Laboratory 2B-1


As you look upon the slightly fidgeting girl, you feel a pang of guilt for ever considering taking advantage of the situation. You have no idea what this girl has gone through, and it would just be wrong to add upon that for your own amusement. Having convinced yourself of the moral rightness of your decision, you confidently descend into the examination area and begin to release the straps holding the spikey blonde's wrists. At the first touch, she begins to fidget and presses her mouth shut, body tensing. With gentle, soothing whispers, you tell her that you're here to help, and spare a moment from your work to remove the blindfold from her eyes. She smiles at you gratefully as her eyes are uncovered but says nothing, quietly waiting for you to finish. Once her arm is released, she quickly unstraps her other wrist, then sits up to undo the bonds around her ankles, jumping off of the table and hurrying over to her clothes, which have been folded in a corner. As she dresses in some kind of odd uniform reminiscent of a police uniform, blue and orange with high boots, the stomach cut out and large shoulders, finishing her ensemble with a pair of long gloves.

"Hey, thanks for the help," she says as she finishes, winking at you. "Since you've already done that much, why not help me get a little payback? That smirking little pussycat has it coming. What do you think?" You nod in agreement, and she claps you on the shoulder with a surprisingly strong grip. "Let's get going. If she's in her chair, you hold her, I'll take care of the rest. If she's near one of these little frames, well then, we just push her in..." The look on her face when she says that is a little too diabolic even for you, so you are relieved to see the lithe catgirl still sitting in her chair.

The two of you take her completely by surprise, with the spikey blonde leaping into her lap and straddling her, while you more sedately take her lithe wrists into your hands. She gives a little gasp of shock at seeing her supposedly secure subject snugged in her lap, wiggling fingers and giggling evilly, and with a glance at you, behind the chair and holding her wrists straight up, she realizes what has happened. "Look at me, I'm the one you should be concerned with," the blonde teases, poking a finger into the catgirl's furry navel. The catgirl lets out a little yowl of surprise and giggles sharply.

The spikey blonde, you realize with a bit of surprise, is very much an expert at this. Her fingers, even in gloves as they are, dance about the catgirl's waist, tickling her with breathtaking speed. Perhaps an expected result of this is that the catgirl, with her waist being tickled so mercilessly yet teasingly, is wriggling her upper body in a way that catches the eye. Intentional or not, the blonde takes her time in working her way upwards, being very methodical.  Next she begins to gently squeeze and wiggle her fingers against the catgirl's sides and stomach. This brings on a rather intense reaction and her wrists nearly yank out of your grasp as she begins to shriek and yowl with feline laughter.

Ever so slowly the spikey-haired blonde works her way up the catgirl's upper body, poking, rubbing, wiggling and tracing her fingers all around, and by the time she has started to gently stroke under the arms of the poor feline you notice that she has gone rather red with laughing and has stopped struggling. Remembering the rather demonic grins of the blonde, you wonder if now might be a good time to let the catgirl go...

What do you do?

She probably deserves all of this. Keep holding on to her.

All right already, that's enough. Let her go.