Prisoner of War

The researchers gathered in the bunker, three hundred meters below the surface, with a fresh specimen from the other side of the war sprawled in front of them. A civil war had a vice grip on the once-united humanity, and had divided it for nearly two hundred years.
No one was innocent anymore--not in the slightest. None of the lab workers had any illusions about the horrors they were about to perform on this young marine, or about each having their own place in hell for doing such things on a regular basis. There was no penitance for them, no higher authority to pat them on the shoulder, give them a hug, and tell them that it would all be okay--that there weren't any everlasting consequences of their actions.
Hell, they had gotten a view of a number of the fiends they had created on the way down. It was unsettling the first few times. Then you were just numb to it.
This project was under the name of researcher Antoinette Housen, Ph.D. She was present, her long blonde hair tied behind her and her blue eyes queerly sharp. Her red-haired research assistant, Susan Whistler, Ph.D., would also be present for the whole of the experiment. Susan didn't look like she had become accustomed to the activities here just yet, she was a bit pale.
Susan looked over the young former marine as her superior discussed the parameters of the project behind her. She was waking up--she thought. Susan remembered the feeds being hooked into her brain, and the deep-brain monitors. The surface world knew all about the **** advances in medicine they had received because of this facility, but they had no idea what went on to bring them about, did they?

Terra awoke slowly. She was incredibly dizzy, and had a lot of memory trouble at first. Her short brown hair was now completely shaven, and a number of wires and hoses fed into her body in fleshy areas. It was a little unnerving. Was she in a hospital?
She couldn't tell which way was up for quite a while. Her vision was fuzzy. Something gripped her at her hands and feet, tight. She felt a bit of a draft. It registered that she was completely naked. It also registered that she was entirely hairless...how did that happen? Did she shave? She didn't think so... but then, she couldn't remember much of anything.
Her vision started to function again, a little. There were a number of men and women in lab coats staring out at her, from behind glass. They had clipboards in their hands. Doctors? Her muscles were so sore... wait, this wasn't a hospital at all. Not a conventional one! Where was she?
Her consciousness was now racing back to her. Her mouth was ring-gagged, held wide open. There was a tube feeding into the back of her neck as well. There were others under her breasts, at her navel, into her pussy, and in the meatier areas of her arms and legs. She couldn't tell how many other devices had been clipped to and fed into her flesh.
Her mouth was a bit numb. She drooled a little... how embarrassing. Who were they? Her memory was such a fog. She remembered being at war. One of them began to talk to another, and there was an agreement. The doctor flipped a switch. She heard machines starting up. What was this???