Obedience serum research

Scott knows what's happening is wrong.

Once upon a time, he was an idealist. He wanted science to change the world for the better, and he worked as hard as he could to make that happen. So hard, in fact, that he got noticed by a government agency important enough that it officially doesn't even exist. Top secret is an euphemist, the President himself is only made aware of this operation on a need-to-know basis, the budget is secret and controlled directly by the Department of Defense. Here, he and many others are allowed to use science to its fullest potential, to fabricate greatness regardless of the ethic conundrums that hold back human-made advancement everywhere else.

At first, he had been ecstatic to be here, the opportunity beyond his wildest dreams. But with time and observation, Scott has noticed things that increasingly kept him awake at night. Project teams could be dismantled from one day to the next over failing or insufficient advancements. Notably, team leaders have the unfortunate tendency to be fired from projects and never seen again. With an operation as confidential as this one, the human element cannot be trusted. It didn't take Scott long to put two and two together and figure out that those team leaders weren't leaving to go into the vacation type of retirement, but another, much more permanent and benefit-free one.

Which is why he stands here, palms sweaty, throat tight with guilt and anxiety, not moving to interfere. His reluctance to put the drug he spent the last decade developing on human trials has finally bit him in the ass. "It's too volatile", he warned the higher ups again and again, "the effects can last seconds sometimes, others, they never completely fade, and we can't predict that or explain why,". Scott once had two mice, genetic clones, given the same dose, at the same time, in all the same conditions, and one was under the effect for exactly 4 minutes and 28 seconds. The other one died from dehydration five days later, because the drug never lost its effect and unless he made the little rodent drink, it would not do it by itself. To test something like that on a human would be at best incredibly irresponsible, at worse, it could be murder.

But it's out of his hands now. Sergeant Major Killian is here, with his commission of armed, decorated thugs, and he won't take 'no' for an answer, not ever. Especially not when a particular technology brings out the greedy, cruel glint to his beady eyes. He accosted Scott and his team unexpectedly this morning and demanded demonstration after demonstration. Making the mice kill themselves and each other with the drug in increasingly violent ways is distasteful and regretful, but Scott could endure it. Alas, it wasn't enough.

"Her," the Sergeant points to Agnes, a cute, petite, quiet girl who has recently been hired for a low-level assistant job. She's a little slow, Scott has found, any slightly complex, scientific term goes right over her head. But she has been nothing but prompt, willing to learn, and kind to everyone. "Inject her. If it can't be used on humans, it's useless."

Useless. Scott knows what that means.

"What?" The girl asked, confused. She probably doesn't even know what exactly the drug they have been developing here does, which is why she frowns, but stays mostly calm.

"It will be just a pinch," he tells her, his voice kind. Hopefully, the drug's effects will only last long enough for a demonstration that will literally save his life. "It won't hurt, I promise."

Still, as she sees him approach with the needle, animal instinct takes over and she tris to flee. "No! Stop!" She screams. Two soldiers step forward and catch her, one holding each arm. In her struggle, Scott takes the opportunity to look her over. She's very pretty, but in an unassuming, not-flashy way. Sweet features still rounded by youth, pale, smooth skin and silky brown hair falling just under her shoulders. Her form, particularly, makes her stand out. She's a perfect, feminine hourglass. On the slender side, but with a small waist, medium breasts and child-bearing hips. He injects her neck with the drug so quickly she has no time to react to the pinch.

"The effect is instant," he says to the Sergeant. Leaning towards the girl, who has lost consciousness, Scott whispers in her ear. Stepping back, he speaks out loud. "Wake up."

Immediately, she stirs, returning to consciousness. As soon as she begins to struggle again, Scott orders her to stay still. "The subject responds to commands almost immediately, at the same rate necessary for the brain to interpret it. Under the drug's influence, the subject's brain functions atypically. The area responsible for choice is turned off. They are all action." If he has to do this, he might as well try to do it as well as he can. Scott hopes against hope that the Sergeant will be satisfied with a simple demonstration.

He starts small, ordering Agnes to do pushups. She has a good physique, not athletic, but he isn't likely to harm her like this, even if he orders a hundred of them. Her white shirt clings to her sweaty skin as pain and exhaustion don't matter anymore, and she keeps going for as long as he doesn't stop her. At last, when he does, Scott can't help but notice that she isn't wearing a bra, the outline of turgid nipples clear through the damp white cloth of her shirt. Next, he does a fighting demonstration. Three soldiers are ordered to contain her without breaking anything, and she's ordered to resist being caught. Her lack of regard for her own well-being proves an advantage big enough that she defends herself with effectiveness, even with no previous combat training. Things that Scott hasn't ordered directly are still all Agnes. She grimaces in pain, cries, moans, screams and begs him to make it stop again and again. Gritting his teeth, the scientist ignores her. Sergeant Killian has a smirk on his face.

"This isn't enough," he shakes his head, eyes glinting with malice, "unless we have a more… significant demonstration of her willingness to do anything, this project will be shut down."

