen. Joyce would have loved to find an older account of how the

youngster was dealt with, and considered looking for other journals, but she

was too engrossed now to break off. Despite Helen’s admission that all of her

punishments were painful, and fully deserved, she often expressed her shame

in still feeling a level of excitement from them. At times her mind focused only

on the pleasure, but a well placed cut of the switch would remind her exactly

why she was being disciplined, and the humiliation of being spanked at her

age flooded back.

While Susan hadn’t mentioned it, the end of each of her punishment sessions

was covered by Helen, her Mom rubbing salve into her damaged flesh, a pot

of which was now carried in a pocket of Mom’s dress. It was rubbed in with a

vigour that was as much a part of the discipline as the switching had been, the

tenderest places suffering a second time as strong farming fingers dug deep.

Examining the state of her whipped skin was undertaken in exactly the same

businesslike way, the sore flesh squeezed and pulled about to see if there

had been any serious damage. Special attention was paid to Helen’s nipples

as they were stretched out, then her labia, both inner and outer, followed by

the clitoral hood being forcefully pulled back to inspect the swollen shaft right

down to its base.

Having satisfied herself that the punishment had been satisfactory, Susan had

taken her daughter into her arms, hugging her warmly, and kissing the tear

stained cheeks. The training imparted by discipline wasn’t reserved just for a

switching, but there was a preventative aspect as well, whereby Helen was

permitted to discharge her pent up sexual tensions. This was to make it easier

for her to exercise self control, since the daily urgency would be removed by

focusing on stipulated release. To this end, Helen was to remain naked, and

spread herself out on one of the chairs, her whip marked breasts and vulva

fully display to her Mom, who now specifically directed her daughter’s sexual

stimulation. Helen touched and fondled her most secret places, exactly as she

was instructed by her Mom, who sat in the comfortable armchair, watching as

the girl’s pleasure mounted.

Helen admitted that she knew this was to help impress the need for sexual

pleasure to be an unselfish act, performed for another’s benefit and, under

their control, not her own. Her Mom appreciated that she was still a beautiful

woman, with needs and drive that had no acceptable outlet, and was willing to

provide a situation for that need to be satisfied, in a loving environment. Helen

was taking the opportunity give her Mom the pleasure of seeing her daughter

enjoy those most intense feelings that every woman was able to achieve from

the touch of experienced fingers. Their pleasure was being shared, as it had

been designed by their maker, a giving experience, one to the other, and an

expression of selfless submission to another person’s will.

This was understood perfectly by Helen, on an intellectual level, the principles

having been explained and discussed throughout her life, both with Mom and

Dad, and her Grandparents as well. Of course they didn’t have any problem

with their desires, since each had a partner to share their pleasure with, and

at night, when she was younger, she’d heard plenty of sharing going on.

When her own desires had first manifested themselves, and young Helen was

struggling to cope, she was instructed in techniques to satisfy the urges. But

having to touch her private places in front of the whole family, on a Friday

evening, was a mortifying experience. She’d never grown used to it, and even

now felt intense humiliation that anyone but her husband could see her most

secret actions, even though it was her Mom, who knew her in intimate detail.

It had been different when she was married, and she could bring her husband

to his peak, taking his seed in her body, or all over it if the pleasure took her,

and submitting to the touch of his hand between her legs would make her melt

in helpless passion. Even having that pleasurable release denied was a thrill

in itself, knowing that it would be all the more powerful when permission finally

was granted. It had taken Helen some time to realise it was their bond of love

that deepened everything they did together, and yet the knowledge made it so

much sweeter. Despite all this, the man could still make her cringe in shame

by having her stand naked and presented after he’d removed every trace of

hair from her pubis. He would speak softly to her, describing her childish cleft,

and how it should be touched and fondled, or spread wide until it hurt, then to

be filled with the most mundane of objects, stuffed till it was fit to burst, and

Helen would cum from his mere words.

Susan knew just how to elicit the same response from her daughter, to raise

her to the very edge by describing what should be done to her, then making

the girl bring herself in check. Helen didn’t resent being addressed as if she

were still a teenager, it was something all parents did with their children, no

matter how old they were, they would never be anything but a child in their

heart. Her Mom took her back to her youth, instructing her in the ways to get

her cunny wet, even that childish expression adding fuel to the fire, then hand

something phallic to her, watching her daughter insert it fully, then pound it

into her depths. It had been a candle first, then the handle of a serving spoon,

and the other end next, the wider dish having to be forced through a little used

entrance, and turned several times, stirring her delicate insides. Eventually, a

last squeeze of her throbbing clitoris brought the longed for climax, her Mom

insisting Helen keep rubbing, twisting, and pinching the sensitive nub till her

third consecutive orgasm.

A satiated Helen was finally sent to bed, with a reminder to keep herself under

control, and Joyce put down the journal to do the same, but she couldn’t help

wondering if the older Helen was still driven by the same longings. With the

images of the book’s account foremost in her mind, Joyce brought herself to

orgasm twice, before she settled down to a deep sleep, hardly noticing that

the Guyver unit also made her climax every hour. She awoke in the morning,

rested, but once again coated in sticky girl juice, all over her thighs, titties and

fingers, her clit still tingling from her nocturnal excitement. This time there was

warm water still in the kettle by the fireside, so she was able to clean herself

in comfort, resisting the urge to linger with the soapy washcloth between her

legs, then got dried and dressed.

