The Experiment

Project Perfect:

Perfect people - at least, as near to perfect as you can probably get. Untainted. Pure. Wild.

She was stunning - lithe and dark, with hair that shone with a bright luster despite never having experienced the wonders of 2 in 1.

Some of the scientists - though they'd never admit it, of course (unprofessional behavior being the Greatest Sin) - would dearly love to observe her on a much closer, more personal level. Doctor Varla Martus, spearheading the whole experiment, often wondered whether any other members of the team secretly masturbated over their copies of the weekly report, complete with photos of behavior and even an occasional interesting video tape.

And the male!

Conjecture failed Varla at this point, for the male specimen exceeded all expectation. Despite some of the female scientists getting an occasional dreamy look in their eye - peering vaguely into some violently sexual fantasy - Varla doubted any of them were too sorry to be unable to take a closer look at Him. His virility was insatiable - and the way that he carelessly and violently mounted the demure female - regardless of time or lack of response to his brutal foreplay - often made Varla grit his teeth and clench his fists angrily. The muscle-bound specimen had committed violent rape before the team's eyes at least twice a day, everyday, since the pair were placed together some three weeks since. The scientist sometimes considered separating them - giving her a break, as it were, but His daily activity had become focused around her protection and (so He thought) fulfillment, and despite her own fear and abused body she, for her part, had seemed to lose her sufficiency, had become demure and reliant - a possession. Varla doubted either would survive if he removed them from each others' company.

Besides - the experiment relied upon totally natural conditions. No intervention could be tolerated.

During the moments of copulation - with the savage grunts and shrieks and sobs ringing out into the lab through seven black plastic speakers - the team would stare intensely into the multitude of monitors , concealing as best they could impromptu erections or suddenly reddening cheeks, jotting frenzied notes in vain hope of generating the scientific and professional illusion. Varla felt like a kid watching a porno flick for the first time every time the big brute took his pleasures. They'd discussed naming the specimens for ease of reporting - the 19 year old 'She' and the 18 year old 'He' (the male gamete had been a little harder to generate) made specifications difficult and convoluted, but Varla knew that names would just make it harder to forget they were human - harder to think of them as.... ....Things.

Standing there in his office - glaring forlornly at the huge screen mounted on the wall showing the male pinning Her bruised and violated body against a tree in the enclosure, Varla realized he already knew that neither were Things. The small tent forming in the fabric of his trousers was silent testament to that. He finally admitted to himself, watching her squeals of pain turn to reluctant moans of pleasure, that he was very, very jealous of the male.

Two weeks later - when the pregnancy was confirmed, the male escaped.

Like his job there was complete.

They never properly figured out how he'd managed it - the enclosure was too large to electrify totally, but the small maintenance hatch he'd ripped from the wall (leaving half the skin of his fingers behind) had enough clout to knock a 200 pound man down.