http://www.mrdouble.com



Factory. (?) 
 
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Fiction for adults only.(c) Spoonbender. Can be freely copied and distributed, but not as part of any 
fee paying service. If you archive it please let me have access to the archive. Email me if you want 
more stories or if you have any constructive criticism. Please don't flame me, I'm still learning the 
craft. My address is theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk. 
 
I don't know how to classify this story. Maybe some reviewer with a firmer grasp on reality than me 
can do it for me. 
 
"Demmed odd sort of tale, young fella!" As usual Colonel Bufton Tufton has hit the nail right on the 
head. 
 
He switched off the computer and went back to his paper. 
 
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************************ THE FACTORY ****************************** 
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Have you ever wondered what was behind some of those ads you see on the news pages. You know the 
ones..... 
 
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 
Hi I'm Lisa. I'm 19 and really horny. I can send you a pair of my used panties and a photoset for only 
$25....... 
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 
 
This is the story about one of those girls 
 
 
  
I don't know how long I've been here. There ain't no night and day. Just work and sleep, work and 
sleep. What's that?  Oh, what do I do? 
 
I'm a machinist I suppose. Least that's what I spend most of my time doing. Sewing, you know 
making clothes. Only one type though. Panties. I make panties. I do other stuff too, I don't make 
anything else though, 'cept panties. I'll tell you all about it but I need something in return.  
 
Ok, ok.  Me first. 
 
I'm sixteen. A description? Oh well I'm about 5' 2", 34, 30, 34, sort of mousey coloured hair. Worn 
long, hazel eyes, my boyfriend reckons I'm pretty, but then he would say that wouldn't he? 
 
I'm not a brainbox or anything like that. I'm just sort of ordinary. One of a large family. Hardly 
noticed. I did well enough at school. I didn't flunk anything anyway. 
 
Anyhow I had just finished school and gotten my first job. It was in a garment factory, way over the 
other side of the city. I had to get my own apartment. It wasn't much of an apartment but it gave me a 
sort of pride in my adulthood. I was out there making it on my own. I had very few friends, the girls at 
the factory didn't seem to last long enough to become friendly with. Must be a high turnover of staff, I 
thought. One day they were there the next day they'd just gone. Some of them were just working class 
girls like me, mostly young. Others were students, you know cheerleader types. Brainy and stuff. 
Talking about what they were gonna do when they finished college. They were gonna be lawyers, 
managers that sort of stuff. I wonder if they did? They were just working there, in the holidays, to get 
some spending cash. I really envied those girls with their bright futures, even though they were a bit 
stuck up. 
 
What were we making? 
 
We were making panties. Some of the girls seemed to specialise in the sexy lace stuff. Me? I got plain 
white standard schoolgirl ones to do. All my own size too. Everyone seemed to be making the same 
type of panties every time and all of them the size that would perfectly fit the people that made them. I 
thought it was a bit weird at the time, but if they wanted to pay, what to me, was a pretty good wage. 
Then who was I to argue? 
 
I'll tell you another strange thing. I had to put on this schoolgirl outfit once, for a 'company photo'. 
Pony tails, white socks, pleated skirt the lot. I'd been there a few weeks but I thought this was really 
strange.  
 
Why didn't I leave? The money I suppose. They gave me a payrise and things just carried on as before. 
I thought for a while my boss was a sort of pervert. But he gave me an extra $50 a week, so I sorta 
shrugged and said "what the heck". It was still kinda odd at the time, I can understand why now, of 
course. I looked a lot younger in the photos. 12, 13 maybe. 
 
Have I seen the photos? Oh yeah! I've seen the photos alright, plenty of times. 
 
Back to my job. I was given sort of cut out shapes of cloth, you know bits of panty, and I had to 
assemble the things completely, You know, making a gusset, turning the seams, joining the sides, 
fitting the elastic. It was pretty tedious stuff, but I didn't mind, as I said it was good money and I had 
my walkman. I sort of lived in a fantasy dreamworld. My fingers seemed to work automatically after a 
while. 
 
