Wednesday

The workload was light and it would have been a quiet afternoon in the science lab, if not for my concern about Michael. To be honest, I was the guilty one, because I cheated on him when he was on a business trip. Now he is away again, in a different time zone, and I don’t want to cheat again.  We are doing “online sex” over the internet every day, and I make sure he comes each time. I get aroused too, but I can’t quite come, so I fake it. I need him in flesh and blood, and I need him badly.  I guess I’m addicted to sex with Michael, and it’s a happy kind of addiction. Except that I can’t find balance when he’s not around.

I wasn’t always like this. Before I met Michael, I was rather shy about sex. I dated a couple of guys, we had sex and they made me have an orgasm of sorts. It felt good, but sex was optional for me in those years. It all changed when Michael came along. I trusted him, and he trusted me. We had no secrets, we discussed everything.

I was close enough to him to suggest that his penis would feel much better inside me if he took me from behind. Speaking up about sex was out of character for me and I would have been ashamed to say anything like this in earlier years. But with Michael, I felt confident enough to show him my ass instead of my face, and I got rewarded big time.

By now, six years later, I got used to regular sex. So much so, that I’m going through withdrawal symptoms when Michael is away for more than three days. Half a year ago, he was away for three weeks, and I ended up sleeping with a man who chatted me up in a coffee shop. I must admit I enjoyed his advances, because I was horny, and I needed urgent relief. I’d rather not think about that night.

Michael is three years older than me. When we first met, he was still studying law and commerce, while I was a rather innocent freshman girl starting a biotechnology degree. By now we both graduated. He works at a multinational corporation specializing in takeover deals.

I work as a junior scientist for a mid-size company that tests biocompatible materials. Each test takes twenty to thirty minutes, leaving me plenty of time for daydreaming while sitting at my desk. Perhaps I should call it evening dreaming because I asked to work in the afternoon. This way, I can dial Michael every day at 9 am, which is the only time that suits him. We've got two more weeks to go on our enforced separation.

I was deep in my thoughts when I took a glance at the back of my left hand.

”Damn!” I exclaimed loudly, “it happened again." When I’m not careful, a small patch of the material we are testing gets stuck on my skin. It can be easily removed by touching the material with two electrodes. The voltage comes from a generator under my desk. The material we are testing is a new version of kevlar mesh, very flexible and biocompatible, so I don’t immediately notice it on my skin.

I’m familiar with the theory. In presence of a nitrate solution, the kevlar fibers cross the skin barrier, forming crystals below the skin (there is plenty of literature about kevlar implants). Most crystals stay close to the surface, while others grow over time into long flexible fibers almost one inch deep.  

When a small voltage is applied, the kevlar molecules below skin adhere to kevlar molecules outside the body, through ion links which are just as strong as kevlar itself. The ion links only break when the opposite voltage is applied, which causes the kevlar to detach from the skin.

In the absence of electricity, this kind of kevlar stays on the skin for years and can’t be removed, because every molecule is attached to its pair below the skin. In the stables, our beloved Malcolm The Pig carries a kevlar patch on his side for three years, and it doesn’t bother him at all. I always pat him on the back when I pass his den, and he recognizes me.

A month earlier

A month ago, a patch half the size of a credit card got stuck on my forearm and I didn’t notice. Back home, when we were naked in bed with Michael, he felt something unusual on my arm:

“I see you are taking your work home, Laura,” he said. I told him earlier about similar incidents at work, so he knew the patch won’t come off until I connect the electrodes at the lab the next day.

“I’m your work, Michael, and you have to work on me now,” I replied, moving closer to him, rubbing my crotch against his hips. I often do that, instinctively, when I’m with Michael.

