Decontamination Protocol
by Mecca
Image by Harriotta
It was dark. Without ambient light from street lamps, stoplights, and billboards, Olivia Beckett found it quite difficult to navigate at night. Sure, the stars were easier to see in the absence of the city’s light pollution. But unless the moon was out, the heavens provided little aid in her nocturnal adventures. Moving at night was impossible without tools.
Beckett crouched in front of a wooden fence, trying to determine whether she was in the right place. It was indeed a fence in front of a large building, but it was difficult to tell if this was truly her home or not. Using her makeshift night vision—a handheld video camera with an infrared light—she scanned the fence for the entry.
She found it. Beckett walked up and pressed the buzzer to no visible effect. No light flickered, nor sound signaled her request was sent. It was as if no one was home and perhaps the buzzer didn't even work. But even though the compound was silent and dark, Beckett knew someone was always watching, and the buzzer battery was checked daily. So while she was anxious to get back inside, she waited patiently for the gates to open.
A few moments passed before the intercom screeched, “Who’s there?”
It was no surprise that the speaker couldn't tell who she was. She was covered head to toe in gear, including a respirator that covered her face. While they would usually let in anyone who knew to press the buzzer, it wasn't unusual to ask for identification. Eager to get home, she spoke with haste, “It’s Beckett!” The gate buzzed and unlocked. She pushed inside, making sure there was no one—or no thing—following behind her.
Beyond the gate, she passed through wooden spikes, razor wire, and other makeshift obstacles intended to keep creatures, bandits, and infected humans away. They all looked shoddy and hastily-crafted, but this was intentional. No one was supposed to know this building, an old hospital, was now a reinforced facility housing hundreds of survivors. Looking at it from the outside, the old decrepit building with homemade barricades didn’t look like much. It looked as if it could be perhaps housing a small family of squatters. But from the inside, you’d never know that the apocalypse had occurred.
Beckett ignored the front doors, which were booby trapped, and slid between barriers to find a side entrance. It had been unlocked for her when they buzzed her in. She closed the door, hearing it lock with a click.
In the large dark room, with only a single dim red light to see by, the voice boomed over an intercom. “Remove all your clothes and put on the cuffs.” As opposed to the voice outside, which sounded scratchy, disoriented, and uncouth, this was firm, authoritative, and a bit robotic. There was no guise of this being some squatter’s humble abode.
The first part of the command was expected. Having been outside in the quarantined area for even one minute meant she needed to be stripped and cleansed. The second part was new. In the empty room, there was a lone table with strange looking black handcuffs.
Beckett dropped her hood and pulled off her respirator so they could see who she was. Even though she couldn’t see the person giving commands, she knew they could see her. “It’s me, Dr. Olivia Beckett,” she explained again, removing her coat. There was silence as she kicked off her boots and placed her weapons on the table. She pulled up her shirt and looked at the cuffs again. “I’m a senior science officer. Do I really need to do this?”
“Remove all your clothes and put on the cuffs!” repeated the voice. “We won’t ask again.” Just for effect, they moved the gun turret that she had forgotten was in the wall.
“Okay, okay,” she said, popping off her bra. She sighed, removing her thong. She wasn’t upset at being nude. Sure, that was a little embarrassing, but she’d only be nude for a short moment as she went through the sanitation chamber. She was mostly upset at the handcuffs. She wasn’t a stranger and she wasn’t infected, so she didn’t understand the need for this extra precaution. She strapped the hard plastic cuffs around her left and right wrists and pulled them tight with a rapid ratcheting sound. She wouldn’t be able to free herself without help. In the middle of the cuffs, between her two wrists was a black plastic bar. She wasn’t sure what that was for. She hoped it wasn’t for her crotch. Nude and cuffed, she stood and waited for her next command.
“Good enough,” the voice said.