This would be her last day at the farm for a while, intending to return to the

campsite so she could checkout, then head home to organise the business of

raising money to buy Helen’s farm. It was a little early to be ringing Helen just

yet, and she’d had a thought about the story book, wondering what became of

it after Susan had punished her daughter because of it. Helen had most likely

taken it with her when she left, since it was rather sensitive material, but there

was a chance that it had been left behind, in which case, Joyce would love the

opportunity to read it. She’d considered asking Div to scan the whole house,

but she felt in the mood for a detective hunt, tracking down the evidence of a

young lady’s indiscretions, and exposing her deepest secrets.

She was fairly confident of finding it, since Helen had admitted being upset

after the funeral, and leaving some of the tasks to others, in addition to the

journal having been left on the table all these years. The first place to look

was the main room, so Joyce carefully examined every cupboard and drawer,

removing every item in case the book was hidden beneath something. She

even checked the furniture for hidden panels, and secret hiding places, with

no success, although she did find $500 in old notes, in a cookie jar on the top

shelf of the food cupboard. The farm journals, going back to 1908 when Phillip

Dawson made his first plans to move here and start a homestead, were on

the shelves beside the fireplace, in amongst dozens of novels, reference, and

school text books. There were even workbooks the children had used in their

studies, with comments about their progress from both parents.

Finally, the bottom dresser draw in Helen’s bedroom revealed four volumes

hidden in the folds of spare blankets, each book tied with a cross of pink

ribbon, one of which had a handwritten note tucked beneath the bow. The

note read, “Not to be opened by Helen Dawson, on pain of a severe spanking,

and other painful punishments. This means you, young lady.” Since the note

was directed to Helen, Joyce had no qualms about opening the book, at first

just skipping through blocks of pages, from front to back. The format was just

as Susan described it, predominantly separate stories, with some exceptional

illustrations to enhance the narrative. The themes varied from warm, sensitive

romance, through wild, passionate sexual excess, coercion and blackmail,

rape and cruel torture, into wartime atrocities. No one situation predominated

and most of the scenarios stayed within their boundaries, with only one or two

of them straying into a less intense or more severe series of events within a

storyline. Most of the characters were different in each story, well developed,

and connected, with no continuity errors, although Joyce was only scanning a

small set of entries, so she may have missed some things.

The illustrations fascinated her, including several styles that she herself liked,

such as overdeveloped genitals, and recurring submissive scenes, and while

most of the characters had only first names, a lot of the drawings were given

surnames and professions, such as doctor, teacher, or banker. Joyce thought

these were probably the ones Susan had said were specific people Helen had

known, and interacted with. In several drawings, Joyce recognised familiar

landmarks, like the waterwheel, and the livestock enclosure, also a mother

and daughter pair, kept cropping up, as did a rural farm setting, obviously

links to Helen’s home life. It was difficult to discern if some of them were true

stories or fiction, but the hazel and hickory switches cropped up, being tied

against a thorn bush hedge, and lots of forced, humiliating, public nudity.

Joyce decided she was going to take this book and the current journal home

with her, purely for background research of course, and study it at her leisure,

until she could return as the new owner. Speaking of which, she wondered if

Helen had come to a decision, and asked Div if he thought it was a suitable

time to ring back and enquire. Surprisingly, he reported that Helen had just

seen the doctor on his rounds, and had nothing scheduled until a CAT scan at

11am. The rest of her day was lunch at noon, with a not too appetising menu,

then personal hygiene, with two female nurses in treatment room 7, one of

whom had a diary note at the same time for TENS, high volume, and insert 3.

It would appear that they had a window for discussion now, or it would be late

afternoon for the next one, and Joyce had wanted to be on her way by then.

Div made the connection, and Helen answered within a few rings, saying she

was pleased to hear back from her again, after Joyce had introduced herself,

but her voice sounded uneasy, so Joyce asked if it was OK to talk, or if it was

an inconvenient moment. There was just the slightest of pauses before Helen

said to go ahead, it was just that the doctor had left minutes ago, and now the

nurse wanted to change her out of her night clothes. Joyce offered to call her

back again when they’d finished, and Helen just giggled and said she had got

plenty of time right now. She went on to explain how busy the nurses were, as

soon as they’d got her undressed, they were called away, before they had any

clean clothes sorted out for her, so now she had to sit and wait. Joyce said

she empathised with her, and while the conversation went on, the visor came

over her face, with “hospital CCTV” on the top, and an image of a nursing

station in full colour, hi-def. Div zoomed on the name badge, identifying the

nurse as being assigned to Helen, then pulled back to show two nurses who

were talking to a handsome young porter. There was no sound, but a window

showed a text summary of the conversation, basically social about last night’s

party.

The TV image rotated to show the edge of an open room door, with the bed

out of shot, then changed to another camera, that had an unobstructed view

right into the room, with the bed centred. A zoom shot showed the name plate

was Helen Dawson, and then pulled back to frame a sixty year old woman sat

on top of the bed sheet, totally naked, but with a firm, trim figure for someone

of her age. She was propped up, with one hand on the bed, and the other

holding a phone, her small, pert breasts uncovered, and her feet were spread

to each edge of the mattress, fully displaying her shaven pubis and neat slit.

The image disappeared for a second, “pedestrian traffic in corridor” popping

up on screen, then Helen’s eyes could be seen following someone who had

just walked past her door.

Joyce and Helen had continued chatting about the casual way medical staff

would expose nude patients to unrestricted view, mostly to other staff, but on

occasion, where the general public could see them. Helen then changed the

subject to the sale, saying she was never sure when she would be taken for a

treatment session, or more tests, so she wanted Joyce to know that she’d be

happy to accept her offer. She didn’t know when she’d be able to get to see

her attorney and start things rolling, or if she’d be well enough any time soon

to go and sign the papers. Joyce told her not to worry about such things, her

own attorney had a branch in New Jersey, and she would instruct her to make

things go as smoothly as possible, hand delivering any of the required papers

for Helen to sign.