“Perhaps you can put a similar patch down there. That would solve your problem for a while.“ he said jokingly in apparent refusal, but his rising penis told me a different story. I seized the opportunity to guide him to my hot spot:

“Where exactly should the patch go? Put your finger on my problem.“

When it came to verbal mischief, I could more than match him. However, only he had the tool to act on our common lust. Over the years, I became less shy about sex than he was, so these days I often take the initiative. That leads to great foreplay for both of us, but when it comes to the main course, I can’t do much. When I need sex, my approach is to get Michael aroused and then he acts exactly as I want it. I think all women do this, except that we scientist girls take longer to master the process.

The undirect approach worked again, and his penis was responding to my provocative banter. He replied:

“Imagine you cover this,” and I felt his finger at my vaginal entrance, “and this too.” he reached my clit with his thumb. I moaned loudly with pleasure when he jiggled his fingers.

Still Wednesday

My loud moan woke me up from my daydream. I was in the lab, fortunately all alone. The memory of Michael’s touch made me wet, which didn’t sit well with my determination to stay faithful to him. He was right about the need for a protective patch over my pussy. I must try it out. Looking at my desk, it occurred to me I had all the tools and materials required to put Michael’s idea into practice. That would be the easiest solution to keep me away from temptation.

I now had a plan, which made me feel better.  My anguished wait has dissipated, and I swung into action. Without any hesitation, I took off my panties from under my white gown. It was safe to do so because my desk was part of a long workbench facing the door. If someone came in, they wouldn’t see what I was doing below the waist.

First, I used a piece of cardboard with scissors, to size up the area I had to cover. I kept adjusting, until the cardboard was large enough to cover my hole and clit, without pressing anywhere on the sides. Then I fed the cardboard into the 3D-printer, to weave a piece of kevlar of the same size. I gave it a bit of bend as if using my palm to cover my crotch.

When the kevlar patch was ready, I attached to it one of the small connectors I had in a tray on my desk. It was like a curved fingernail, perhaps twice as large. At one end, it had a USB port while the other end was smooth and rounded. It was made of solid ceramic material but was covered by the same kevlar, to avoid standing out. I stapled this connector to the top of the patch, so it will sit above my clit with the USB port pointing downwards.

I dipped some cotton buds into a diluted nitrate solution and wiped the skin around my vagina. Then, while my skin was still wet with the solution, I pressed the kevlar patch against my vulva. I pressed at the perimeter all around, where I wanted it to stick. After ten seconds the patch was in place, although not bonded yet. I moved my hips in my chair to see whether the “protective gear” was comfortable to wear. Then I walked around the lab.

Things were not perfect. The patch prevented me from taking larger steps. But it also prevented me from misbehaving with men, which was my main purpose for the upcoming week.

I found a USB cable and plugged it into the generator. Then I sat down and carefully maneuvered the cable under my gown until I could plug it into “my” USB port just under my clit.  With my other hand, I reached down to the generator and pressed the button to give me a locking pulse.  I haven’t felt anything, but I knew the kevlar has bonded with my skin. Trying to remove it was pointless because it won’t come off.

Just to make sure, I applied the opposite signal, and the kevlar became loose. It didn’t fall off, but I was able to remove it.  I put it on again, then locked it again with a pulse. Once the crystals were below the skin, there was no more need for the nitrate solution. The kevlar could be reapplied, exactly as I wanted. I caressed it with my hand, enjoying the texture of my light body armor. The shell above my clit was smooth, the rest further down was like a very flexible mesh. It surrounded my vulva like a muzzle over my opening.

I was elated with my creation. With all this activity, I didn’t notice the hours have gone by, and it was time to go home. I pulled up my panties, went to the change room to put on my street clothes, then headed home.

Going home in bulletproof chastity

On my way, I passed the pub where lots of men gathered every night. I felt their eyes on me. Safe in my mesh, I held my nose high, as if saying, “sorry, no sex tonight, folks.” My decision was made, and I was happy to have the equipment to enforce it.

I still got lustful looks from the men, as I continued to walk towards the train station. I could only walk with small steps, which made me wiggle my bottom. I think I would have wiggled it anyway, but now I had to.