The boss had promised me an amazing increase in salary and a transfer to a more interesting job, if I 
could reach a certain number of finished, non defective, goods per shift. His words, not mine. I 
worked really hard, thinking I'd soon be out of here, and I became pretty good. None of my products 
had defects. Then I reached the magic number and sustained it. 
 
My boss was really pleased. One night he told me to stay on after the other girls went home and he'd 
show me my new job. I remember sitting in the factory, it was really quiet, normally I couldn't hardly 
hear myself  think over the clatter of the sewing machines. I heard a footstep behind me. I half turned 
expecting to see my boss. I don't remember anything else. 
 
'Till I woke up here. I don't know where I am, though I feel for some reason I'm still in Chicago. I 
can't hear it but I think I can feel a sort of rumble every now and then. I think its a train. It 'feels' like 
the El. If you've lived in Chicago you'll know what I mean.  
 
Anyhow I'm here. Wherever. I'm in a sort of box. Its got all sorts of racks and tubes and stuff all 
around. In front of me is a sewing machine, it was mounted on a sort of slide, so I could push it to one 
side if I needed a flat surface. The box is probably 6 feet long and about 4 feet wide and, maybe, five 
feet tall. I'm sitting close to one wall, about half way along one of the longest sides. In front of me 
there are bins which contain panty parts. It appears that I'm just gonna continue making the same sort 
of panties.  
 
The strange this is that I'm naked. Least I think I am, I can't feel any clothes down there. You see my 
body has been fitted into a sort of hole, so the bottom half of my body can't be touched, at least by me. 
I can't even see it, as the worktop goes all round with some sort of inflated belt around my waist which 
made it so I couldn't even get a finger between my waist and the worktop. My bottom half seems 
kinda remote after all this time, like it ain't mine. 
 
Which I suppose it ain't, not any more. Now its just part of the machine. I'm sitting on some sort of 
chair. 'Cept this is different. It kinda swivels in the middle, you know, splits open. The seat is kinda U 
shaped I guess. I haven't seen it, just felt it, that's what it feels like anyhow. It means that my vagina is 
sorta poking down, hanging free, easy to get at. My asshole too, when it ain't got that horrible, 
slippery, metal probe thing in it.  
 
They've tied some sorta strap around my thighs, tied to a pole like thing, best as I can tell, one for 
each leg. They can move these, with some sorta motor, so they can open and close my legs just as they 
want. Its a kinda weird feeling, having no control. The machine just says "Yeah lets open her legs" 
and hey presto they're open, as wide as it likes. Nothing I do will stop it. I've quit fighting it now. 
They could take the straps off now and I'd open and close my legs automatically. You see I know the 
noises the machine makes now. I can sense when it wants something. So I just give in. Do it. You 
know take part. It ain't that I've got any choice. It even decides that I sleep with my legs wide open. 
I've got a tall pillow thing. I lean against it. Turn down the light and I sleep. Under the bench I am 
wide. I  spend about half my time like that, wide. 
 
What? Do I get fucked? 
 
By a man? No. I've never been fucked by a man. I was a virgin when I came here, strict Catholic 
father you see. So I've never been fucked properly. Of course the machine fucks me. It just can't leave 
me alone. It always wants something and I've just got to give in. Anytime. 
 
 I'm even fucked awake. You know that?  Its like an alarm clock, a fucking alarm clock. That's right a 
FUCKING alarm clock! One minute you're sleeping, the next you've got something inside you. 
Pumping! Its the most humiliating experience you can imagine. You wake up completely out of it. 
You don't know where you are, what you're doing. Nothing. Except you're being fucked. Hard. Not the 
gentle sort of early morning lovemaking that married couples do everyday. Least I think they do. 
 
This is fast - hammering. 
 