Thankfully, the door opened instead and she entered an empty, grey, dimly-lit room. She closed her eyes, as instructed, and waited for the inevitable chemical spray. A sharp-smelling fluid sprayed from the ceiling all over her pale, lithe body. A few different chemicals rained down on her soft skin, ridding her of the dirt and grime, and hopefully any infection, that she might have accumulated on the outside. Lastly, sterilized water washed all the chemicals away and the frothy soup swirled around the drains by her feet. The next doors opened and she proceeded forward to the next room.
Two men in white hazmat suits awaited her in the next room. She was still nude and as wet as the bottom of a boat, her long dark brown hair scarcely covering her nipples.
“Where are the clothes?” she looked around. “Why’s he holding a gun?”
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” said the first man cautiously, approaching her slowly. “I’m just going to put on the collar.”
Beckett looked down at the pole between her handcuffs. Is that what that was? “Wait, what’s all this? Where’s Dr. Jones? He knows me.”
“Don’t move a muscle!” screamed the first man, his voice erratic. He turned to his partner and said, “If she lunges, shoot us both.” The second man, raised his sub-machine gun and pointed it at her face.
“Whoa, okay,” said Beckett, raising her handcuffed hands, appalled and scared by this departure in protocol. “I won’t!” She couldn’t see who these men were; behind the face shields, they wore face masks and goggles. Not an inch of their flesh was exposed.
By contrast, Beckett was completely exposed and growing more anxious every second. Something had to be wrong if safety measures had been increased in her absence. What had happened? Had there been a breach? Was Jones okay? Why were these guys so scared of her?
The first man pulled the pole up from between her handcuffs and pulled a collar out of the hollow opening. He tightened the plastic collar around her neck slowly, lifting her hair so he could access everything. Beckett stood very still, suddenly very aware of her nudity. She felt a chill run across her wet body. She dared not even shiver, not while she was at gunpoint, but felt goosebumps rise and her nipples harden. The man finished tightening her collar.
Now that she was collared, handcuffed, and the cuffs were attached to her neck via the pole, she was effectively in a yoke. This strongly hindered her arm movement, forcing her wrists to always be 50 centimeters from her neck at all times, no more, no less.
The first man breathed a sigh of relief, then grabbed a long black pole with pinching grabber at the end. Beckett flinched in confusion and then understood clearly when she felt him pull at her neck. He was keeping his distance with this two-meter pole and directing her body wherever he wanted her to go, or she would choke or fall. They were treating her like she was infected.
“Wait,” she coughed, the collar tight around her neck. “I’m still- Wait, what’s happening?”
The second man punched in a code and opened the door. The first man led her into the hallway and both men followed. The second man aimed his gun again as they walked.
This part of the facility was familiar. Bright lights, white walls, and clean surfaces. This is where she had lived and worked for the last 8 months before her little adventure on the outside. She had been studying the infection, running experiments, and collaborating with Dr. Jones and a few other scientists. And now she was being treated like one of the infected: a danger to herself and others until contained.
She was marched through the hallway, still fully nude, sliding on wet feet across the wet tile. This was utterly humiliating. If any facility resident into the hallway, they would see her tiny brown nipples on her tiny tits, and her furry snatch. There were no razors on the outside, and while she had tried to keep it trim when she was living here, her busy schedule had given her bush a head start. Beckett she was a very attractive woman, but still felt deep shame about her flat chest, flat butt, and the unruly state of her pubic hair. And she was totally exposed right now. Anyone could see her fully nude body, utterly lacking in femininity.
But the lack of a word from the men piqued her anxiety. Not only was she nude and humiliated, she didn’t know where they were going. Were they going to do a deep search on her? Why wasn’t her cleansing in the sterilization room good enough? Why the handcuffs? Would Jones see her like this? She was deeply afraid that Jones, a man she thoroughly admired, would see her in this state. Not just nude with her small tits jiggling in the hallway, but trussed up like a criminal. Or worse, an infected. Most infected, even with the newest medical technology, ended up dead in a matter of days or even hours. She could scarcely imagine his disappointment if he thought she was infected.