I’m not a model, but I’m a good looking twenty-six-year-old. I must not brag since I've got nothing special; average height, light brown hair, C-sized cups with firm boobs, narrow waist, good legs, well-rounded bottom. Most women of my age could say the same about themselves. The main thing is that I feel sexy, and men seem to know what goes on in my panties.  With this patch on my vulva, any intruder would be stopped by a bulletproof mesh of kevlar fibers. And it won’t come off without the properly coded electric signal, that much I know for sure.

When I waited at the station, another train passed at some speed. There was a large spark at the high-voltage wire overhead, yet the kevlar didn’t move away from my skin. We tested this part well. In the defense industry, there is concern about nuclear explosions which could create huge electric waves traveling thousands of miles, paralyzing all electrical equipment. The kevlar was to stay in place in the presence of electric disturbances. This was the actual purpose of the project I was testing, but I can’t disclose more details. Our designers added electric filters and a circuit which only recognized the digital code each chip was programmed to.

The unique code made the circuit immune to random signals, and immune to attacks from hackers. You had to know the code to lock and unlock. For the current batch, the code was 692-487-5031. I kept forgetting this number, despite having used it for a month.

My train came, I got in, and found a seat. Through my clothes, I carefully tried to pull away the kevlar patch from my body. I noted with a grin that it was still attached. I was safe from strangers, and I was safe from temptation. 'No sex tonight for me either…' I thought, and I was glad it didn’t depend on me anymore.

My lust for sex didn’t go away, I just knew there was no way for me to get lucky that night. With my pussy locked away under a patch, there was nothing I could do to have sex, so I had less responsibility. There were no more choices for me to agonize about. This was the right way for me when Michael was away.

I arrived home in a happy mood (as much as possible to feel happy when you haven’t had sex for a fortnight). I changed into something comfortable, had a light snack and poured myself a glass of wine. Then another glass, but my scientist's brain was too excited to get drunk. I watched something silly on TV, read my emails, then prepared to go to bed. I entered the bathroom, washed my teeth, then sat on the toilet. That’s when it hit me: how am I going to pee through the mesh covering my pussy? The kevlar tissue was fairly loose, but still had a density designed to stop a bullet.

OMG, why didn’t I think about this earlier? My mind told me it was pointless trying to remove my mesh. But my hand went instinctively around the perimeter of my patch. There was not a single loose spot.

When I realized the kevlar was non-negotiable, I tried to negotiate with my bladder instead. Perhaps I could hold back for a while? I went to the lounge room and started to pace up and down, to distract me from my growing need to urinate. Despite such delaying tactics, the fluids from two glasses of wine had to come out.

It was getting late in the evening, which precluded the idea of traveling back to my workplace to unlock my patch. There would be night guards around the lab building. Besides, taking off my patch would have been an admission of failure in my chastity pledge. If I took it off, then a dick or another would find its way into my pussy. That would bring me back to square one.

So here I was. I couldn’t have sex – no choice. I had to pee – no choice either. The decision was easy, so I took off all my clothes and returned to the toilet which was next to the shower in the bathroom. I intended to start first with a small amount of pee, just to see where it would go. But once I started, I was unable to stop the flow. A torrent came through the mesh, spreading in all directions on my body.

I predicted this would happen, so I jumped into the shower and rinsed myself clean. Then I went to bed. I slept well, content with the new-found control over my sex. In my sleep, I touched the mesh and felt reassured by its presence, even though otherwise I couldn’t feel it. It was really part of my body now. Even the connector covering my clit felt to be part of me when I tapped it. I felt nothing below the connector, only my clit said in my sleep: I’m still here. She’s always snoozing deep below. I tapped some more, then I fell asleep.

Thursday morning

In the morning, I showered again after I peed. I was still naked, but fresh and fragrant, at the 9 am call with Michael. Before I turned on the webcam, I warned Michael about the surprise he was going to see. I told him it was all about keeping me away from temptation while he was away.

