(As always, I solicit any and all comment, positive or negative. Please take a moment to provide some feedback. You may also wish to search out some of my other stories. There's about a dozen of them. )
The whole National Micro campus was buzzing with activity and had been for weeks. Years of scientific effort and hundreds of millions of dollars in research grants had been expended on "The Device" and now it looked as though all that time and money would actually yield a tangible result. Construction of the top secret device had been conducted under the tightest security since the Manhattan Project. Each subsystem of the apparatus had been engineered by a separate subcontractor.
Subcontractors were chosen for the lucrative contract based not only on their engineering expertise, but on their corporate reputation for discretion as well. Severe financial penalties for loose-lipped indiscretion in the form of complex ironclad legal clauses and sub-clauses were written into each sub-contract. Nobody was talking to anybody else and nobody would.
Everybody was talking to National Micro Research Associates, the mega-corporation and project general contractor. National Micro was responsible for the collection and integration of the various subsystems. Additionally National Micro was tasked with the final assembly of the top secret machine and then the rigorous testing protocols needed to assure that the device actually did what it was designed to do.
Even at NMRA fewer than three dozen people had anything more than a few pieces of the puzzle and less than half of them had access to the actual machine. Only one, Steve Wilkins, knew the project from top to bottom, including the technical specifications for the device's circuitry. As the original founder of National Micro, Steve was not only the top nanotechnologist in the world and majority stockholder in NMRA, but one of the world's richest and most reclusive men as well. His home laboratory was equipped every bit as well as any lab on the planet, including those at National Micro. One could say reasonably that Wilkins' lab was better equipped when he was actually working in it because it was his extraordinary mind that provided the inspiration and insight that guided the precision machinery.
Known simply as "The Device," the project which was the focus of so much effort was a machine which could shrink inanimate objects to a fraction of their former size and mass. Later these "mini-objects" or "MO's" as they were called by the technicians, could be resized to their original size and mass. The first round of testing, completed just a week before, had been an unqualified success. Blocks of different solid elements had gone through several shrink and restore cycles with no detectible ill effects. As far as anybody could tell, there was absolutely no before-after difference. More complex inanimate objects and mixtures would be scheduled for minimization trials later.
Testing on living things would come much, much later ... or so the overseers from the government thought.
Naturally, a project of this magnitude had to be overseen by the federal government. The national security implications alone required that the entrepreneurial creators of The Device be kept on a short leash. The government's intelligence and oversight with respect to the production of "The Device" was very good. In fact it was exactly as good as National Micro wanted it to be. The legal and contractual aspects of the project were open books to the government inspectors and one thing these government overseers had mastered was accounting. Spreadsheets were their specialty.
When it was applied to the actual science employed by The Device governmental oversight became more problematical. Anyone who knew anything at all about minimization was already employed by National Micro or one of its subsidiary companies and currently making very good money in that employment. There were no genuine top level minimization scientists left to serve as government watchdogs. Nobody wanted the job. After all, why would a scientist want to watch, for short money, science being done by others when they could actually be doing that same science themselves and for excellent money?
The government science overseers were second-teamers and all sides knew it.
It was always better to be on the inside than on the outside looking in and so far as The Device was concerned Steve Wilkins was the penultimate insider. It was his vision that committed his company to minimization research in the very beginning, long before his competitors. By the time Precision Analytics and the other engineering companies found out what was happening at National Micro they were maneuvering for second place- a distant second place. In short, Steve Wilkins was the alpha and omega of miniaturization research.
As usual, Wilkins was way ahead of everybody. Before testing on rocks and metals had even begun at NMRA he had independently re-engineered the original device to a hand held version about as big as a "super soaker" squirt gun. The power needed to run the "Mini-gun," as he called it, fit into a standard sized backpack. The only real limitations the mini-gun had were range (about 10 meters) and processing power and both of these limitations were directly related to the portability of its power source. The mini-gun could only handle objects no more massive than 75 kilograms, around 160 lbs.
As astounded as the scientific world would be to learn of the Mini-gun, Wilkins had another, bigger achievement which he also withheld from the government and the rest of the world.