“Wait, stop! I’m not infected,” she shouted. “Check my body! No bites! Will you stop for a second? I don’t have any bites!” Beckett yelped as she slipped and almost lost her balance, but she caught herself before she fell. And the men marched on, saying nothing.
“At least let me put on a gown! This is crazy!” Beckett closed her eyes as they rounded the corner. She was passing the mess hall, which could have dozens of survivors during dinner time. And they would see her naked as the day she was born, on a leash like some crazy person instead of a scientist and respected resident of the facility.
...Beckett opened one eye, checking to see how crowded the mess hall was so she would know how embarrassed to be. There were five or so people, eating, reading, or conversing. She supposed it made sense. It was about 10pm by her calculations. But none of them looked up at her. Did they not know a nude woman was being paraded through the halls? Was this that frequent of an event? She supposed she should be relieved, but it did little to assuage her humiliation.
Finally they passed a man in the hallway. The stranger had on a face mask and was grabbing a mop from the supply closet. Beckett didn’t recognize him.
“Out of the way!” called the first man to the stranger. The stranger apologized and hurried down the hallway to wherever he was going with the mop, stopping only for a second to see what was happening with the nude woman.
Beckett hung her head, trying to hide her crimson face in her hair, but most of her hair had been pulled back when the collar had been applied. She avoided his gaze but could see him stare for a moment. She was so embarrassed! Marched nude down the hallway like an animal. Then she remembered his eyes.
“Kenneth! Kenneth, it’s Dr. Beckett! Get Jones!” She didn’t know if he heard her. When she tried to stop and turn around, the first man shoved her forward and she almost fell on her face.
“Keep going!” the first one finally said.
Finally, they stopped in front of Clean Room 2. The man with the gun punched in the code for the room and the trio entered.
It was a standard office. All sorts of medical and scientific equipment sat on the shelves of the room. Medical kit on one wall, mirror on the other. There was a closet, some cabinets, and also a small white desk. She and Jones only used this room for storage. But Beckett had a feeling that these two men were about to do more than look up some files.
The second man pressed some numbers on the intercom and informed whomever was on the other line, “We have her. Get here quickly.”
Meanwhile, Beckett was freaking out. While she had an idea of what was next, it was really just a guess. They could do anything they wanted while she was tied up like this. But before she could ask, they gave her a command.
“Arms on the table. Put your cuffs in the brace.”
Beckett nervously did as she was told. She noticed that there was a metal bracket on top of the desk, and her cuffs would fit into it perfectly. Facing the wall, she snapped her bonds into the desk. She was bent over, ass out, over the desk, with her face mere centimeters from the wall. Her small, tight bottom was on display to anyone who walked in the room. If they wanted to fondle or fuck her, they could and she could do nothing about it except maybe kick at them. Her collar prevented her from turning her head to even see who was behind her. She could only turn her head slightly sideways and see the men behind her out of the corner of her eye.
“I have to pee,” she told them. The men ignored her.
The scared scientist was sure that next was a cavity search. And that was the best scenario. She didn’t know why they would do a cavity search though. Aliens typically only bit on the arms, legs, and face, not the genitals nor the chest. Furthermore, she had checked herself daily and never found anything close to a bite.
One man flicked a switch and the top of the desk folded down. Beckett fell forward along with the transforming desk.
“Wha-ohhhh!”
Now she was bent all the way over, arms parallel to her legs, and her face looking directly at the floor. Her ass remained high in the air, slightly more accessible. She squeezed a few tears out at how obscenely exposed she was.
“Spread your legs,” commanded one of the men.
She realized she was correct and it was doubly confirmed when she felt fingers probing her parts. This was a cavity search. They clearly wouldn’t believe her own words about not being bitten. Nor would they listen to her experience about how aliens don’t bite in the genital area. They would poke, prod, and pry her most private parts that she hadn’t shown to anyone except her doctors and lovers. And she highly doubted these men were doctors. They probably were not even nurses or any other medical experts. The apocalypse had forced a lot of people into jobs based on the need. She surmised this was one such case.