He immediately recognized his brainchild covering my pussy. I could hear the delight in his voice, and his usual mischief I loved so much:

“That was my idea! And you took it to perfection. The kevlar matches the color of your eyes. From now on, when I look at your face, I will immediately remember how beautiful your armor can be.“

“I now carry part of you with me, everywhere I go. ” I said.

“Is it a deep attachment?” asked Michael, and I knew what he was thinking about.

“With kevlar, superficial attachment is quite enough, but with me, you’ll need to probe my depth when you come home. I’ll be bored for a few more nights while you are still away.”

“Laura, I promise to make up with my omissions. I only asked because you told me once that kevlar fibers take a few days to grow inside the body”.

“I’m flattered you remember my techno-babble, Michael. Very few fibers grow deep.  Most fibers are short, but there are lots of them and they form a strong bond.”

“So you are bonded now, Laura?”

“I’d rather be bonded with you down there, Michael.” We both laughed, then we went on for a while with remote sex.

Thursday afternoon

In the lab, I initiated first my daily batch of kevlar tests, but I couldn’t take off my patch immediately because there were other people around. I had to wait till 5 pm for them to leave. I used this time to carry out my plan for a better chastity mesh. Or chastity patch. I didn’t know how to call it, despite enjoying the thought of it. And the feeling of it too.

The 3D printer still had in memory the shape it printed a day earlier. I adjusted a few parameters, making the tissue of fibers less dense in the middle, where pee was likely to hit. In that part, the machine would weave the fibers to stand on their edge, instead of lying flat as elsewhere. This way, the flow of pee would encounter very little resistance. I printed this new patch and put it on when there were no more people in the lab. It was comfortable, and I locked it into place.

It was time for a pee, so I went to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet and I proudly peed straight into the basin, like a big girl, without any spills. Those thin blades of kevlar were guiding my pee into a single narrow stream. I didn’t even have to wipe myself as usual, because there wasn’t any drop of pee left in my crotch. This was better than the pussy I was born with.

Later, when I got home, I was able to pee again without any problem. My mesh was still firmly attached. It was rare but strong in the middle and flexible at the edges. It didn’t move, but it allowed me to move.

Friday morning

My chastity patch still felt perfect when I turned on the webcam for Michael. He examined my crotch in detail, asking me to move the webcam all around it.

I thought I was showing him my best side: clean, inventive, smart, knowledgeable – and very chaste. Oh gosh, have I lost my marbles to brag like this to myself? Could it be that a fortnight without sex has affected my judgment? That could have been the case. So, when I spoke, I shortened the list to the essential attributes on display:

“You see, Michael, I’m chaste and creative.” I had to giggle because the camera was on my pussy.  He guessed my thoughts and complimented me in his own cheeky way:

“I adore the source of your creativity, even when covered by a mesh.” He certainly knew how to tickle me with his words.

“Oh, thanks, Michael. The source of my creativity feels rather neglected right now, and it longs for a bit of action.”

“Hey, Laura, I thought all day about a way to give you a bit more excitement. Remember when you told me about those piezo-electric crystals which create a small electric charge when moving around? Can you add some to your mesh?”

“What an idea, Michael! I shall mix some piezo-electric crystals into the kevlar powder. Now you already tickled my curiosity and my pussy feels tickled in advance, in expectations of those tiny discharges. It will be fun.”

“I’m so glad Laura. See, it’s not pointless talking to me about science.” Well, it was usually pointless, but apparently, I found a way to motivate him.

“I appreciate your idea Michael and I’m going to put it into practice. Trouble is, my inner parts are still running on empty these days. I need you to fill me up, Michael.”  I spoke the truth, and then I saw his penis jumping to attention in a spontaneous act of help directed at myself.