Wilkins had already used the Mini-gun successfully to shrink living things.
Plants and small animals had already been miniaturized successfully but to date he had been unable to re-enlarge living tissue. For living things, miniaturization was a one-way journey. Once he had come up with the subroutines and tested the mini-gun on pieces of fruit he quickly moved on to insects and small mammals. He already had a vast collection of "minimals," as he called them in his own private miniaturized game preserve which he maintained in a large outbuilding on his estate. It was the most closely guarded building on the enormous gated and guarded property. Nobody was allowed in the windowless building: not security, not maintenance, nobody. He was the only one with access, period.
Climate controlled and as big as a collegiate field house, Wilkins had spared no expense stocking his private world of miniatures with exotic vegetation, including healthy samples of insectivorous plants, another of his many hobbies and one he had fostered since childhood. Small animals, fish, and, of course, insects populated the gigantic terrarium. Snakes and other reptiles completed his man-made ecosystem. If it was exotic, then Wilkins had to have it. Steve Wilkins had the money to acquire whatever he wanted through whatever back channels it might take.
Silent pumps kept the streams running and the pools filled. A sky blue ceiling and soft lighting accurately simulated day and night. From the inside of Steve Wilkins' miniature world it must have looked very much like the real thing.
Ever since early childhood, the nano-engineer had been different than the rest of his peers and he was certainly smart enough to know how different he was. In every grade since he first stepped into the schoolhouse, Steve Wilkins had been exceptional. He was always the youngest in class by as many as six years right on up through his post-graduate work. He was the smartest guy in every room he had ever entered since he was in elementary school. The only exception to this was the bathroom and even there he was in a dead heat tie with the man in the mirror.
Although Steve's I.Q. made learning very difficult things easier, it did not make learning the mathematics, engineering, and physics necessary to create an entirely new "science of the very small" called "nanotechnology" easy, just easier. Steve's attraction to the most complex and esoteric ideas had dominated his life since childhood, through puberty, and on into young adulthood. Nevertheless, with the exception of his colossal intellect, he'd always been more or less a typical guy. As a kid he was attracted to things like comic books and carnivorous plants. He suffered from acne and rejection throughout middle and high school. By the time he had received his doctorate degree Steve was still a virgin. Now that he was the CEO of his own company women were becoming more available to him, in fact, he was doing OK. Things were looking up.
Elizabeth Sullivan was the self-proclaimed Queen of the Corporate Spies. For fifteen years she had made a very good living plundering the safes and computer records of every corporation from American Airlines to Zebco Industries. Tonight she was aiming to steal from the great Steve Wilkins himself. Rather than dressing like a ninja, scaling the wall and bypassing security systems Mission Impossible style, Liz preferred to enter her target's premises legally. Tonight she would be in black, all right, but her outfit had no hood; tonight she wore evening wear. She was Steve's date.
The two had met at a cocktail party two months before and, despite the fact that Steve Wilkins was in his late 30s and possessing looks which could fairly be called "unremarkable," the beautiful Liz had chatted him up at the party until he asked her for her number. After feigning reluctance she had given it to him written it in deep red lipstick on a cocktail napkin. Now, she was walking up the driveway to Steve's home for what she hoped would be an impromptu overnight. While he slept she would find and crack his safe and steal its secrets. That was the plan.
As her stiletto heels clicked and clattered against the granite cobblestones on the front steps of the estate Elizabeth mulled over the fact that each stride of her long and very shapely legs brought her closer to her goal. If things went according to plan, and they always did, by this time tomorrow night she would be on a private jet to the West Indies in possession of her greatest prize. In another week she would be retired and set for life, all at the age of thirty-five.
Before knocking she took a moment to inspect her reflection in the antique glass window panes next to the massive oak main door. As she twisted from side to side to examine each beautiful profile she liked what she saw and more importantly, she knew that Wilkins was going to like what he saw. What wasn't to like? Liz had cared for her physical health all her life. Her skin was flawless. She exercised and trained every day because being in shape paid off twice. First, if she ever encountered trouble and had to defend herself or run away from danger, she could. Second, her trim athletic figure coupled with her magnificent long red hair and stunning facial beauty meant that she rarely ever had to run. Nine times out of ten she was just invited into the building that held her prize.
