A Small Accident
By Musuko

From: musukomassiel
To: lindadesoto
Sent: 16:26 02/01/2013
Subject: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Linda,

Let’s NOT do that again!!!!!!!

Musuko.
CEO Clever Kitty Creations

From: lindadesoto
To: musukomassiel
Sent: 16:28 02/01/2013
Subject: Re: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Musuko,

Agreed! :(

Regards,

Linda DeSoto
Personal Assistant to Musuko Massiel

musukomassiel-privatelog-020113-01.doc

It started with an anonymously-placed suggestion into the new year’s party ideas box. It was a printed note, fingerprint-free, and must have been printed outside the company, as our network records show no traces of it. My conclusion has been to hope that one of my employees had the stupid one day and brought it in from home, and to fear that a rival company snuck it in. I have my suspicions which, but nothing concrete.
It seemed innocent enough. These things always do. Just a short note:

Integrate an X-115 module into an instance of X-32 and allow it to roam amongst us at the party. Imagine how fun it’d be!

Linda passed the suggestion to me along with about a dozen others that had passed her initial filtering. She had affixed a note to this one in particular, marked with only one thing: a smiley face. I quickly understood why. The suggestion did seem appealing.
	X-115 had only recently passed early safety screening, and was in the early stages of entering mass alpha testing. It showed great promise, however, and I was as eager to get my paws on it as most of the rest of the staff were. That was a little out of the ordinary, because X-115 wasn’t an ordinary toy. X-115 wasn’t a toy at all. X-115 was software.
	Okay, that belittles what we really had. X-115’s complex and evolving software delivered to us a personality, one that could be integrated into almost any medium we had, into almost any toy, and provide a new spark of life and interest into the most mundane of items, taking over the toy’s integral mechanisms and augmenting them with some additional abilities (if we helped it along with a handful of slaved nanobots), allowing a degree of autonomy and emotion and self-determination.
	In short, we had figured out a way to give a soul to sex toys.
	It was all simulated, of course. It could never pass a Turing test, and any deep probing into the way it acted and responded would very quickly hit its limitations. But there was something immensely fascinating about a dildo that would vibrate on its own accord whenever it got near bare flesh, or attempt to wriggle its way out of drawers and roll across rooms, like a lonely puppy seeking out its owner. It became very easy to anthropomorphise a lump of phallically-shaped plastic and rubber when it would sometimes stop vibrating and give a cheeky wriggle of its tip when its user got close to orgasm, somehow managing to spin its motors in just such a way as to make a sound almost like an electronic giggle.
	We tried implanting X-115 into all sorts of toys, and no matter what variable we altered, and no matter what the toy, we always seemed to end up with the same personality: mischievous, playful, ever so slightly wicked, but fundamentally pleasant and eager to please. It was perfect!
	I even used it myself, in private. I installed X-115 into a vibrating butt-plug and locking harness and wore it for a day. At least, that was my intention. The little devil kept stubbornly locked tight and completely inactive and unresponsive for two full days. I was almost about to head to the labs to get it deactivated and checked for bugs. But on my way past my little Roo’s nursery, it started to vibrate, then stopped once I was past the door. So I doubled back. The closer I got to the door, the stronger it vibrated.
	It stopped the moment I stepped through the door, but then started up again when I walked into the room. Roo was asleep in his crib, cuddling his favourite plushie (a frankly adorable likeness of his daddy Musuko), and didn’t stir. The plug’s vibration varied as I moved through the room, and I realised what was happening.
	Huckle Buckle Buttplug!
	I explored the room, allowing the varying vibration to guide me, interpreting the stronger buzz as “warmer” and the weaker buzz as “colder”. I was slowly being turned to horny jelly. As I got close to Roo’s changing table, it felt like I was going to fall over. And when I touched my paw to one of his fresh, folded nappies, I did.
	And the vibration stopped. I had the nappy in my paw. I moved to stand, and the vibration teased me on low. Experimenting, I moved my paw and the nappy around.
	And I realised. The vibration got stronger the closer I moved the nappy to my body. Specifically, the closer I moved it to my rear.
	Ahem.
	The plug made a motorised giggling noise as soon as I had the nappy taped on myself. And the harness clicked unlocked only after I had wet the nappy, three hours later.
	Everyone else who gave X-115 similar unofficial tests reported variations on the same theme: unexpected and highly-enjoyable teases and humiliations that never harmed and never pushed limits. It was wonderful, and we expected it to be popular. We were even starting to name the personality: the imp.
	So the suggestion of the imp running around inside an X-32 was an absolute winner. I added one comment to Linda’s note and sent it back to her.
	“Any chance we can have more than one?”