We were always going like this, on a spiral of arousal and mutual understanding. My words had the desired effect and eventually, Michael ejaculated in an orgasm. His daily masturbation was important to me. Besides keeping us in sexual contact of sorts, it left less semen for any woman who might have eyes for my Michael. Phone sex was good when the real thing was not possible.

Friday afternoon

I hurried into the lab and added the piezo-electric crystals to the kevlar powder in the 3D printer. People were still around. I started a batch of tests, then there was nothing left for me to do.

There was still this novelty in my underbelly. It was too good to keep it all to myself. I rang my colleague Rachel, who worked in the prosthetics lab where they designed artificial limbs. She was a few years older than I was. A former gymnast, her body was still muscular at thirty-two. In her lab, she had access to a separate room, so she invited me over to see my invention.

“You know, Michael is away, so I thought about wearing this as protective equipment,” I said. Rachel exclaimed:

“Laura, I’m in the same situation now. My boyfriend is going away for two weeks, to place his parents in a retirement home. I’m due to a wedding this weekend in my brother’s town, and I had enough of all his mates trying to get into my pants. Show me what you got.”

I lifted my white gown and Rachel kneeled to see my patch.

“Can I touch it?” she asked.

“Sure, go ahead.” she touched, then she tried to remove my patch.

“Amazing! What’s holding it in place?” she asked.

“This type of kevlar sticks to your body. It comes off with an electrical pulse.”

“I definitely need such a thing for myself this weekend,” said Rachel.

“I can cut you a patch like this. There is plenty of material and no one seems to care. Not much work these days.  Would you like to get measured? I can bring a piece of cardboard and scissors, as I did for myself.”

“I know a better way to get my measure,” said Rachel, then she continued, “I may not know about kevlar, but I know about body parts. I’ll need the kevlar to stick only in certain places. In other places, it should remain smooth and slippery. Can you do that? “

“Sure, we also have the passivated kevlar, which is body-friendly but doesn’t stick,” I replied.

“Does your 3D printer support multiple types of material?”

“Yes, it has two smaller intakes, in addition to the basic material. You know, like a washing machine, where you add separately the detergent and the rinse, into different pouches. On our printer, these extra inputs are marked A and B.”

“Great,” said Rachel, “just what I need for my prosthetic device. Please add the non-stick kevlar to A. And please use this small bag of Cortocelline for B”.

 “What does that do?” I asked.

“Well, Laura… you know about kevlar, I know about Cortocelline. Initially, we developed it for soldiers who got badly burnt on the battlefield. When they heal, they often end up with too much skin in the wrong places. Cortocelline reduces such useless growth if applied uniformly for a month or two.”

“Sounds great, Rachel, but how does that come into your…”

“How should I say … My pussy lips are growing a bit. I suspected long ago that Cortocelline can reduce them. For some time, I was looking for a way to apply it where I need it. I tried it on myself, I know it reduces my labia lips, but I can’t wear all day panties full of this white powder. It needs to be applied only where I need it, not anywhere else. I know it works, I just needed a patch like yours to rub it against my skin for some  time.”

“Wow, Rachel, I’m interested in that too. Very interested!” I said. I had a thick, crumpled clitoral hood, which continued in large lips down below. Nothing exaggerated, just girl flesh, but enough to make me feel defensive about that part of my body. So I continued: “this Cortocelline sounds great, or do you spell it like Corticeline?”

“It doesn’t have a name yet. We just mix it here in the lab,” said Rachel.  Then I went back to my lab to mix feed the components into the 3D printer.

About half an hour later, I got an email from Rachel, with an attachment in a format the 3D printer could understand. I sent the attachment to the printer, and I entered some adjustments to enable the pee flow, just as I did for myself earlier.

This time I had more material to work with since there was a certain depth, not just a flat layer of fibers. I was able to create a small channel, leading away from the pee hole. I gave the walls of the channel a bit of twist, to make the fluid flow in a laminar fashion. Then I printed the shape and took it to Rachel, who put it on.

