S2-ENF-003 - ACCIDENT

“I see,” said Dr. Angela Sharpe, coldly, folding her arms beneath her small breasts and glaring at Dr. Blithe as she tapped her foot against the lab’s white floor. “It was an accident.”

“Yep,” said Dr. Blithe.

“Like the time you accidentally locked Dr. Cifuentes in a disused storage unit overnight with a flock of tentacle invaders from Dimension Twelve.”

“That’s right.”

“Or the time you accidentally teleported an entire Artemis containment squad from the Level Fourteen women’s locker room to the Hollywood Bowl.”

“Sheerest misfortune.”

“Or the time you accidentally conditioned Dr. Lucent to drop her pants and dance the Macarena whenever she hears the words “indispensible” or “lucrative”.”

“I’m still trying to undo that.”

“Or that time you accidentally deleted every bra in Copenhagen.”

“I think I’ve almost figured out what I did wrong.”

“This is the last straw,” said Dr. Sharpe, frowning and looking at the gaping hole in reality that had opened up in the empty space at the center of Dr. Blithe’s lab. “I’ve had it up to here with you, Blithe. One more little accident and I’ll find myself with **** but to… whoops!” Incautiously, she had stepped too close to the gaping hole in reality, and now found herself tumbling forward.

With a sucking sound, the edges of the hole closed tight around Dr. Sharpe’s midriff.

Dr. Blithe stroked his chin, thoughtfully contemplating the lower half of Dr. Sharpe’s body, which was now sticking out of a sort of hazy electric cloud that floated in midair. The upper half of her body was nowhere to be seen. Where could it have gone?

In a spirit of experimentation, he reached out to touch the lower half of Dr. Sharpe’s body, and was rewarded by a startled jerking motion. She could definitely feel him, wherever she was.

“I ought to call for help,” said Dr. Blithe, aloud, to an empty room.

Then, accidentally, he pulled Dr. Sharpe’s pencil skirt down around her ankles, exposing long slender legs clad in black pantyhose and a small, pert bottom in sensible white panties. More kicking ensued. Dr. Blithe, prudently, took a few steps back, and passed the time by setting up a number of recording devices while he waited for her to calm down.

Accidentally, he peeled Dr. Sharpe’s panties and pantyhose down to around the level of her knees, baring her adorable derriere and the neatly groomed golden bush adorning her sensitive pink pussy lips. This, unsurprisingly, provoked more kicking. While dodging out of the way, Dr. Blithe accidentally activated one of the many robotic arms arranged in the center of the lab, around the place where the mysterious hole had manifested.

The robotic arm raised a large black rubber implement which bore a purely coincidental resemblance to a paddle, and brought its flat surface down. By sheer accident, it happened to target precisely the area of space in which Dr. Sharpe’s bottom was located.

Rather a lot of kicking was the scientific result.