The red-headed thief's outfit was perfect. Her dress was skin tight, accentuating every perfect curve. She wore a minimal thong and a push-up black lace bra to accentuate her already ample bosom. She slowly ran her long fingers over her bulging breasts until her nipples stood out beneath the satiny material.
She was met at the door by her host who wasted no time scanning his guest from stem to stern. She was indeed, magnificent.
The evening went by quickly. Host and guest were equally charming. Bottles of expensive wine were finished. Unbeknownst to her host, occasional trips to the bathroom and self-induced bulimic vomiting kept Elizabeth sharp despite her giving the appearance of getting tipsier and tipsier. She had done this before. As the evening wound down and she got up to leave, she stumbled slightly. With slurred speech, she apologized to her host for her inebriated condition. "I guess you're going to have to call me a cab, Steve. I'm so embarrassed, but I can't possibly drive home," she bubbled.
"That won't be necessary, Liz," he replied. "This is a big house. I keep several rooms made up for guests and, if you would prefer, you can stay the night in one of them. I'm tired myself. Maybe we can finish our discussion over breakfast. May I call one of the servants to prepare you a room? It will be ready in a matter of minutes."
Elizabeth nodded in agreement and said, "Thanks, I guess I'd better." They both retired to their bedrooms for the night. After two hours, Elizabeth, still in her evening wear crept out of her bedroom and began searching for the safe. She was an expert and within a half an hour she had found the wall safe in the library and had just finished opening it. Suddenly the lights came on and her host was standing, arms behind him and not ten feet away from her. She still had documents in her hands. Elizabeth made no attempt to close the safe. She had been caught red-handed. She smiled and said, "Well, Steve," she cooed, "I guess I have some explaining to do."
"Not at all, Liz," he replied. "I understand completely. I know who you are; I know what you do for a living; and I know why you're here. Those papers in your right hand are fakes. They have no value, whatsoever. You've gone through this entire little stage play for nothing, I'm afraid to say. The only question remaining, I suppose is "what am I to do with you."
Hearing this, Elizabeth adopted her best and most seductive pose. "I suppose you're right, Steve, she said. May I suggest a trade? How about my freedom for this? She reached around to the top of the back of her dress and slowly, hips cocked to one side, began unbuttoning her dress. "Care to give me a hand?"
"No," he replied, I'm sure you can handle the job without me. You're doing just fine." Once she had finished undoing the final button she bent over and pulled the form-fitting outfit over her hips. She was playing her best card, and it was an ace. She righted herself, naked except for a five hundred dollar black thong and bra set. Her beauty was radiating like a nuclear furnace. No breathing man could resist this offer.
Except one. Steve took his time as his eyes slowly took in this most feminine of sights. "My, my," he said, "this is a tempting offer. What exactly are you willing to do for me to, shall we say, put this incident behind us Ms. Sullivan?"
"Use your imagination, Steve," she replied. If you can imagine it, I can do it better than anyone."
"I'll wager you can, Miss Sullivan," said the scientist whose eyes were riveted on the industrial spy. Confidant that he held all the trump cards, Steve Wilkins spoke to his house guest turned intruder-thief in calm, measured tones. I need you to know, Ms. Sullivan, that you are standing in one of the most secure buildings in the world. No one enters unless I wish it and no one leaves if I want them to stay.
"Well," Liz asked coyly, "I'm here. Would you like me to leave?"
"No," the scientist said matter-of-factly, "Why don't we go upstairs so I can 'use my imagination' determining your 'punishment.' The scientist stood with his right elbow resting on the bannister and motioned for the red-headed spy to ascend. Liz walked slowly to the bottom of the stairs where she paused and posed for her captor exuding just the right blend of trepidation and confidence. As she began to climb the stairs she allowed her hand to brush ever so gently against her host/captor's crotch. It was obvious that Steve's imagination was already in overdrive.
