Phase 2 has her frothing and phase 3 leaves her speechless

With the face of Tolstoy Sciences half-pressed upon the white chamber floor and the legs of Tolstoy Sciences suspended in the air, the woman who bore these various features struggled to right herself back into some position of dignity. To do so would mean breaking the machine holding her in place, but despite how much she'd attempted to bite and tear at the mechanical arms, they proved surprisingly sturdy. Given how thin the connectors forming the "arms" of these appendages were and the degree of rage she was applying to breaking them, she'd assumed she'd manage to tear one off eventually. "I'm warning you, Dotford: if you go after my underwear, I'm going to go back out into space, find that Reality Crystal again, and then wish you and everybody in that room out of existence!" Even as the words left her lips, Janet couldn't decide whether she actually meant that threat or not. Right now, it felt like a real possibility.

"Destroying the world once wasn't enough for you, huh?" The doctor sighed, adjusting his glasses as he manipulated another of the giant, mad science switches on the board behind him. "Beginning phase 2 of the cleaning procedures."

Two more appendages joined the others; these were metal tubes, ending in hose-like tips. The room was so full of writhing mechanical arms now, it was beginning to look like some sort of metal octopus was embedded beneath it, sticking each of his arms out as it suited him. While Janet was distracted by those, the hands dropped her onto her front. "Dammit!" the doctor cursed, quickly pushing up to all fours as she shook her head, disoriented.

The machine took that moment to snatch free her bra and panties in one quick motion, leaving her kneeling, naked, in the room. From that position, the other scientists would have a full side view of her nudity, obscured only a bit by her arm, which ran parallel to her her large, loose-hanging breasts. She turned her face to them with a look of shock, her teeth clenched and her face as red as the lingerie she'd just been deprived of. "Doootfoooooord! Do you really think that zombie's been in my panties!? Those aren't contaminated!" Heedless of her words, the machine's flamethrowers reduced those to ash next. The woman pushed up to seated position, raising one leg sheepishly to block a view of her groin and crossing her arms across her chest. "This is sexual harassment, nothing less! You can't get away with something like this just because you call it science, you idiots!"

The doctor behind the glass returned a sympathetic smile and a shrug, clearly conveying his unspoken words: "are we comparing the worst things we've done in the name of science now?" Instead of giving a spoken answer, he turned to press an oversized button next to the switch he'd thrown a moment ago. Janet was almost positive that button hadn't been there when she'd looked a moment ago.

Inside the room, Dr. Tolstoy watched in agitation as the hoses began to close in on her. "Wh-What is it this time? I don't have anything left to take!" Her imagination helpfully provided all sorts of perverse things those tendrils could be used for. In the end, she found she'd been stretching her expectations too far; the hoses were really set up to do just what hoses normally do. One nozzle began to dispense water like a fire-hose, blasting across her body, while the other released a foamy blast of soap suds across her. The woman managed to hold her position for just a moment before finding herself knocked off her bottom and down on her back. That state proved hard to recover from, due to the increased slickness of the floor; she found herself clawing to return to some kind of vertical base, but failing, instead simply flopping around on the floor with her arms and legs flailing. "This is an outrage! What the hell is this supposed to be?!"

"Decontamination procedure."

"Decontamination procedure?! This?! Grrrblrurbrlbr!" The hose had started blasting her in the face, along with the suds, forcing her to close both her eyes and her mouth. Out of one squinted eye, she spotted Doctor Bennet chuckling to himself as he manipulated a joystick remote, presumably attached to the hose. In spite of the stinging of the soap, she opened her eye again to give the large man a **** glare.

Finally, the hose died down... Janet was left, breathing hard with a mix of exertion and indignation, with her shoulders pressed against the wall and her legs splayed beneath her. Thankfully for her, the soap suds did a "just-right" job of covering her most private areas, although little else. It was the type of coincidence that could only occur in a dream. "Well, I'd say we're almost done with the cleaning procedure. I'll initiate phase 3. Hold still, ma'am."

Dr. Tolstoy was too exhausted to do otherwise. She didn't want to use any more of her energy fighting back until this nightmare of a cleaning procedure wrapped up and she could actually get her hands on the scientists. As such, she watched, dead-eyed, while two gloved, mechanical hands approached, one holding a towel and the other holding something small like a deck of cards. Her imagination failed her; she couldn't imagine what she was in for this time. The towel, at least, was pretty predictable... it began to circle her body, wiping up the water and soap. Again, she didn't fight it, simply accepted its somewhat rough cleaning. A warm towel after a bath was hardly the worst peril she'd faced lately. "So, what's the other holding? Milk? I hear some people drink milk after a bath," the doctor joked, wearing as wry a smile as she could manage.

Instead, the fingers pinched hold of what looked like some sort of advertisement sticker, like you'd see at a supermarket, yellow and framed in a red oval. It shook the thing out to give it a crisp shape, then brazenly slapped the thing across one of Janet's breasts. It repeated the procedure once again, then a third time, until both breasts and her slit were covered by the jumbo-sized product stamps. Upon each was written:

"100% Clean! Certified by Tolstoy Sciences"

"Ha ha... Heh hehehe... You bastard sons of-" Janet Tolstoy laughed around her clenched teeth, then turned cross-eyed as a final sticker was slapped over her mouth. She wanted to see the book where they'd written that this would be a standard cleaning procedure. Finally, the hands ended by tying her hands together behind her back using something like a zip-tie. This was a hazing... like something out of a frat house, although with all of the malice of a body of scientists who'd been abused by an immortal zombie created by the hands of their boss. "Maybe I'm lucky to be getting off as light as I am. I did say I'd submit myself to whatever punishment the cosmic forces deemed appropriate. But is this really what's appropriate?!" She thrashed her legs angrily as she mused to herself, then stood back up to her feet, realizing she was finally unmolested by any hands or hoses. Nearly the full of her body was displayed, down to an uncovered tuft of neat pubic hair, uncovered by the sticker over her pussy. Her pleasantly round and youthful- yet meaty- ass was entirely exposed, but she hardly cared about that next to the humiliation of being dubbed "100% clean" by these meat packing stickers.

"You said you hadn't come into contact with any aliens, Dr. Tolstoy." Lang's face was serious, despite the ridiculous situation.

The doctor rolled her eyes, then nodded. It wasn't as though she could verbally confirm or give anybody a thumbs-up.

"That was a lie, wasn't it? The one who came here with you is an alien, isn't she? We've just finished her cleaning as well. Step outside the chamber..."

Janet squinted her still-stinging eyes in disbelief as the door to the chamber opened up, creating a perfect rectangle of an exit in the wall. She stumbled towards it slowly, feeling as though it would take every ounce of her self-restraint to avoid tackling Dotford with her shoulder the moment she got out. Why should she even care about meeting back up with Lockhart at this point? Then again... maybe Lockhart was the closest thing she had to a friend here. A non-hostile presence, at least.

How ironic that Janet should be thinking about the Tower's opponent in such a way. The irony wouldn't be lost on Jervale later, but for now, Janet and Lockhart could consider themselves as sisters in trouble.

Speaking of Lockhart...