It looked quite different from my one. Instead of a loose muzzle, her patch was a tight fit, going in quite deep.

“Doesn’t it bother you to have something in your crack?” I asked

“Quite the opposite, it gives me a feeling of support and direction,” she replied. “Do you want to try yourself?”

“I’d like to try, especially for the lip reduction, but I shall keep my mesh as a spare, just in case.”

“Then come over, and I can measure you,” said Rachel.

Getting measured

In the measurement room, Rachel put three stickers on my bones: one on my mound down the middle, and one on each of my hip bones on the sides.

“Whichever way you move, these three points never shift against each other, so the sensors have a system of reference for your underbelly,” she said. She walked me to a machine that looked like a flat device on the wall.  Then she handed me a pair of thick undies that had some sort of dental putty on the inside, in the crotch area.

“This is not ordinary putty. It has magnetic properties enabling the computer to know exactly where the putty is at every moment.” 

She tightened the undies and I felt the putty filling my crevices everywhere, even entering inside me a little bit. On a monitor, I could see the shape of the putty appearing as a three-dimensional body.

“Now walk around, move in all possible ways, here in front of the machine,” said Rachel. As I did that, the shape on the screen shifted, following my moves. When I held my feet together, the shape became narrower. When I put one foot forward, the shape twisted. When I opened wide, the shape widened. I sat down, then I walked and even run a few steps. After a while, the display highlighted some areas on the 3D shape.

“These are articulation points which don’t move relative to your hip bones. Everything else moves, these points stay.”  explained Rachel, “We can attach artificial elements to these points, and they won’t impair your moves. Other parts must be allowed to move freely.”

The computer showed the base of my lips to be such articulation points and Rachel pointed them out on the monitor:

“This is where the Cortocelline shall go, to choke off those pussy lips.” Then, she added instructions to the 3D model, to cover those parts with Cortocelline. “Continued superficial contact is quite sufficient for Cortocelline to have an effect.”

To my relief, I noticed the computer has smoothed out the protruding part which matched the putty in my vagina. It became smaller and it had a bend to avoid interfering with my moves. It was rather narrow at the entrance, not wider than a tampon string. It was asymmetric, following my folds, and it ended with an asymmetric bulb. Rachel marked it to be smooth and slippery. But I was still unsure I wanted it inside. Meanwhile, there was an even more sensitive spot­ which worried me.

My clit was always a deep-seated affair. I could play with it, but only if I pressed hard through that thick hood. When I curved my finger, I was able to reach below the hood, but it felt overly sensitive and uncomfortable. I watched with apprehension when Rachel marked the shape to be sticky with kevlar at the underside of my clit.

Seeing my concerned face, she said, “Don’t worry, that’s the best part, you shall see. There were girls like you in the gymnastics team and they all benefited from a bit of tickle.”

We emailed the results to print out the shape in the kevlar lab.  When I tried it out, I immediately felt the difference. The new mesh had two slits where my labia lips would fit.  After my girly bits went through the slits, it felt as if half of the mesh has moved inside me. Everything was sitting deep. It gave the same pleasant feeling as a pair of very comfortable undies. It was holding me together, without any bad points.

Below my hood, I felt the kevlar on my clit, but it was smooth. It didn’t bother me. If anything, it gave me a pleasant humming feeling.  I could also feel there was something inside me, without causing any hurt of distraction. As if I had a constant point deep inside and everything was turning around my center. Instead of distracting my attention, it gave me more focus. When I walked, it was a pleasure to move my feet around it, so to speak.

“I shall keep this on for the weekend,” I said. Before going home, we stopped at a coffee shop and we could hardly stop giggling like schoolgirls.

Weekend

On Saturday morning, I could sense Michael was really tired. He worked hard all week, so I chatted with him. Fortunately, I always carry in my panties the parts he needs to unwind. On the webcam, he saw my new deep-seated chastity patch and I assured him it was perfectly comfortable. I walked around the room, and he noted I was more feminine than ever. I was still a scientist, but a rather aroused one.