There was a chance that Joyce might be near New Jersey in a week’s time,

and she’d like to visit with Helen if that was alright, just to tell her personally

how much she appreciated her decision. She’d been grateful that Helen said

she would sleep on Joyce’s offer, and that she was happy to take the asking

price of $70,000, without wanting to hike it up with extras. Joyce broached the

subject of outstanding property taxes again, asking for Helen’s agreement to

allow her to settle the debt in addition to the sale price, with a transfer into the

county office account. Helen would need to regain title from the foreclosure

proceedings in order to pursue her side of the sale, and Joyce had very much

wanted to make a gesture of appreciation to the pioneer spirit that had built

America.

Graciously, Helen accepted the terms, and the assistance of Joyce’s attorney

in keeping things moving, offering to ring her own attorney this afternoon, and

give him authority to proceed within the terms they had just discussed.

Now that the legal business had been concluded, Helen wanted to ask a few

questions, having missed the farm these last few years, more than she had

originally thought she would. Joyce told her about feeding the livestock, and

gave Helen an inventory, making her really happy that the cattle had been OK

to still breed, but still not mentioning anything about the realtor’s negligence.

She didn’t want to upset Helen over it, and she had plans of her own to draw

some recompense from the company if they tried to levy charges for a service

they’d not provided.

Helen explained that when Susan died in 2010, she’d been very upset losing

her Mom, despite her declining health giving plenty of warning, and then she’d

moved to her Aunt Pat’s because she was ill as well. She’d not expected it to

be a long term arrangement, maybe a few months, a year at the most, but

with her aunt’s family having moved overseas, things just seemed to drag on

and on. At the time, Helen had got the house closed up, intending to return to

set up the livestock for overwintering, but ended up getting the realtor to have

someone visit each month. She still hadn’t been back, but she would like to

visit one last time, if Joyce was amenable, and while she knew it was a big

thing to ask a stranger, she would dearly love to have her ashes interred with

the family, under the big oak tree.

There would be no problem with that at all, Joyce assured Helen, in fact she’d

consider it a great honour to have her visit for as long as she wanted, and as

far as end of life arrangements were concerned, Joyce felt that Helen had

more right than anyone to rest with her family. There was so much that must

have happened on the homestead, and now Helen was the only person who

knew those stories, which Joyce would love to have her share. Helen agreed

it would be nice to relate the family tales again, which she always enjoyed as

winter evening entertainment, except she could now be the storyteller.

As they were talking, Joyce watched two nurses enter Helen’s room, at which

point the woman excused herself for a moment, and Joyce could hear all the

background conversation as Div adjusted the volume. The nurse told Helen to

lay back and continue her call, as she didn’t get many visits, and they didn’t

want to interrupt, but they still had jobs to do. Helen came back on the line as

Joyce watched her on the cctv lay back, with the phone to her hear, and the

nurses spread her knees really wide apart. Helen had apologised for the slight

interruption, telling Joyce that her nurse had discovered another good reason

to maul her private area, and to please excuse any squeaks she might hear.

While Joyce explained that she’d checked the farm house was OK yesterday,

finding the door frame had sprung, and released the lock, so she’d slept in her

bed, and hoped she didn’t mind, but she would lock the door when she left, as

she’d found a spare key in the kitchen drawer. Helen said that was fine, and

she didn’t mind Joyce sharing her bed, because she sounded such a lovely

girl, and was being very kind to her. Joyce thanked her, and said she had

fixed the door, using a piece of wood to wedge the frame back into place, so it

would be secure. She heard the nurse say something to Helen, and could see

she was holding up a shiny rod, then Helen moved the phone from her mouth,

and asked her to please use a smaller one. She saw the nurse slap Helen on

her pubis, hearing the smack over the phone, then Helen told that she was a

naughty girl, and would take what she was given. Asking if everything at her

end was alright, Helen answered that they were putting a catheter in, and

Nurse Sarah always thought she needed stretching first, since she had a tight

pee hole, but she always used a big sound, and worked it in for quite a while.

The monitor was showing a perfect view of the procedure as the nurse slid the

steel rod in a few inches at a time, stopping to either spin it round, or rotate

the end like a crank. Helen’s voice kept fluctuating with each movement, and

Joyce would ask if it was hurting, and how far had it been pushed inside her,

Helen answering each question without complaint. Helen never made any

move to object to her treatment, and the nurses seemed very comfortable with

making the procedure as rough as possible, asking a few times if she was OK

with it, but often adding a denigrating comment. They would emphasise how it

was going to be painful, then brush it aside, or apologise for how humiliating it

must be, naked and on display like this, but stand and talk to a cleaner without

attempting to cover her up. When the catheter was installed, and secured with

strong adhesive tape, in a cross over Helen’s bare labia, the camera zoomed

in close, showing fingers rolling and stretching Helen’s clitoris quite severely.

Watching the scene on her monitor, Joyce heard Helen gasp, then told her in

a firm tone, to explain what the nurses were doing at this moment. Helen said

the nursing staff considered her button was too large, and kept interfering with

the treatment, so they tried to keep it out of the way. Today they were using a

set of metal clamps, and Nurse Sarah was pulling it away from her body, very

hard, so they could get the first clamp right at the base of the shaft. The clamp

had a groove in each side, lined with short, blunt spikes that would grip on her

clit so it didn’t slip through, and Joyce watched it fitted to Helen’s stretched out

clitoris with consummate skill. Helen continued the description as three more

clamps were secured to her lengthening rod as it grew darker with the trapped

blood inside, and Joyce pressed her for more information, hearing gasps from

the phone with each twist of a screw.

