Epilogue to Vera Purdee #01 - Guest story by Dr. Psycho

 Dr. Psycho just emailed me this pseudo-epilogue/sequel captioned image to my Vera Purdee #01 story from the other day. She has plenty of food and water and gets to provide a useful service to society.

Thank you Dr. Psycho, I really enjoyed this epilogue. I love this glimpse of Miss Purdee's dark future in the box. I always enjoy your comments for their interesting ideas, and this story really illustrates your wonderfully twisted imagination. :-) Hopefully I can come up with some more opportunities for collaborative efforts in the near future.

The caption and plain text are after the break, please enjoy and be sure to comment, I'm sure Dr. Psycho appreciates it!

- B-Rex

 Vera Purdee in the Box

by Dr. Psycho

     Vera didn't know how long she had been in the box.  Obviously much longer than she had intended.  Something had gone wrong, but she still didn't know how or why.

     She did know that the mechanisms she had set up still worked: if she sucked long and hard at the water dildo, she could get a drink.  If she sucked hard at the ventilator dildo, she could get air to breathe.  If she sucked hard at the food dildo, she would get something to eat (though it was never very good, and sometimes it was horrible).  Wherever the box was, someone knew she was inside, and was maintaining the box's support systems so she could live -- barely.

     She also knew that from time to time, a nasty-smelling gas would be pumped into the box, and she would fall asleep, and wake up some time later with a splitting headache.  When that happened, her "diaper pail" would be empty, and she'd have a fresh supply of disposable diapers.  Sometimes other things would have changed, also: she had built the box with just a single peephole  -- now there were four of them, and she knew that she could never know when an eager audience was gloating over her captivity, or whether she were being recorded, perhaps even shown live on a web site.

 Once, she had awakened with her head throbbing, had a long drink and then turned to the food dildo -- only to find it gone, replaced with a little hatch which was latched on the outside.   As unmeasured hours crept on, the thought grew and could not be dismissed, that her captors (keepers?  owners?)  had become tired of her, and she would simply be left to starve.

     When the hatch had opened, and then a dildo had been inserted, she had eagerly sucked at it, only to have her mouth filled with a fine spray that numbed the back of her throat.  When it was withdrawn, she discovered she could no longer speak.

     The hatch was plugged after that, and when it opened again some hours later and an erect penis was thrust inside, she understood that she had better take good care of it if she wanted to eat again.

     All of the "practice" she had been getting from the dildoes seemed to have paid off, judging by how the cock spurted in her mouth in very short order.  Compared with some of the things that had come out of the food dildo, the semen was quite good-tasting, and Vera swallowed all of it.  That was something new for her, also.

     A few minutes later, the hatch opened again and another cock poked into the box.  Over the next few hours, Vera sucked about a dozen.  She knew the job was finished when the food dildo was fitted into the hatch.  By then, though, her stomach was quite full, and she simply went to sleep.

     When Vera awoke, she found she could talk again, although only in a squeaky little voice, as though she had inhaled helium.  It took what she guessed was the better part of a day for her voice to return to normal.

     She talked to the inside of the box, hoping someone was listening.  She promised not to talk, assured her captors over and over that she would not try to talk to the men so they didn't need to put that stuff in her throat -- Vera was afraid it might permanently damage her voice.

     There was no answer, and the next time the food dildo was withdrawn, the medicine dildo was offered again.  Vera sighed and deep-throated it submissively.

     Soon Vera had become accustomed to this new element in her existence within the box: from time to time, the glory hole would open, her vocal cords would be paralyzed, she would give six or a dozen blowjobs and then the hole would close again.

 As the months rolled on (or was it weeks?  or years?  How many times had she menstruated into her diaper?), she wondered whether she would ever be freed from the box, and whether she would be able to function out in the wider world.  Would her legs allow her to walk?  Would her eyes ever adjust to daylight, after months in the dimness of glow sticks?  Would she still be able to talk normally, after all that throat-Botox and all this time with no-one to talk with?

     She tried to imagine what she would look like, crawling from the box, white as a grub, her hair unwashed and untrimmed, more hair grown out on her legs and vulva.  Ecch.  At least inside the box, she didn't have to look at herself.

     And living inside the box wasn't so bad, really.  She had gotten used to it: suck a dildo for air, another for water, a third for food.  Suck cocks when the glory hole opened, otherwise be left in peace.  Change her diaper when she needed to, clean herself with wet wipes when she was itchy.

     On the other hand, if she ever did get out of the box, she would find out who had done this to her.   

     And she, he or they would pay . . . .