Product definition file X-32 “Putty”

Release history: a0.1 a0.2 a0.3 a0.31 b0.4 b0.41 b0.42 r1.0 r1.01

Description: Soft, pink, malleable autonomous substance resembling modeling clay. Organic in nature, formed of pseudo-bacteria (reference file X04529343-912 regarding creation), capable of instinct-driven response and movement, depending on the amount of contiguous material, increasing in capability with increased material, reaching maximum at 22.9kg, a level subjectively assessed at being on a par with most (non-anthro) canines. Capable of forming itself into simple shapes (such as oblate spheroids or wormlike tapered cylinders) and achieving locomotion via the movement of protrusions as crude limbs or, more commonly, the use of undulations or flexing tendrils. Capable of sensing heat, and is attracted towards moderate heat sources, which tends to draw it towards its food source; sweat. Secretes an odourless water-based liquid from it’s whole form as a waste product, which generally evaporates (unless overfed, leading to excessive moisture), and does not gain in mass through feeding. Mass gain is provided via proprietary enzymes obtainable only from the company.

Application: Autonomous massager/groomer/pet/sexual aid. When feeding, it will move across the surface of a person or animal’s fur and “groom” by combing the fur with fine tendrils. This experience has been subjectively described as “a pleasant massage” in normal circumstances, or as “pleasantly/unpleasantly tickling” when feeding after a long fasting period (more than two days without feeding). Will attempt to feed from bare skin, such as genitalia, providing sexual stimulation from the combing movement.

Price: Available on request by Silver Grade or above customers.

musukomassiel-privatelog-020113-02.doc

Arrangements were quickly made. The imp was loaded into ten blobs of putty, weighing 20kg each, and kept in isolated pens for six days until the new year’s party. Each pen was furnished with a restrained test subject (strapped spread-eagle, face up, standard restraints with bio-support feed/waste fixtures) to provide feeding for the putty and stimulation for the imp personality controlling it.
	It was a lot of fun to watch the imp tease those poor test subjects. By the end of the first day, every single one of the ten putty blobs had independently learned how to detach the waste fixture from the penises and vaginas of the test subjects and spent much of the rest of the following nine days stimulating those areas, teasing and pleasing, denying and granting orgasm, seemingly at the whims of the ten duplicate imp personalities.
	Some progress was made, however, to vary their attentions to make them more entertaining in the party. Via the use of robotic arm, each imp putty was periodically relocated to another area of the test subjects’ bodies. We recorded some very interesting data, and we will have a lot to analyse. The imp seemed eager to tickle any spot other than the genitalia, regardless of its level of “hunger” for sweat. It seemed to be in a state of perpetual greed, and wriggled its tendrils and nubs frantically, never slowing, which had the invariable effect of sending the test subjects into helpless fits of laughter for the two or three hours the putty typically lingered before crawling back towards the genitals.
	At the time, I assumed this was the extent of the imp’s modification of the putty’s usual tendencies and abilities. Pleased with what I saw, I authorised the use of nine of the putty blobs for the party, and had the tenth sent to my personal suite to enjoy later.

Private diary of Linda DeSoto, entry for 2nd January 2013, transcribed with permission.