When the nurses were finished tormenting her, they left her to drain out her

bladder, with her legs still fully spread, everything on view to passers-by, as

Helen and Joyce finished their visit, with promises to see each other soon,

and hopes that the sale would proceed without a hitch. They said goodbye

then hung up, Helen putting down the phone, and lifting the bed so she could

watch who was able to see her, while Joyce continued watching without her

knowing anything about it. Joyce asked Div to trace what was happening with

the security footage, particularly who was monitoring it, as the location of the

camera they’d been watching was far too conveniently placed. While Div went

about his investigations, Joyce was fascinated to watch how casually the staff

came and adjusted the sheet beneath Helen, moving her into more revealing

positions, but never covering her nudity, although the housekeeper did stroke

the stack of clamps. Another nurse came and gave her water through a straw,

her thumb rubbing across the top of the purple clit head, then checking they

were comfortable by turning them round, Helen’s thighs trembling as the shaft

was almost screwed off completely.

Div came back to say the cctv feed was monitored by the security team, with

mainly the reception areas being watched, along with exits, entrance doors,

and some corridors. Helen’s room was not one of their feeds, streaming over

to an offsite storage facility, ready to be retrieved in case of a complaint or an

accident. There were a total of six rooms of this type, close to a nurse’s

station but not to other patients, with a camera that had nearly full coverage of

inside the room, and that were not fed through the security office. These,

however, were not the only camera feeds that had a storage feed only, as all

treatment and consulting rooms, theatres and diagnostic imaging areas, were

handled in the same way. Div had checked recent access logs, and while all

six of these rooms were occupied, only three of them had activity records

which had been reviewed by staff members, and Helen’s was one of them. It

wasn’t just their room tapes that had been appraised, but a high percentage of

the treatment, x-ray, and medical examinations had been studied in some

depth, transferred to a hospital office, and replaced with a series of innocuous

tape loops.

Joyce asked for a list of who had accessed the feeds, when it had occurred,

which terminals had been used, and a cross reference to duty rotas. The list

wasn’t large, five senior doctors, including two consultants, six nurses, two

radiographers, and two porters, although the porters’ access was very limited.

Access times and terminals varied, the two consultants both shared the same

office, with regular access by both throughout the day, in between meetings

and patient appointments, but longer viewings in the evenings, three times a

week, on average. The other doctors usually accessed the feeds from clinic

consulting rooms, after the lists had been completed, but also whenever that

particular patient was actually being seen. Div had viewed a feed from a clinic

where the doctor was using a recording of the patient’s room two hours earlier

to direct his examination, compounding the abuse that the nurse had already

inflicted. The radiographers checked the tapes between appointments during

the day, which was sometimes quite a lengthy break, and several evenings,

but they were denied access to the doctors’ consultations. Nurses worked a

shift system, so their activity was throughout the clock, but followed the shift

pattern, using a nursing station terminal at night and any empty room during

the day.

When Div matched viewing times to door access control, there was a slight

anomaly, which resolved to a little used side corridor with a locked door, and

an office there with a terminal that nearly all of them used. The terminal logs

indicated that there were often a high proportion of the group present during

viewing of footage that was normally outside of their permissions, and the

sessions often lasted several hours. It wasn’t only the raw camera feeds that

were played though, when one of the consultants was present, he would have

a standard video media presentation streamed from the computer in his office.

There was sophisticated security layer around part of the hard drive, but Div

had easily by-passed it, and examined visual editing projects on a significant

number of patients. Some of the projects, about 10%, were dated before this

consultant joined the hospital, but his employment history matched them with

three of his previous posts, so this was a long running hobby of his.

It occurred to Joyce that this was a very involved operation, for mere sexual

titivation, and one that carried a serious threat to the career of all involved, let

alone the invasion of privacy, and medical confidentiality issues. She asked

Div to investigate any outside connections with the schedule of events so far,

for a profile comparison of all the patients involved, and if she could see some

of the completed editing projects. A list popped up on the monitor, sorted by

oldest first, titled with the patient’s first name, age, and a medical condition,

then running time, which ranged from 30 minutes, to several hours. Joyce

picked the first one, “Amy - 18 - Hysterectomy”, and watched a very poor

quality video, shot on hand held, and mounted cameras, with short captions

between scenes to fill in the storyline. The production was apparently from the

St. Mary’s Hospital, Atlanta, with a list of the doctors and nurses involved in

the story. Amy was a runaway, brought in with stomach injuries, homeless,

selling her body on the streets, no money, and no insurance, all of this being

explained by a good looking young nurse, reading a set of medical notes.

The scene changed to an emergency room, with lots of equipment around, a

table full of surgical instruments, but with boxes stacked here and there, then

shifted to a gurney with a young woman laid on it. She was dishevelled, with

dirty clothes, one red high heeled shoe, and looked extremely disoriented as a

doctor told a paramedic they’d take care of her. Two nurses cut off all of her

clothes with scissors, shredding them to pieces, including her bra and panties,

then left her naked on the table while the camera filmed them taking her vitals,

always with either breasts or pussy well in the shot. It looked like a full breast

exam was performed, her labia pulled wide open to examine her vagina with

two fingers, then her clitoris, pulling the hood right back, and a temperature

reading taken with a thermometer inserted deep into her urethra, and just left.

The camera showed the doctor inspect a wound below her ribs, that seemed

to have been sewn up with green embroidery thread, then press her stomach

and declare that she had severe internal bleeding, and wouldn’t survive the

night.