Scott's heart jumps in his chest.

"W-What demonstration would be enough, sir?" He stutters, voice tinged with desperation.

His smirk widens, sadistic.

"I brought just the thing, doctor."

Ominously, he walks towards a large, black bag one of the soldiers is holding. It looks heavy, and Scott already feels sick with the expectation of the torture implements it must carry – if what the Sergeant had done to the mice is any indication, this will be the stuff of horror movies. Surprisingly, maybe because now they are dealing with a young, pretty, woman, what the man pulls out isn't designed to kill, not exactly, at least. By its size, however, it definitely can. It's a shiny, black, silicone phallus, over a foot long and as thick as a beer can. The monster cock bobs a little as the Sergeant passes it to a soldier, instructing him to position it on one of the white tables at the center of the lab. It has a large, suction cup at it's base, which makes it possible for the thing to stand by itself, attached to the table, its size obscene as it bobs and stills.

"Make her undress," the Sergeant orders.

Reluctantly, Scott turns to Agnes, who stares at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Take off your clothes, until you are nude."

"Please, don't!" She shakes with fear and shock, but is forced to obey. Scott feels horrible, knowing it will only get worse. With shaky hands, she starts with her shirt, sobs rising in pitch as her breasts are begrudgingly exposed to the room full of men. "Please, please, I don't want to, please, help me!" She begs, but goes ignored by all. Her heaving breaths make her breasts jiggle, Scott can't help but notice.

Agnes' fair features are flushed by the previous exercise, but shame burns in her features as well as she closes her eyes tightly to not look upon the lecherous faces around her. The men watch closely. A zipper, a button, and her black jeans are open to reveal a tiny, black thong. She wiggles out of the garment and change of angle shows the girl's gorgeous, generous bubble-butt, it's peach-velvety skin framed by the thin strings of her underwear. Despite his horror at the situation, Scott feels the unmistakable stirrings of arousal begin low in his belly.

"Pl-please," she sobs, inconsolable, humiliated. Helpless to stop herself, her fingers grab the edges of her panties and start to pull down. Scott stops breathing for moment, eyes focused on the neatly trimmed square of brown fur revealed as the cloth is pulled down slender legs. Her pussy is cute-looking, small but with chubby lips that look extremely lickable. The girl is now fully exposed to a room full of aroused males.

Drowning in guilt, Scott turns to the Sergeant.

"Could I order her to be quiet? To not feel embarrassment, or pain?" He pleads. Anything to make this more palatable.

The older man shakes his head. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, and there's already a bulge in his pressed, tidy dress pants.

"No. I want to hear her. And her feelings are inconsequential to this operation," he states, and Scott is sure he's nothing short of a psychopath. The soldiers, at least, stand around in a conflicted mixture of arousal and distaste, and his own team seems particularly troubled, since they've all gotten to know and like Agnes. She's a sweet girl who should never be subjected to this. "Make her go to the table and get that thing as deep in her as she can," the Sergeant orders.

Scott is a coward, he's too afraid of dying to stop this fully, but this is insanity.

"T-that is far too big for a girl her size," he stammers his argument, "it could seriously hurt her. Please. This has been demonstration enough."

"Do as I say or I will have you injected with the drug, doctor. I'm sure you would make an interesting demonstration, too," the threat is effective and Scott swallows dry, throat tight.

"Agnes," he can't look into her eyes as he speaks. Instead, he stares at her bare, small feet. "Squat over the table, then press the dildo against your vagina," as he speaks, she starts obeying.

She's crying so hard now that she has no breath to speak, only sob. Scott can't help but notice her gorgeous ass as she goes on all fours to climb the table, but soon she's squatting, her pink pussy spread open against the ridiculously large head of the silicone toy. As ordered, she presses it against her entrance.

"Let it penetrate you by dropping your weight on it," he instructs, hoping against hope that she has managed to produce some natural lubrication, but he isn't far from her and she looks dry.

"It hurts, please," she sobs, but obeys. It takes a few long moments, as the head is so large it slips against her vagina without penetrating. But the drug assures that she tries her hardest, regardless of pain or discomfort, so soon she drops her weight just right so that the head manages to slip inside her tight channel. She cries out loudly, a howl of pain, her crying turning hysterical again.

"More, go all the way down," Scott orders, his voice almost failing him due to emotion. He has never hated anyone like he hates the Sergeant, for making him do this to Agnes, and worse of all, for making him realize he can get a throbbing hard-on from it.

Agnes whimpers pathetically and obeys, the impossible length sinking inside of her until her lower belly is bulging obscenely. Scott worries that the toy will perforate her womb, then intestines, which would mean a very painful, slow death. He watches her descent like a hawk, if he sees blood, he will tell her to stop. When none come, he remembers to breathe in.

"I want to see the bitch fuck herself with it like there's no tomorrow," the Sergeant's language is shocking, even now, but Scott doesn't hesitate to obey anymore and relays the order.