Not content with just prying apart her cheeks and labia, she felt latex-covered fingers enter her anus and vagina. At the same time.
"Huhhhn," Beckett gasped. She was shocked. How could he properly tell if she had something wrong with her if he was “examining” both holes at the same time? This was not a proper examination. Nothing about this was standard. She was certain they were just fondling her for their own amusement. She had been relying on them to act like medical professionals, but this appeared to be just a rape.
“Hey! Is this an inspection or foreplay?” was the meanest thing she could choke out between tears. She knew the second man still held a gun and that fighting back was not an option.
The door opened and she heard Dr. Jones’s voice.
“Find any lesions?” asked Jones.
“Nothing,” said the first man, withdrawing his hand from the Beckett’s guts.
“Jonesy!” cried Beckett. “Please, release me. I’m not infected. I’ve had no bites.”
It was quiet for a moment. Why wasn’t he responding?
“Okay, Barnaby, get Forcep,” said Jones. As the men got busy opening cabinets, Jones bent over to talk to Beckett face-to-face. Even with his face mask on, Beckett was so happy to see his familiar eyes.
“I’m sorry, Liv. The infection… mutated. We have strict protocols now.”
This was a relief. The men’s stern silence, the rush to inspect her, the cavity check… there was purpose behind the changes. Before she could ask questions, she felt a smooth plastic object being placed on her butt cheeks.
“This is the only way to detect the infection for sure now,” said Jones, frankly. “And... I won't lie. It’s going to hurt a little bit.” He stood again, and Beckett was all by herself again. Just her and the floor, while the men talked amongst themselves. What was Forcep? It didn’t feel like medical forceps.
A loud whir sounded and the device vibrated against her small bottom. She felt pressure against her anus and suddenly a smooth object penetrated her asshole, like a small penis or very thick finger. Having never been a fan of anal sex, it felt huge to Beckett. She screamed.
“Almost done, almost done,” said Jones.
It got bigger, louder, and grew hot. Beckett could no longer remain calm and even the presence of Jones was no solace. Her ass hurt and it was growing worse every second. She wanted to think of a logical reason they were doing this, but it hurt too much to think logically. All she could think was that they were anally raping her and there was no good reason for that. Even Jones was in on it? The man she had respected so much these last few months?
It got even bigger, even louder, and went so deep into her ass that it felt like it was pushing against her stomach. She screamed and screamed, feeling nauseated, hot, and sweaty. Rivers of tears poured down her face. She couldn’t hear herself think. There was nothing but the sound and the loud device drilling her asshole and ripping her apart.
And suddenly it was over. The device withdrew from her bottom with a wet pop and was silent. What had actually felt like forever had been just ten seconds of pain.
Beckett still felt disoriented and her ass felt like she had just taken on a gangbang. Then men unstrapped her from the desk and then removed her cuffs and collar. She sat on the floor, looking down at her wet thighs and puddle around her ass. She looked up at Jones.
“I peed,” she said, dazed, to her mentor.
Jones was smiling and looked ultimately relieved. “That’s fine,” he said, shaking his head in empathy. “Oh, you were brave, Liv. It’s all over, Liv.” He barked at the men to get her clothes and a towel and they left the room. “It’s all over. You’re not infected.”
“That’s what I tried to tell you,” said Beckett bitterly.
“No, you’re not infected anymore,” said Jones. He held up a little glass container. Inside it was a little alien worm, no longer than 5 centimeters. The little parasite curled and flexed futilely against its glass prison. “You’re safe now.”
Despite the harrowing experience she had just had, she looked at Jones’s smiling face and completely safe. She sobbed, not because of the pain or humiliation, but because she felt limitless joy and appreciation. He had just saved her life. She remembered why she loved him. He would always keep her safe.