The scene changed to two nurses giving Amy a sponge bath while a nun in

full habit and rosary explained that there was no money to give her a catholic

burial unless she signed an organ donor form. After much persuasion, Amy

put her name to the papers, quite a lot for such a simple request, and then the

nurses moved in to remove her pubic hair, a lengthy process, filmed in great

detail, until the girl was perfectly smooth. The doctor came in and gave her a

sedative injection, as the nurses strapped her wrists and ankles to the table,

put an oxygen mask on her face, then lifted the head of the bed. Everyone

then left the shot, a door was heard closing, and then opening again, and a

porter came in, dropping his pants, and proceeded to fuck the fully restrained

patient. There was a procession of six different men taking their pleasure with

her, leaving her dripping and coated in spunk.

There was another caption letting the audience know that twenty minutes had

passed, then the medical team returned to check the patient, declaring her fit

for the initial procedure, vitals weak, but sedated. Joyce was shocked to see

the doctor remove the girl’s outer labia with a scalpel, the nurse cauterising

the wound to prevent bleeding, while Amy moaned in the background, her hip

and leg moving the short distance the straps allowed. The doctor and nurses

were careful not to block the camera, and one or two shots showed the terror

on Amy’s face as she underwent a full circumcision, both sets of lips, clitoral

hood, and the clitoris itself. However, it wasn’t just the tip, or clitoral shaft that

was cut away, the doctor made a deep incision in both sides, totally removing

both legs of the crura, along with the complete clitoris. As if to add insult to

injury, the nurse showed Amy the structure they had just removed, telling her

it wouldn’t get her into any more trouble, and Joyce could see the girl’s tears.

Saying there were still non-lethal organs to harvest, the doctor gave poor Amy

another shot, and she seemed to revive a little as they now made an incision

across the line of her pubic mound, then vertically upwards. This flap was now

folded over onto her tummy, the nurses swabbing away any traces of blood

that would impede the view, and double ended hooks fitted to hold it in place.

The doctor now narrated as he severed a series of suspension ligaments, and

finally pulled the girl’s reproductive organs into view, pointing out each of the

component structures. Massaging the ovaries, he expressed several eggs out

of each one, telling Amy how much they would fetch in the baby market, then

snipped them free, followed by her fallopian tubes, each cut making her visibly

flinch in painful reaction. After a few carefully placed ties, Amy’s bladder was

taken out of her stomach, then another incision round the entire vulva, and the

remains of her uterine organs were lifted, and placed on her tummy, beside

her bladder and ovaries.

After a suitable time panning across the items removed so far, the procedure

moved on to a similar destruction of the girl’s breasts, one having the central

milk producing system removed like an apple core, the other being split in four

down to her chest, then folded back like a flower. There were more shots of

Amy’s distressed face, her eyes showing signs of the drugs used on her, with

the final image being of the monitor as her vitals slowly dropped to a flat line.

Joyce wasn’t sure how much of this video was real, and how much was made

up of special effects, but the surgical parts were very convincing, and having

witnessed the treatment Helen had undergone, she wouldn’t put it outside the

bounds of being genuine. She watched the others on the list, only one of them

ending in the death of the patient, but there was a wide range of hospital tasks

and procedures that were taken to extremes. Some of them were done with

the compliance of the subjects, as with Helen, but in many scenes there was

obvious resistance, coercion, and threats, followed later by a return to normal,

as if nothing had happened.

She’d asked Div to investigate any outside connections the staff might have,

and for the most part he’d found nothing more than a couple of hospital drug

sales by one of the nurses, and a slight gambling habit with a porter. It proved

more successful with the five doctors, the three juniors all having disciplinary

notes on their records in previous posts, one of them with this hospital when

he’d first started. When he accessed the relevant records, all of the events

had been resolved, most being dropped due to lack of evidence, much of it

having been unavailable for the review board. Despite all his resources, Div

could find few tracks of what had happened, other than most of the suspects

had tenuous connections with two consultants, leading to the conclusion that

they’d all been covered up. The net was spread pretty thin, and it would take

more time and resource to follow all of the leads to their conclusion.

The consultants were both talented and well respected individuals, with long

records of excellent accomplishments, both medically and socially, and were

financially stable. The computer records involving the video tapes and abuse

contained very little information outside of the cases themselves, other than a

summary of each treatment regime having some anomalies. The first thing

Div had noticed was that certain summarised items had no corresponding

entry in the notes, and when he tried to establish a timeline, for further checks

to pursue, it seemed that the summary had been created well before any of

the recorded treatment had commenced. Digital analysis had revealed small

fragments of email formatting, and copy/paste traces, as if it had been taken

from a pre-dating message system.

“It’s a shopping list!” Joyce exclaimed, “They’re being sent requirements, then

finding suitable patients to build a specific treatment regimen around. I said

this was much too organised to be a casual hobby, it’s engineered, all of it.”

Div couldn’t see any evidence to support Joyce’s claim, and told her so,

asking for her deductive reasoning, so that he could verify it.

“I don’t have any, Div,” she replied, “not a single shred. It’s just Gestalt. The

knowing, without knowing. Female intuition.”

Div was even less convinced. “I’m telling you, Joyce, none of these fringe

claims had ever been substantiated, not in all the research I’ve come across

during my many years of service. Believe me, that’s a lot of material.”

“Alright, mister know-it-all, I’ll prove it.” Joyce countered, “How many accounts

in human history record the appearance of deities out of thin air?”

“One million, four hundred twenty three thousand, six hundred and three,” he

quickly responded, “none of which have any documented proof, or supporting

evidence.”