Look! Imagine me. I'm sitting here my legs are wide open and something is fucking me. I can't see it, 
I don't know what it looks like. And I have to go to orgasm. The little book told me. You know the 
one they left me so I could read it when I woke up, that first day. It told me that the only way I had of 
stopping the machine was to cum. The book also said that the machine automatically sensed when I 
was having a real one. So there was no good faking. So what do I do? First thing in the morning. Well 
my morning at least. I'm being fucked. What do I do? I orgasm. 'Course I do. Ain't got any choice 
have I? Not unless I want to be fucked for hours. I just play with my tits and try to get off as soon as 
possible. I've been sorta calculating it. I reckon I can do it in about three minutes. Maybe I could go 
for an olympic record. I can go from asleep to cum in three minutes. That must be a record. Maybe I'll 
get in that book. You know the one. Whats it called? Yeah that's it, the Guiness record book. I could 
get in there. If they have sex stuff. Probably don't, my little brother had a copy and I don't think my 
mum would be too pleased if he read about sex stuff. So maybe I can't. I couldn't anyway. 'S cause I'm 
stuck here. That's what I want you to do for me. You know, find me. Suss out the clues. I know. I 
know. I can't help much. I'll think about it. Talking it through with you helps. Helps me think.  
 
So my day starts. Fucking. After I've cum the cock goes away and then some cloth is pressed up 
against my pussy. I couldn't work out what it was at first. I soon realised. It was the panties. A pair of 
panties was pressed up against my gash. Gusset up. I've seen the damp patches, always in the same 
place. The dildo comes back and pushes the panties hard against my cunt. Then it starts vibrating. 
Fast! 
 
I've worked it all out. I think the dildo has a sorta sensor on it, cause it seems to know when the 
panties are wet enough. Cause it suddenly just stops. Usually just as I'm about to cum. The panties are 
removed, a new pair are placed up against me and it all starts again. All day that goes on. 
 
A hiss of air and the soiled panties are shot up a tube. I have to get them and seal them into a bag, 
with a photo of me in the school uniform, one of my face, smiling, and one that I reckon is my pussy 
with the dildo pushing into it. Leastways its somebody's pussy. Its probably mine 'cept I've never seen 
it like that before. With something in it and all. Anyhow in with this lot goes a piece of paper. It is 
some shit about how I've got off for you, love you, man of my dreams stuff. I seal it and post it 
through a flap onto a conveyor. I know there's a conveyor 'cause I opened the flap and saw it once, I 
saw other packages too so maybe I'm not alone. I got an electric shock up my ass for that. I haven't 
done it again. What I want to to know is how do they know? 
 
So all day I'm doing this. My cunt gets numb from the vibration sometimes. They shoot something 
into my ass. Aftershave  I think, hurts like hell whatever it is. I soon get my feeling back. I get wet 
again. On command. 
 
All the time I'm working. Its like I'm in two parts. The top part is a machinist, working away making 
panties. Panties which get fed into a machine that includes my bottom half. I think about it 
sometimes. You know about making panties that will never get worn. What do these people do with 
them? I make the panties then stretch them on a frame, which is dropped into a slot thing. I have to 
make sure I keep ahead of the machine. Make sure that I don't get so wet that my stock of panties runs 
out before I can make more. I must keep ahead. If I don't the machine hurts me. Its got lots of ways of 
hurting me. I just work hard. Try not to notice whats going on below me. As I said I'm now two 
different halves. One half belongs to me the other to the machine. 
 
I get to orgasm 8 times a day. Always 8 times. Always the same. The fake cock fucks me. 7 times if 
you don't count my wake up fuck. I can request an orgasm. I press a button and when the machine 
feels like it, it fucks me. Other times it just does it. Legs open, bang, bang, bang, cum, legs closed, 
back to work. That's it. My total sexual experience in a sentence.  
 
I kinda like cumming. It feels nice. Makes me forget for a bit where I am and what I'm doing. The 
prick seems to vibrate as it pumps. Do real men's thingies do that? I don't know, I've never done it 
with a man. Oh I guess I told you that already, haven't I? I'd like to try it. You know, doing it with a 
man. I reckon it would be nice. Maybe I'd get to, maybe, have some say in it. Have a little control. I 
hope I can do it with you when you find me. If you're a man. Are you a man? 
 
I bet you wouldn't wipe your Penis. Penis is a funny word isn't it. I can't say it without giggling. I 
heard it in the school Biology class. All the girls giggling and going red. The schoolteacher shouting 
for order. Pee - nis! he-he. Penis. Peeeeeeenis!  
 
