You awoke to the feel cool metal touching against your back, your wrists, your ankles, and in a thick band around your waist. As you came to, you realized you were strapped to a table, legs spread open. Your head lulled to the side, and your eyes trailed up a tall body: him.

"You," you slurred, still drowsy.

He said nothing, though his visor moved from where it had been looking—down at your open legs—to your face. Your lips parted, but you said nothing. You felt prodding at your core; something cold was being forced inside your cunt. Someone new stepped in front of the man as you grit your teeth against the intrusion.

"Open your mouth."

You were confused and dizzy, your eyelids heavy. You felt too weak to fully open; you parted your lips a little wider, and the person swabbed the inside of your cheek. Then they stepped aside, and you found yourself faced with him again. He lifted a hand as his visor met your feeble glare, and you felt as though something was brushing against your brain.

Suddenly you were three again, crying and screaming as you were led into the factory building to be raised for work; then you were nine, fingers sore and bleeding after a long day on the production line; another flash and you were thirteen, one of the perverts unzipping his pants in front of you; fourteen, and another was groaning on top of you; fifteen, selling yourself on the street for money to treat a wound. Suddenly the memories were gone, and you gasped for air.

"You're a little whore." His voice was impassive. Cold. It seeped into your being and made you shiver.

He took a step forward, and suddenly his helmet was staring down at you. A gloved hand covered your mouth and squished your cheeks together; he slipped two fingers in your mouth, his thumb hooking under your jaw.

"Suck," he commanded, and his fingers began rubbing along your tongue. You were too dazed to argue. And so you sucked on his fingers while the man between your legs prodded your pussy.

He gazed down at her from behind his helmet. She looked so lost, so afraid. It was easy to take what he wanted from her in this state, and so as the examination was done, he had slipped his fingers into her mouth. He was stroking along her tongue as she sucked them compliantly. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight. He had half a mind to ignore his staff and shove his cock in her mouth now, but she seemed too out of it to make it enjoyable.

He pondered down at her as he played with her tongue. She looked young, but her memories showed so many encounters with men. She'd prostituted herself. She was a whore. He wondered how old she was, though he didn't remove his fingers from her mouth to ask. Later. He was considering taking the glove off so he could feel her too when the doctor between her legs stood.

"Everything looks fine."

He nodded and looked back down at the girl. She was still looking up at him. He almost felt sorry for her; he almost wanted to say something to comfort her. But he didn't; he only continued to fill her mouth. It distracted her as the doctor re-entered with a large needle, angling it at her upper left arm. The doctor plunged it in suddenly, and she yelped, eyes going wide. In her panic, she bit down on his fingers. He could hardly blame her. His fingers had been protected by the thick gloves, but he pulled them out and slapped her face anyway—he couldn't have her thinking she could bite him. She blinked. Tears were welling in her eyes.

"48 hours, sir."

Another nod.

You closed your eyes as you lay helpless on the metal table. You squeezed them together, feeling hot tears run down the sides of your face. You wouldn't let him see you cry, so you choked the rest back.

"That's all, sir. The rests are running. They'll be done before the device is ready."

The cloaked man nodded and the gaze of his visor left you. "Take her," he commanded to people you couldn't see. You felt your restraints come undone—you weren't sure how—and your arms were roughly seized by the armored men before trying to escape had even crossed your mind. "Cover her until you get there. Naked in the cell. Two gallons of water. No food. No visitors. Don't talk to her." He listed his orders behind you as you were pulled to your feet, a pathetic sheet wrapped around you. You swayed as your hands were cuffed again. Then they forced you to walk forward—walk, walk, walk. Your bare feet pattered over the cold metal floors, which you had glued your eyes to. Every panel you crossed was the same, and soon your mind seemed to go on autopilot. Before you could protest, the sheet was ripped from you, and you were pushed into a dim room. The armored men set down two gallons of water before shutting the heavy metal door.

You were alone and afraid. Naked and cold. Parched and hungry. You looked around the room desperately, still waking up from whatever had happened to you. There was a small cot with thin blanket on it, no pillow. The only other thing in the cold room was a toilet. You rushed over and sat, cold metal stinging your upper thighs as you peed. Embarrassment flushed over you, and suddenly you were grateful to be alone in the cell. You hurried over to the cot and under the blanket, as thin and scratchy as it was. The cold nipped at you, and with little else to do but wait for your fate, you fell asleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, as there was nothing in the room to indicate any time. You stood and drank some water, the coolness calming the fire in your throat from your earlier screaming. You paused before taking another sip; he seemed so insistent on giving you plenty of water, but had ordered no food. He wants you weak, but alive. The thought made you sick, though you knew it to be true. You swayed on your feet as you took one last sip. Then you hurried back to your cot, where you curled up until sleep came for you again.

This cycle continued for what felt like forever. Drinking the water, curling into a ball under the blanket, scurrying to the toilet and back. There was nothing else to pass the time. Your stomach growled more viciously at you every time you woke up; you had no energy to do exercises to pass the time, so you simply slept. Soon the two gallons were gone, and you were left without water. You thought surely you were close to death when the heavy metal door opened. The men with the white armor pulled you up, wrapped the same thin sheet around you, and marched you out the door.

First you were taken for a shower, forced to clean yourself in front of the men. Then you were dragged through the halls the same as last time; you kept your eyes glued to the floor, too afraid of what you might see if you looked up. You knew there was no hope of escape, anyway. He had brought you here to die. He was going to kill you. That's where you were going now: to your death. You had closed your eyes, too exhausted to even cry, when you came to a stop. The sheet was stripped away, and you were pushed through a door, which immediately slid shut behind you.

Your captor turned to face you.