“OK, smarty pants,” Joyce taunted, getting up to stand in front of the mirror,

“I’ll prove it to you. Turn on visual recording using only the sunglasses.”

Watching as the visor reshaped itself into stylish eyewear, Joyce began to

recall the appearance of the bear when she’d been hiking a few days ago, its

mental image of raw power pumping adrenaline into her system within mere

seconds.

“Suit On!” she shouted, the remembered fear still edging her voice.

The Guyver bio-armour was deployed in less than a second, Joyce’s mirror

reflection changing from a young woman to an alien looking soldier, as if by

magic. She immediately said “Suit Off!” and it vanished with the same speed,

looking as if nothing had happened.

“Based on the human technology available now, where would you expect to

find the documented proof that this event had actually happened.” Joyce

asked her friend, “Just because you can’t prove something yet, doesn’t mean

it isn’t true. What is more likely is that you don’t have enough knowledge to

establish the facts. One of the strengths of human intellect, my cuddly friend,

is that we can reverse engineer something without a shred of proof, other than

our firmly held belief that it is true. So, when and where did the shopping list

come from? If the list had email formatting, I’d say webmail, either his phone

or his computer, so search both for footprints, and check if the two consultants

have their own personal computers at home.”

Joyce thought about what the logistics would be to fulfil an order that required

a young woman to have her reproductive system removed like that. First thing

was access to suitable young women, either the emergency room, or one of

the city’s homeless shelters, perhaps an orphanage, although Amy would be

too old for that, unless she was a former resident. Joyce asked for these types

of location to be added to the search, then realised the victim would need to

be alone, with no-one to notice the fact she was missing, so included that in

the criteria as well.

What sort of customer would want these videos, certainly a niche market, with

very little social contact, but the thing they would have in common would be a

need for a very select supplier. Here was another piece of the jigsaw, a video

distributor, most probably porn or adult shops, maybe internet, though the risk

of a sting would be high. This material would be small volume, therefore high

price, and because of the invasion of privacy, and potentially illegal nature of

what was being filmed, that would hike the price even further, so a top end

customer looked very likely.

Financials were the next area, such as how would it be paid for, the safest

was cash in hand, but someone might risk hiding the payment as something

quite innocent, and do it electronically. That could be checked with an intense

audit, far above the normal accountant methods, or even IRS for that matter.

That would take care of incoming finance, but what about sharing the profits

across the team? How many of them were in this for profit, and how many had

only physical and psychological needs to satisfy. Joyce asked to Div to start

off a financial audit on all of the team, including salary above grade, expenses

and overtime, and any other benefits they received.

It wasn’t long before Div gave her the profile comparison of all the patients

who were involved, next of kin being a major factor, or rather lack of it, only

two of them having named individuals. These two had both proved to be older

relatives who, it turned out, had maintained very little contact with the patients

for many years, so would pose no threat to the enterprise. First contact wasn’t

quite so clear cut, randomly spread across ER, three homeless shelters, and

a couple of Rehab clinics, but she’d been right about Amy and the orphanage.

She’d left a Catholic children’s home only two years before she died, records

having her placed in household employment with on-site accommodation, as

a Nanny. The employers had moved overseas eighteen months later, records

in emigration showing only parents and two young children, with no mention

of Amy after that. The consultants were linked to all of these establishments,

working in ER when those patients were admitted, or seeing them after their

admission, and either a patron of the others, or closely involved with those

who managed them.

The ER patients were the only ones who had been officially admitted to the

hospital, none of the others having any medical record other than the one on

the doctor’s computer, which were probably fakes. Div ran a quick check, and

found numerous inconsistencies, a different name cropping up in sections that

weren’t linked to the summary at the front, the shopping list, but any request

or workup sheet that was a requirement appeared genuine at face value.

Scenes from the video were sometimes shot in generic treatment rooms,

which could be anywhere, although Div reviewed the layout of the locked area

where the team held meetings, finding most of the detailed film areas were in

that corridor. There were several wider shots, such as a large operating suite,

a CAT scanner and x-ray machine, that would need to be filmed in the main

hospital area, and some room shots such as Helen’s cctv footage. Div also

found two sections of corridor that were included in most of the videos, from

both directions, high and low angles, and with different equipment lining the

walls. There was also raw footage at the offsite location of the two porters with

various signs, fitting them up in those same corridors, at dates and times that

matched the video footage to within a few hours. The location was further

confirmed by an electrical enclosure from the corridor, and in the film, having

a hospital maintenance sticker with a date stamp that varied to match the film

it was featured in. The remainder of the footage from security, showed all the

other traffic in this area to occur only on Monday mornings, hospital rota sheet

appointments confirmed this to be the case.

It was several hours before Div found the connections he was looking for, in a

single cell phone number both consultants shared with the owner of a series

of Adult Shops in the seedier areas of several nearby towns. Call logs gave a

narrow enough window to reduce the search pattern to a manageable size,

returning several invoices and payments to a company called Placebo, a term

for a medical drug or procedure that was harmless, and ineffective, without a

patient being aware of it. This company was merely a front, with only a bank

account to its name, taking a series of large customer deposits at infrequent

intervals, and more frequent withdrawals, of varying amounts, from an ATM.

Div had failed to turn up any hard evidence that linked the doctors to the

money, since the company was a totally electronic entity, with the initial forms

for identity verification belonging to a patient that had died at the hospital.

There was no way this could provide proof to establish a legal case, so he

would now allocate the investigation to a level three priority, and use all the

host down time in running searches and audits. He also set up a background

process to monitor the team’s movements across cctv, so he would know if

they entered any areas of interest they’d found, and also to watch over Helen,

because Joyce had a feeling she was being groomed for another production.