Dear Diary,

I really thought the party was going to be a hit. It started so well! Everyone had drinks and the music was just right. Musuko had been so generous in approving the use of the gallery hall. And we had nearly fifty volunteer party slaves to add to the thirty contracted test subjects serving out the nibbles. It was great! Everyone was letting down their hair, and just as planned the lights were slowly dimming as the night went on, and there was a lot of naughtiness going on in the dark nooks.
	I didn’t join in myself. I had work to do, sadly. Busy busy! Got to keep everything flowing. Whenever I spotted any groups starting to look a bit bored, I’d snag the nearest party slave and send them over and they’d soon find something to do! I twice had to suggest the DJ turn the volume up to compete with all the moans and whimpers coming from all over the place.
	As planned, we released the putties just before midnight, sneaking them in via pet carriers and letting them out at floor level. In the dark, it was hard to see them, and that was the idea. I watched from the mezzanine level. The little blobs scooted their way between people’s feet, seeming confused for a bit. But one by one they nudged at ankles and climbed legs. Their chosen targets reacted with expected surprise, but all calmed down at what they saw. Everyone knew what putties were, after all, and they were soon getting a lot of happy attention. One group got hold of one and had placed it over the soles of a slave in stocks, enjoying the tickle show that resulted.
	Then the countdown started for midnight. Everyone’s glasses went up. Well, everyone who could raise one. There were a lot of bound paws in the room! The bongs striking twelve reverberated around the room, and the cheers drowned out the squeals and cries of those who were celebrating the turn of the year in rather more...intense style.
	I realised along with most everyone else that something was amiss as the last chime tailed away and the swell of cheers filled the room. Amongst the jubilation was the distinct sound of screaming, and not of the usual fun kind. Confused conversation rippled around the hall, until attention finally settled on the source. Or rather...sources.
	Nine furs, one in stocks, the others loose and moving, were covered toes to neck in the putties, like latex suits. They weren’t the ones screaming; they were laughing. Howls of laughter! Like I had never seen! They were beyond insensible. It was crazy!
	The screams came from those around them. They were up and walking like zombies, arms out and grasping. At the paws, the putty reached out with tendrils a few inches long, swaying and groping. I watched as one of them got hold of a young volunteer slave, who I recognised as Amy from HR, a sweet little kitten I’d spent some happy times with recently. The poor girl fell to her back, struggling to fend off a putty-covered equine. She shrieked in ticklish panic as the tendrils wormed in under her arms. Others piled in, trying to pull her free.
	But then...the putty spread. And they recoiled away. Because in moments, Amy was covered too, rising to her feet and beginning her lurch for new victims, her face a scrunched up wail of giggling, her paws turned to tendrils. She and the equine advanced on new victims. The story was repeating all over the hall, and the screams became a panicked swell of noise, and the crowd rushed for the doors.
	I bolted through the mezzanine exit and pressed my palm against the door scanner. The impassive voice of G.I.M.P asked for my instruction.
	I confess to having a bit of a thrill saying the words. They were so dramatic. “Seal off the gallery hall and sound the alarm!”
	Down came the shutters. Some partygoers managed to duck under them in time. The alarms whooped and blazed red. Security personnel materialised from various corners and corridors, as they tended to do. One approached me, a rather hunky-looking red dragon, and I explained in hurried, shaky breaths.
	He was pretty cool about it all. His calm expression didn’t flinch. He just nodded and spoke into his radio. They would catch any “infected” if they’d got past the barriers. I took care to notice his badge.
	K. Stephens. Security. Look him up later. Very sexy.
	I made my way around the building’s wing, checking every exit point from the gallery hall. Security guards watched every shutter, their stun prods out and ready. I patted a few butts and voiced my encouragement. They seemed to have the situation under control. Well, contained at least.
	Then the “oh shit” moment hit. Musuko. He had one in his suite.
	I grabbed the nearest three guards, and we ran!