I'm sorry about giggling. I'll be serious from now on. I've got a straight face now. Anyhow, as I was 
saying, I bet you wouldn't wipe your penis on my panties after I've cum. Nor would you make me put 
them into a special bag with an O printed in red on it. I bet you'd be more romantic wouldn't you? I 
wouldn't have to put my panties in a bag at all if I'm with you would I? We'd be kinda romantic 
together. Are you romantic? My boyfriend was. He always said nice things to me as he put his hand 
up my skirt. Saying how beautiful I was an all. I was going to do it with him. Go all the way. He was 
going to buy some condoms. I won't now of course. Well, I've got you for a start, I can picture you in 
my mind. Strong and handsome. You are strong and handsome aren't you? My boyfriend probably has 
someone else now anyway. Oh well. He was handsome too. 
 
What? Oh is it vibrating? Now do you mean? Sure! Yes. But I can mostly ignore it if I want. Don't tell 
the machine will you. Keep your voice down. I don't want it to know. I can't ignore it completely 
though. Well you can't can you? Its buzzing. I can't hear it, I can feel it. I know. Female intuition, plus 
a numby sort of buzzy feeling round my crotch. Oops its finished. Must have been wetter than I 
thought, must have been 'cause I was thinking of you. Wait a minute, don't go away. 
 
There! done. Another package goes who knows where. Do you know? Where do they go? Are you still 
there? 
 
Good! Thanks for staying with me. I get really lonely. Aaaaah, sorry about that the thing banged up to 
me pretty hard that time. Nearly pushed them inside. I'd never get them out then. Its Ok, its buzzing 
again. Back to normal. 
 
Where was I? Oh yeah. Talking about me.  
 
Clothing? No I'm not wearing anything. Leastways up top. Can't feel anything below, so I guess I'm 
naked. Got these little sucker things on my titties though. I'm looking at 'em now. Like little rubber 
suckers. I can't get 'em off. Must be attached in some way. If I pull 'em. Ouch. They hurt. They suck 
too. Sucking suckers you could say. Got these little tubes and wires and shit running from 'em. They 
suck when I'm being fucked. Its kinda nice. The feeling sorta rushes down from my tits and meets the 
feeling from my cunt coming the other way. That's the best way I can describe it. When they meet. 
Sockeee. Pow! I cum. Cum like a train. Bet you're shocked now aren't you? 
 
I get shocked as well. Not a sort of 'Oh my gosh I wasn't expecting that' sort of shocked. Shocked with 
electricity. If the machine thinks I've been bad I get shocked. In my tits. It really hurts. I don't like it. 
Up my bum too. I try not to make him angry. 
 
He takes care of me. He feeds me. He cleans me. He washes me. He fucks me and he puts me to sleep. 
 
What do I eat?  Oh I get fed on scraps. You know good food all mixed up. Lots of different things, 
like lasagne, spaghetti and ice cream. I must be near an Italian restaurant. Hey that's another clue isn't 
it? You'll soon be able to work out where I am. Get help, come and rescue me. Oh god maybe I can 
get out of this place. Be free again..... 
 
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"Unit 162 is having imaginary conversations again." 
 
The control supervisor rolled his chair towards operator 2's console. He scrutinised the video and 
listened in on the headphones to the chatter. 
 
"Ok. We'd better take her mind off it. Give her a double dose fucking, say for an hour. Before that 
increase the size of the dildo to, let me think, yes! A 9 incher, that'll be her size from now on. Put the 
tit and ass shocks on too. Give her the works. I think its about time she learned that she was here to 
work, not to indulge in idle chatter." 
 
The operator switched to her lower view on the video then initiated the sequence suggested by the 
supervisor. A few seconds later a new dildo swung out of its storage bin, then clicked into place facing 
her cunt. Her legs sprang open and moments later, buzzing busily, the dildo started to hammer into 
action. 
 
Her talking was replaced by grunting moans. Her moment of sanity had gone. 
 
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FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and who is prepared to collaborate 
with me on future stories. You will naturally share the credit, such as it is. If you are her. Then please 
email me at theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk 
 
Thoedore Spoonbender. 