In the afternoon, I went shopping. Along with my usual groceries, I bought a skipping rope. I felt cheeky, like a naughty girl. I felt young.

Sunday found me naughtier than ever. The kevlar was holding me tight, yet I felt there was more of me inside it. As if my clit has tripled in size, not that I was able to touch it. There were also rumblings inside me.

Every now and then, my clit would get engorged, puling the kevlar upwards. But this encountered some resistance because the sides around my vagina firmed up as well. The entire patch tightened up against the curve of my crack. It had a slow cycle of tensing and relaxing, giving me new sensations. I needed no hands to play with myself.  As if I had new body parts playing with each other. I felt like a growing teenager.

Rachel’s weekend

She rang me on Sunday evening.

“Hi, Rachel, how did the wedding go?”

“Just as I predicted. The men tried to finger me, as they did in past years. You should have seen their faces when they felt the kevlar. But listen, this kevlar has really stuck to me now.”

“Yeah sure, I told you, it stays on until you unlock it.”

“I know you told me it stuck, but I thought it would come off in a day or two. I was a bit disappointed when it didn’t, but I don’t regret it now.”

“Tell me, tell me, Rachel.”

“You know, there was this man at the wedding. Big, beefy guy, with a thick neck and large palms. Now, I love my boyfriend and we intend to get married. But this was my last opportunity to misbehave. I was horny anyway, so I was tempted when he said he was a car mechanic and had a workshop nearby. He said he had the tools to remove my patch.

My mind went to the tool this big man might have in his pants. I got really aroused. We slipped out of the wedding hall and walked a short distance to his workshop. He closed the blinds so no one could see what we were doing inside. He told me to sit on the bonnet of one of the cars in the garage. Needless to say, by that time I had no panties below my skirt. He brought his tools.”

“Gosh, Rachel! I hope you didn’t get burned or scratched down there.”

“Well, that’s the whole point. The kevlar was impossible to remove without burning my flesh or cutting through it. He tried and tried, going through all his tools, devices and solvents. He was only able to tickle me, but I was in pain as soon as he tried anything stronger. That kevlar felt like my own flesh and there was no way to separate the two.”

“How did it end? Are you OK now?” I asked.

“After twenty minutes, I started to have some doubts. There I was on the bonnet, with this big man working on my pussy, while I was trying to cheat on my boyfriend. It just wasn’t right, and my enthusiasm has subsided. Some of the momentum was still there, and I used my hands on his penis to relieve him of his load. He was indeed big, perhaps he would have been too big for my pussy anyway. After he spilled on the floor, he became very soft and appreciative towards me. By lack of better choice, we both had to laugh about our failure to copulate. He said it was the first time any material defeated him, and he gave me a friendly tap on my buried pussy. Then we walked back to the wedding hall.”

“I’m so sorry, Rachel, that you had a disappointing night.”

“Not at all, Laura. I’m now happy things turned out the way they did. Among my brother’s friends, I had the reputation of a whore. Now the news has spread I was able to turn down the biggest dick in town. In the morning, the women came to see my patch. They were my brother’s age, about forty.  Some of their teenage daughters have turned eighteen and were due to start college, so they were allowed to join the adult discussion.

Their mums brought them along with some purpose. One of them turned to her daughter, and said, ‘see, Bonnie, you should wear something like this in the first year when you go to college.’”

“Wow, that sounds tough,” I said

“Laura, no need to worry about the young generation. Bonnie responded promptly, saying she didn’t mind, as long as the key was with the guy she fancied.  Another girl, Trisha, turned to her mum and said, ‘you should wear this too, Mum, while Daddy is away at the oil rig.’ They got sharp tongues these young witches, you know. We all laughed.”

“I’m glad it came out well for you,” I said.