For his part, Steve took his time watching the thief as she sauntered up the stairs, hips swaying like the world's most beautiful metronome. Instinctively she made her way to the master bedroom. Once inside she waited for her host to follow. When Steve entered the room he went straight to the master closet and returned holding a half a dozen fine silk ties.
Instinctively, Liz extended her wrists, offering them to be tied. Steve set down the ties on the bed, all except one, and then motioned for Liz to put her arms behind her back. As she complied, Steve quickly secured her wrists together, forcing her shoulders back and causing her chest to stick even further out than it did naturally. Steve moved between the bound beauty and the bed and then forced the redhead to her knees, careful not to harm her.
In moments, the nanotechnologist's pants and then his underpants were on the carpet. He sat on the bed and, fingering his growing cock, motioned for the redhead to take it in her mouth. This, Liz did, showing not a smidgeon of reluctance. She knew that she had been caught and that there was a price to pay. What she wanted to know was whether or not Steve had other ideas in mind. Did he want a straight-up blow job or did he have something more theatrical in mind?
As she looked up into his eyes, again radiating the "Please don't hurt me" message, Liz slowly opened her mouth wide signaling her willingness to accept her captor's cock as punishment for her behavior. Her eyes never left his as Steve shifted his haunches to a more comfortable position. The scientist, while clearly average in looks, was just as obviously above average in terms of his endowment.
Once the tip of his cock met the tip of her tongue, Steve shuddered. Liz, who had much more experience sexually, curled her tongue and went to work. She licked the shaft and gently maneuvered first one testicle and then the second into her mouth sloshing them about like living oral ben-wa balls. Then, she released the sensitive sacs and caught her breath.
Steve gathered Liz's beautiful auburn red hair as it hung on either side of her flawless face and, after a short wrap around his thumbs, used her like a game controller. He turned her head so that she looked up into his eyes. Wordlessly he forced his thick cock into her mouth a second time and pumped rhythmically. Although his pace was demanding, Liz felt only minor discomfort. It was unusual for her to be controlled instead of in control. She liked it. It left time for her to concentrate on sensation instead of tactics.
After a while, Steve stopped pumping and withdrew his cock. He stood and offered assistance to the beautiful captive. As she came to her feet she thought how odd it was that there was no repartee between them. It was as if it were a simple case of crime and punishment. She did the crime and she was being punished, period.
Steve reached around and unhooked Liz's bra. It came off simply and without effort. Liz's breasts barely moved. They were large and firm. After he removed the thong, Liz was completely naked. Steve took a moment to examine her magnificent body. It really was spectacular. His penis remained firmly erect even as he used other $200 ties to secure his captive at the ankles as well as just above the knee and just below it.
A gentle re-orientation and the stunning superspy was supine on her captor's bed. Steve straddled her and hunched up so that his cock was directly over her cleavage. The scientist grasped her beautiful breasts and wrapped them around his cock. Instantly he felt the warmth and began instinctively to thrust and retract. After the judicious application of a little spit, the familiar rhythm of coitus was re-established and Steve's cock, surrounded by Liz's soft, warm, and abundant tit flesh, had found its proper place and pace.
Using his left hand to maintain the seal which kept Liz's tits in their proper position, Steve leaned back and used his newly freed right hand to probe between Liz's thighs. Though they were bound together by the silk leg ligatures, eventually her thighs parted enough to allow Steve's finger to find her clit and begin using her natural moisture to tantalize. Liz began to squirm slowly, allowing tiny, almost inaudible, moans to escape from her mouth.
Steve responded to her motion by increasing his thrusting as he continued to fuck the soft, slippery cleavage. The captive industrial spy could recognize her body moving steadily towards climax. More importantly, she saw a similar reaction from her partner. Truth be told she wasn't sure that she wanted the encounter to end. Although Steve wasn't handsome, he had proven to be a creative and more-than-competent lover.
(As always, I solicit any and all comment, positive or negative. Please take a moment to provide some feedback. You may also wish to search out some of my other stories. There's about a dozen of them. )