This filming issue had distracted Joyce from her train of thought at the time,

and since they’d now done all they productively could for the moment, she

asked Div what Helen’s prognosis was. The diagnosis was stomach cancer,

extending through most of the digestive tract as far as the transverse colon,

with a second primary site in the liver. There was no metastatic disease

present in any of the previous three years investigations, but the primary sites

would prove fatal within 6 to 18 months, barring any other complications. The

disease was too far advanced for surgical intervention, Radiotherapy, or any

of the Chemotherapy protocols available. Joyce asked if the Guyver unit could

help repair the damage, in the same way it had improved her own repair

system, but in cancer it was the host’s own repair mechanism that was at fault

by providing replacement cell structure that wasn’t required. He could perform

surgery to remove parts of the tumour, much more accurately than the doctors

could, but organ invasion was too extensive overall. Helen would eventually

die from malnutrition as the digestive tract failed to provide enough nutrient to

support the body’s needs, or from toxic overload caused by the liver failing in

removing sufficient amounts from her blood. The Guyver could only use the

available system to make improvements, which would be energy efficiency,

and improved function of the remaining healthy liver, at most providing her an

extra few weeks.

This was pretty much what Joyce had expected, but didn’t want to hear

because it made her feel so helpless, leaving her with only her original option,

which was to invite Helen to spend her final time back at home, her real home

at Still Valley. Joyce wanted this to happen as soon as possible, and told Div

to create a schedule for the fastest possible track, and to expedite as much as

possible, via email and phone, in his capacity as her personal assistant.

Property transfers required a lot of physical signatures on paper, so she would

have to be in place when they were needed, to avoid postal delays, and she’d

ensure couriers were available to deliver and return paperwork for Helen.

Deciding that she needed to relocate to New Jersey, Joyce set about closing

up the farm again, Div being a great help by recalling exactly how everything

had been when they first arrived, and returning it to that state before she left.

They joined the trail by the same overhead tree route, maintaining a set of

tracks that apparently turned back at this point, and returned to her starting

point at the bus stop. After the first mile Div told Joyce he was monitoring a

police transmission that had triggered one of his alerts concerning her rapist,

who had just escaped on his way to trial. He’d overpowered the guards with a

fabricated knife, killing one, disabling the other, and taking all their weapons,

then evading a road block, killing three officers, stealing their patrol car, and

crossing the county line. He’d crashed the next road block, disabling both of

those cars, and injuring all of the State Troopers with flying debris, but his own

car was seriously damaged, and had to be abandoned twenty miles down the

road. He’d concealed it exceptionally well, down a side road, doubled back a

couple of miles, then headed across country, already miles outside the current

search area. That was early this morning, and he was proving very proficient,

having already found food and water in the forest, and making very few visible

tracks to follow.

Div would have left the matter to the police, just monitoring progress, but an

extrapolation of his current route would pass very close to an isolated girl

scout camp that had recently seen a troop of 9 to 16 year olds arrive. There

was a clear and present danger that this man would inflict serious harm on

these girls, having already demonstrated a total disregard for other people.

Local resources would not be able to contain the situation, since the search

team was fifteen miles behind him, proceeding slowly, so would never catch

up, and air support had two machines down for repair. The other two were at

the far end of the State, three hours away, but needing to refuel first, whereas

Joyce could get to the scout camp in just over an hour, while the rapist would

still be over five miles away. Joyce had been studying the visor display seeing

that she was presently 54 miles away, so there was no way she could cover

such ground in an hour, even with the Guyver’s enhancements.

They wouldn’t be relying solely on Joyce’s abilities, Div explained, she would

have to deploy the bio-armour in battle mode, then push herself to keep the

stride rate at near sprint speed, while the Guyver supplied the motive power,

and navigational support. Joyce was prepared to accept Div’s judgement,

since he knew the suit’s capability far better than she did, and she would put

in every ounce of effort that she could muster. Joyce gave the command, “Suit

On”, feeling herself wrapped in the full suit of armour she’d grown used to in

this last week, then, following Div’s instruction, commanded, “Set for Battle”.

She could feel the suit re-configure, and the visor display showed an outside

shot as she watched the main shielding thicken and take on more definition,

till she looked like a body builder. The Guyver unit explained that the changes

were not just in plate thickness, but a structural integrity force web was also

built through the material, and a force shield coated the outer surface. When

they encountered their target, Joyce would have to switch to this mode so as

to resist the weapons he had acquired.

For the moment, the most pressing requirement was speed of travel, so Joyce

gave the instruction to “Set for Speed”, and she could feel the suit lighten as

the image showed much of the bulk reduce, while the wrist and elbow blades

retracted completely. The Guyver pointed out that not all the forward armour

had been removed, because even with enhanced navigational support, they

were likely to encounter branches and small trees that couldn’t be avoided.

This might leave an easily followed trail of destruction behind, but under these

circumstances, it was unavoidable. They were not following the shortest route

either, but heading ten miles off course so they could reach an area of State

managed forest that had fire breaks cut into it. This would provide a twenty

yards wide avenue of tree free grassland, where the already light suit would

be re-configured again for another big speed increase, but with no obstacles.

The command for this was “Set for Pursuit”, which Joyce issued, watching the

front armour decrease, some of the bulk disappearing, but some of it forming

up round the legs and arms, where it would act like the muscles of a sprinter.

Joyce was shown the changes in the navigation system, which was mostly

like the training run she’d done a few days ago, but the target now sat on the

line she was to follow, so she could anticipate the turns, and the bordering

trees were picked out so that she could see what she was trying to avoid.