musukomassiel-privatelog-020113-03.doc

I excused myself from the party just after eleven. I had my own rituals for the turning of the year. This year might not be exactly the same as normal, of course, but the spirit was the same. Into restraints I would go, and under the control of a tormenter I would be as the bells rang. I thought of it as a humbling exercise, to remind myself that I wasn’t the ruler of all, and I myself was ruled...by my kinks, and those who could wield them.
	My first choice for tormenter, of course, was Terik. That’s because I’m a messed up little kitten. But the mouse wasn’t exactly an ‘on call’ torturer. And I doubted he would react well to my eagerness for his attention. It was a weird situation with him as it was. Didn’t need stirring!
	So, second choice...the putty. Strange, I know. But the idea had a certain charm to it. I set up some stocks, wrists and ankles. They were CKC brand, so not exactly normal. They were chromed metal, which metal I wasn’t exactly sure myself. Light and strong. The construct looked far too flimsy, but a bodybuilder couldn’t budge it. My ankles went together in the middle, and my wrists either side of them. The padded holes expanded to trap the limbs, snug and tight but ever so comfortable. A pre-programmed safeword spoken out loud would release me. Failing that, a six hour timer would automatically release me.
	But then I had a thought. A devastatingly stupid thought. I tapped the control screen and disengaged the safeword. Six hours at the mercy of the putty. A sleepless night of ticklish torment. A nice way to start the year. I felt giddy just thinking about it, and I hurried to get myself in place before the knot in my stomach unwound and allow me to have second thoughts.
	I slid my wrists and ankles into the holes, waited the required three seconds, then heard the hiss and felt the rubbery grip take hold.
	“Open,” I said. In front of my feet, the pet carrier beeped in response to my voice. The light switched from red to green, and the door opened.
	The putty came undulating out straight away, seeking my paws. Its tendrils were up and wriggling, and I squirmed and scrunched my toes. Second thoughts time! I braced myself, as the first graze of its feathery touch met my heels.
	It was just as I had expected...and hoped for...and feared. The putty wriggled up my soles and covered them both entirely, wriggling its little nubs against my pads. I struggled by instinct, laughing and howling and begging. I was soon in tears, and would have safeworded if I could. This is why I turned it off. I didn’t want my weak will to end the fun.
	I lost track of time. An hour is a long time when you’re being tickled. I was gasping for breath between fits of giggles. The putty wouldn’t pause for even a moment. I kicked my paws and wriggled my toes as violently as I could, but I couldn’t shift it. I was in heaven and hell.
	I vaguely became aware of the sound of the chimes from the radio in the other room. One hour down. Five to go.
	But as the last chime finished, the tickling stopped. Just for a second. But it felt like a lifetime. Then...it started up again. I thought it was intense before, but this was entirely new. It wasn’t pleasant tickling any more. This was fierce! Sadistic! The nubs pressed in too hard. It kneaded my pads, making me scream with ticklish fury. It wasn’t the soft caress of feathers. This was the hard dig of claws!
	And...it spread. I could feel the tickling moving up my ankles. This was wrong! I kicked and thrashed, and screamed for help. It pushed in between my ankles and the rubber ring of the stocks. Up my calves, over my knees...I howled and felt like I would black out when it started tickling the backs of my knees. Up my thighs...I moaned in terror...it approached my crotch...
	I’d never felt anything like it. I felt like I would die! My cock felt like it would explode, and the itching tickling sensation swallowing my balls was maddening. I got so close to cumming...
	...and got no further. It edged me. And held me there. No closer, no further. A constant boiling need, right on the edge. My balls churned, my cock throbbed, ready to pump. But release wasn’t going to come.
	Up my tummy, digging into my sides. I screamed and screamed. It covered my chest, set my nipples alight with tingles that for a moment made me moan. But then it reached my armpits, and my screams began anew. I couldn’t stand a single second of it!
	Linda burst in as the putty had extended down my arms and reached my paws. I had never thought my palms would be so ticklish! I couldn’t struggle now. The thing gripped me all over. Whenever I tried to move, it resisted with the tendrils and wriggling nubs that lined the inside of its smooth skin covering me. I felt it pulling and tugging against the stocks. Linda reached me, gripping my cheeks with both paws, looking me in the eyes, trying to speak to me. Behind her, I just managed to make out three guards...trying to look professional.
	Linda fiddled with the stocks for a while. I could feel my paws trying to reach for her. Through the mind-crushing assault of tickling torture, I could vaguely discern her frustrated expression.
	She left...then came back with a sheet of paper. She held it up. I read. I screamed in despair, my thoughts managing only a moment of horrified clarity before the tickling once again consumed me.
	The paper read:

can deactivate it
but...
need to get you to lab 16 to do it
have to wait to the stocks let you go
sorry! :(

From: musukomassiel
To: CKC_PRODUCTDEVSTAFF_ALL
Sent: 16:45 02/01/2013
Subject: New project

Team,

Please obtain the nine (9) modified putties from the security staff and categorise them for testing and development.

Use the HIGHEST security category, and consult incident log GI-00912-B. Please do not underestimate the threat these objects represent.

Please also obtain CC000329 from the security staff. This subject was restrained in stocks during the incident, and is as present coated in the remaining active modified putty. Please use him for any required testing for long-term exposure. He has currently been exposed to the putty non-stop for nearly two days now. Security have done well to service his bodily requirements during this time.

You are likely to find him...quite insensible. Please do your best.

Musuko.
CEO Clever Kitty Creations

PS: I am well aware of the rumours that are currently circulating regarding my exposure to the putty. I can assure you that the rumours are 100% true. Anyone wishing to discuss the details with me is welcome to arrange a private meeting with me in my suite, where they will be able to find out exactly how long six hours can feel...