Immediately, Agnes speeds up, legs powering her up and down as she impales herself on the toy again and again, always a little deeper, faster, until she's screaming and jumping on the toy with most of her weight. "Harder," the Sergeant orders, and Scott repeats "harder." And harder, and harder, until there's blood, but it's a small enough amount that he knows it's just a tear, so he orders her to keep going. She has no breath to cry, not when she's screaming non-stop.

"Please, this must be enough," he begs the Sergeant. But the man turns to him and he knows it's not.

"Tell me the command, the one you whispered to become her master."

For the first time today, Scott considers that, perhaps, dying might be better than this. Stepping away, he shakes his head, and is caught by two soldiers. While they hold him down, two others approach. "You don't want to find out the things I will do to you to get this information, doctor," the man warns, though he's nothing but stoically gleeful while the soldiers beat Scott up for the information.

Knowing resistance will only lead to needless pain, Scott gives in. He writes the code on a piece of paper, his hand trembling so much he has to try thrice to get it legible.

"Thank you, doctor," despite his words, the Sergeant's tone is mocking. He turns to Agnes, who's still fucking herself on the table, and whispers the numbers in her ear. Then, he steps back. "Stop," he orders.

Immediately, she stills. The only sounds in the room are her labored breathing and low crying.

"Get the dildo out of you, yes, like that, good girl," if there was any doubt that the Sergeant is sexually enjoying this, it's now gone. He palms himself over his pants, greedy eyes running up and down the naked, trembling girl. "Turn around," she does, showing her cute, bubble-butt to the room. "Lean forward, part your cheeks," the pink, tiny rosebud of her ass is revealed to all, completely exposed, and Agnes' sobs rise in pitch again. "Press the dildo to your asshole, slowly. Make it fit inside of your anus."

"NO!" She screams, but her body is not hers to control, and it immediately obeys, her weight falling as her body positions itself perfectly above the dildo so that its aim is exactly on her winking, tiny hole.

Scott feels hopeful that it's hopeless. There's just no way that thing will fit in her ass, not being that big and her so small, not with no prep or lube. But he shouldn't underestimate the power of his own drug. It makes the impossible possible by taking any regard to self-preservation out of the equation. It doesn't matter to Agnes' body that succeeding in the order might literally kill it. It will still try as hard as it possibly can. When slow pressure doesn't work as the dildo keeps slipping, she parts her cheeks more and begins jumping on the toy cock, harder and harder, using her weight and momentum to make penetration more likely. Finally she finds an angle at which the dildo doesnt slip to the side and starts slamming her thightly clenched asshole on it. Agnes screams with each attempt, even when when it doesnt penetrate, it stretches her bit by bit and the pain is excuriating. As she slams her unyielding asshole on it, slowly her poor butthole starts loosing this battle, as her cries and sobs echo through the room as she humps the dilso. The pressure she applies is so that the dildo bends to the side a bit when she pushes herself onto it. But when, at last, her body finds the right angle and force so that the huge slippery head finally pops into her tiny hole as a feral growl, turning into a scream filles the room.

Her legs are shaking and she is sweating and growling like a mad animal. Once the tip is in, the rest is a matter of time. At least, her previous pussy-fucking lubed the dildo with her bodily fluids some, so that there's a little glide between her ass and the silicone. Scott watches the length of the toy disappear inside the girl, his eyes wide, his cock throbbing even as he is sick to his stomach. Her cries are wordless now, the pain too great for her to be able to think enough to form words. It's all just screaming, sobbing, loud and impossible to tune out.

"Go deeper," the Sergeant order, his hand now down his pants as he masturbates to the sight of Agnes raping herself on a monster cock. "Deeper, girl, yes," he groans.

Scott looks around, noticing that some of the meanest-looking soldiers have followed their superior's clue and are touching themselves as well. As aroused as he is, Scott can't follow suit. Instead, he watches, leaking pre-cum.

"Now, go faster, fuck yourself like you mean it," if Scott thought this couldn't get worse, he finds he's mistaken. Agnes, under the Sergeant's command, starts slamming on the dildo with her whole body weight. The dildo is rigid but under the force of her slamming down on it, it bends to the side. Agnes is fiercely plowing her own ass, she's shaking under the effort and pain, and her cries turn to moans. "You can only stop when you orgasm," the older, sadistic man orders. It's particularly cruel, because it might mean Agnes will be forced to fuck herself like this until either the drug loses its effects or she dies.

Agnes, not being able to stop, humps wildly on the dildo, spearing and impaling her ass on the brutal invader, growling and screaming like a mad feral animal, slowly gaining more and more depth. It's only long minutes later, when he hears a change of pitch to her screams and a different rhythm set, that Scott understands. Agnes cries out, wetness dripping from her pussy, and stills with the dildo buried in her ass to the hilt and her ass touching the base, shaking and convulsing as her pussy is gushing onto the table. Shocked, he realizes it can only mean one thing.

"Took you very little time to come, girl." The sergeant says, then smirks. "Go on, start fucking yourself again…"

Scott's hand disappears under his open fly.