“I must thank you for the pee channel. I really had success with it.”

“OMG, Rachel, I hope you haven’t sprayed anyone.”

“Not at all. In fact, I had perfect control, despite the trap they set for me.”

“How was that?”

“When the women first gathered, the daughters started to giggle and whisper, as girls do. Then they disappeared into the kitchen and brought a few jugs of orange juice. I thought it was a kind gesture. They kept serving us the juice, and I received special attention. I was really dehydrated, after the night at the wedding, with the shenanigans at the garage.”

“I can see where this was leading,” I said.

“After about an hour, the girls told me I should pee before traveling home. They giggled quite loudly, and their mums were curious too. There was a large bathroom near the wedding hall, and they all gathered to see how I was fairing. One of the stalls was large, for disabled access, so I crouched above the chair and let loose a pencil-thin stream of fluid. I insisted they don’t show my face when they recorded my performance on video. I got applause for that.”

“Wow, Rachel.”

Comparing notes

 “All nice and dandy, but I must be the horniest girl in town,” Rachel continued.

“That cannot be, because I am the horniest. It’s like being a teenager again and I’m discovering new body parts,” I said.

“I also went back to my younger years, before my clit got keratinized,” said Rachel.

“What does that mean?”.

“You know, it’s like the boys who got circumcised. By the time they grow up, their skin hardens on their exposed glans, so they are less sensitive that the uncircumcised ones who are kept under a moist foreskin.”

“But you are not a boy, Rachel, I can tell that.”

“I’m definitely a girl, but I was born without much clitoral hood. You got too much, I got none. These years, I hardly feel anything when touching my clit. I’m lucky Jim found a way with my clit.”

“Who is Jim?” I asked. This was getting interesting.

“You may know Jim, Laura. He works in the electronics department.”

“Of course I know Jim. Wow, the two of you!“ He was introverted, nerdy and a lateral thinker. Good match for Rachel who was impetuous and energetic. “And what does he do to you?”

“Well, he learned to squeeze my clit and fondle it between his fingers. My surface may be inert, but I get enormous pleasure when the nerves inside my clit rub against each other.”

“Wait, Rachel, … something similar could be happening to you and me right now.  Some kevlar fibers have grown deeper and are now exciting nerves inside our clitorises. There is also a bit of electric voltage from crystals Michael has suggested.”

“Makes sense Laura, but I also feel aroused around my vagina.”

“I guess the kevlar passes around that part too, and the fibers may go half an inch deep.”

“There is new medical research in that area,” said Rachel. “Around the opening, on both sides, we have those clitoral bulbs. Is it possible for the kevlar fibers to go into those as well? But the bulbs are not that sensitive by themselves.”

“The bulbs may not be sensitive, but I suspect the electrical discharges go through the clit all the way down to the bulbs. I think that is what we are feeling,” I said. “Luckily the piezo-electric crystals only create a very small electric charge, almost unmeasurable”.

“Enough to keep me aroused, that’s for sure,” we both laughed at this.

“I intend to keep it on until my man returns,” I said.

“Same here,” said Rachel, and we hung up.

Monday morning

Michael was in another country, so we agreed to ring in the afternoon. I could rejoin my usual morning shift. I arrived at the company at 9 am and there was some crowd at the entrance. A company meeting was to be held at the nearby town hall, so we all gathered there.

The news was not good. Orders have dried up, there wasn’t much work left for us to do. Well, we all noticed that. The company was winding up. My suspicion was that the company was set up on purpose as a separate entity, to keep us away from government benefits. We were still getting generous severance pay and a written reference.

Someone was putting together a list of personal items we wanted from the workplace. We were not to enter the premises again. Some wanted a plant, some wanted cloth items. I wanted to ask for the generator below my desk, but that was company property.

This was the moment when I saw Rachel’s face in the crowd. How do we get out of our chastity patches now?  I told her not to worry. We’d figure out something. What happened next is a separate story.