Having tried a scan in a few different directions, so she was comfortable with

the graphics, Joyce set the suit back for speed, and began to jog along the

line displayed. When she was used to handling the suit enclosing her body,

she began to pick up the pace, skimming fewer trees as she went, Div also

adjusting the colour and definition of the course tracer to suit her reactions.

She wavered off the line a couple of times, trying to check her speed on the

display, so when she explained her need for feedback, Div increased its size,

and moved its position to be more in her field of view. She couldn’t believe

she was running through a forest at thirty five miles an hour, and keeping her

breathing at a high, but comfortable level.

As she turned into the firebreak at the designated point, she told the Guyver

to “Set for Pursuit”, feeling the shift in the weight of the suit, then the increase

in foot turnover as the legs picked up more power. An inset in the display now

showed that she would still be seven miles away when the rapist reached the

camp site, and the thought of what would happen to those girls set her heart

pumping adrenaline through her system. As she stepped up her pace, seeing

fifty five mph on the display, feeling the power rippling around her legs, Joyce

felt her inner self merge with the Guyver. She was no longer a girl inside a suit

of armour, she WAS the suit; they WERE the Guyver; raw, unstoppable power

that was under perfect control. She no longer had to move her legs to keep up

the pace, that was not the way she performed in a race, she focused on the

finish line, and being in front of the other competitors. In this case only one, a

red dot in a display, intersecting the wrong side of her position, and she asked

Div to put them both on the same line, side by side, as if she were chasing

him down.

Joyce no longer noticed the speed indicator passing sixty, sixty five, seventy,

she saw only the Guyver with a green dot on it, closing on the back of a cruel

rapist marked in red. She could see his face, smell his sweat, hear his breath

gasping from his lungs as she cruised comfortably past him, widening the gap

as she kept up this unbelievable pace. Within minutes she was approaching

the place their paths would cross, and dropped her speed as she neared the

tree line across the fire break from where her quarry would appear. She had

already discussed tactics with Div, agreeing that her biggest disadvantage

was a lack of experience with the suit’s weaponry, which could easily turn a

well-armed rapist into a hole in the ground. Despite Div’s persuasive demand

that this was a suitable application of justice in this case, it didn’t sit well with

Joyce to assume the role of executioner, so she wanted less drastic actions.

They were still six miles away from the girl scouts, so she would get several

attempts to subdue the man, and Div was confident that at the very least they

could either drive or lure him away from the girls. Joyce set the suit to battle

mode, and got Div to configure its appearance to resemble a somewhat bulky

police SWAT uniform, with full helmet and visor, and an M16 assault rifle that

actually fired laser projected force pellets. She took position by a small bush

to provide cover, along with a suit camouflage colourisation, and waited till her

target had walked to the middle of the fire break, leaving him without cover.

Changing the suit to black as she stood, Joyce demanded that he stop and

surrender his weapons, or be fired on, at which he opened fire with a police

rifle under full automatic, emptying the entire clip into her chest.

She’d been coached to offer a full front target, encouraging a spread of bullets

that would not be concentrated in one place, and to position one foot behind,

to brace herself against the impact, which she was assured the armour could

easily cope with. Joyce was firing measured shots, with her arms held high,

out of the expected stream of bullets, one to each leg, just above the knee,

the first merely a flesh wound, the second breaking the bone. The man had

staggered but remained standing, reaching for his second rifle, slung from the

shoulder, and as he brought it up, Joyce’s third shot hit the 30 shell magazine,

which promptly exploded, blowing a hole through his chest. Joyce checked to

confirm he was dead, though there wasn’t much chance of anything else with

a wound like that, then turned away, trying to rationalise her actions. Div had

to replay the encounter through the monitor, showing the man’s determination

to kill her without qualm or hesitation, as opposed to her intention to disable

him non-lethally. A further study of the final shot proved that Joyce had fully

targeted his upper arm at the moment of release, and it was the man’s own

actions that had placed the magazine in the path of the shot.

The pursuing search team was still eighteen miles away, on foot, struggling to

follow the meagre trail the man had left behind, so Div tuned in to the police

frequency, identifying himself as Special Forces, Covert Ops. He reported that

his team had diverted from a nearby training mission to support the search in

this area, having located the escaped suspect in a forest clearing, and gave

them the co-ordinates. They had taken heavy fire, and had tried to disable the

target, but a malfunction in one of his captured weapons had inflicted fatal

injuries, ending the incident. Div promised to provide extracts from the mission

log video footage, in order to complete the police report, but due to security on

his own team, he was vacating the area, and signed off. He duly sent them a

video stream, with an accompanying text report, by untraceable data comms,

and then planted a long branch into the ground next to the body, with a rifle

hung from it as a marker for the approaching search team.

Joyce wasn’t happy with the way things had turned out, but she’d been given

no other acceptable option, and hoped she could eventually come to terms

with taking someone’s life. The fact that she’d protected the lives of a dozen

young girl scouts went a long way to making it worthwhile, and now she had

to get on with taking care of another person in apparent danger. She set the

suit to Speed mode again, and Div navigated them back to their starting point

on the trail, but this time without the breakneck theatricals, and they made the

trip in three hours. She was back on the bus in another hour, with her panties

buzzing her through repeated orgasms as Div tried to recharge the power she

had expended during the rescue mission.

*****************

Footer :-

This story is fantasy, not based on any real events, and should not be re-

enacted in any way.

If you, the reader, do not know the difference between reality and fantasy,

then leave now, and seek urgent medical help.

Feedback, and constructive criticism, is very welcome

via mykatiekittykat at yahoo dot com

Continued in part 3

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