Mounted

Dee shivered from the air-conditioning. It was inevitable: she was nervous about her pending installation into the Museum of Modern Fetish, and was sweating profusely. And under her rubber mini-dress, thigh-high latex boots and constricting brown rubber armbinder, that moisture can cool quickly. But there was nothing she could do -- she would simply endure the cold like she endured the punishing corset which had drawn her waist in to 24 inches in circumference and like she will have to endure her permanent placement in the museum. Even if she found the draught across her pussy (which was bare underneath the skirt of her mini-dress) was distracting.
      The Museum Curator led her past several exhibits, past the poor girl in the Chastity exhibit who suffered while Museum guests tested the impenetrable nature of her garment (which housed devices designed to keep her in a constant state of arousal), past the puppy-girl whose clit ring was locked to her doghouse while she strained against it to reach her face into her food bowl. And it is with a sense of dread that Dee spotted the podium which awaited her.
      "I believe you're already aware of the process," the Curator told Dee as she approached. "With the advent of nanites, we are able to introduce maintenance machines into your body which will alter and maintain it, replacing your current biological digestive and excretory processes altogether. These machines will also release chemicals which will keep you in stasis for long periods of time, as well as reversing entropic aging and preventiing muscular atrophy. Your respiratory functions will be minimal when you are in stasis -- which will be, say, during evenings and holidays, or through demonstrations... times when we do not need you to be awake for the sake of Museum patrons. Basically, you will comprise a living display, and will remain so for your lifetime -- which will be very long, if not indefinite. We're talking virtual immortality, here. Of course, you will be immobile and helpless for this time, but that is the price. You do understand?"
      Dee nodded. The curator continued. "Now, since you come to us as an indentured servant rather than a volunteer, you have no choice in the matter. Your master has signed all of the necessary legal documents. However, you should know that your co-operation will prevent your inevitable conversion process from becoming a painful and traumatic ordeal foryourself."
      She understood, but was only half listening. Dee was transfixed by the apparatus before her. Her display was a concrete block from which emerged a single steel pole. This pole had a crossbar near the bottom which extended about a foot and a half out on each side and terminated in steel bands, as well as a forked apparatus at the top.
      The curator began installing her immediately. Stepping on a small stool, Dee proceeded to mount the forked top. The Curator rolled up the skirt of her latex mini-dress to assist with Dee's penetration. The central part of the pole entered her vagina, while a smaller fork behind her entered her anus. A fork in front buried itself into her clit hood, and little spines on it transmitted tiny little pleasure signals throughout her body with the slightest movement. The latex mini-dress was rolled back down to just barely conceal her plugged orifices.
      Once on the pole, Dee's feet were unable to touch the ground. The Curator took her ankles and locked them into the cuffs at the ends of the lower crossbar, preventing her from lifting herself off the apparatus. In fact, if she tried to bend at the knees at all, it would pull her in more forceably onto the intruders. Her weight was completely supported by her genitals.

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      The Curator commented: "Just like your other restraints, you will wear these for a week, and if there are no complications, they will be soldered shut. The nanomachines will be entering your body shortly to initiate the change. They will enter vaginally, through the pole, and begin their renovations where required. For this reason, we want to ensure that they don't escape." With this, the Curator produced a tube of sealant, and caulked around the pole where it met her pussy, sealing them together. Then, the Curator stood back to admire the handiwork. Dee attempted to wriggle on the pole, and fought with her arms, pinioned in the single sleeve behind her back.
      "If you have any last words, you'd better say them now. Just like the rest of your body, your mouth is also to be permanently restrained," the Curator informed her. A penis gag was produced and put to Dee's lips.
      "Do we have t--uhh..." the gag was slipped in before she could finish her protest, and quickly buckled behind her head. Then, the curator started bringing out some wire leads from the base of Dee's podium, while she accustomed herself to her new intruder. The gag was unusual in that it had a metal underside, and flared out in her mouth so that it pressed down on her tongue, no matter what she did. It also had some holes in the center, to ensure that she would be able to breathe in the event of a stuffed nose or such. The thick latex base of the gag fit around her mouth so snugly that she would never be able to lift her lips from the shaft.
      "As with all of our exhibits, yours has a theme," the Curator informed her. "You are our electrotorture exhibit." Dee's eyes flew wide, and she attempted to struggle against her imprisonment. It was no use, however: she couldn't move a single muscle. "Those three forks you're mounted on are all independently circuited, and there are another three electrodes to attach. The first two use a static charge, rather than a direct current, since they're so close to the heart." With this, alligator clips with wire leads were clamped onto Dee's nipples. Then, holding her chin firmly in one hand, the curator screwed the end of the third lead into Dee's gag.
      "There. Every time you attempt to make a sound -- even the slightest whine -- your tongue will receive a painful jolt. We will condition you into eternal silence... perhaps after several years you will even forget that you were ever able to speak at all. Now, all of your electrodes are operated by remote control, and can be triggered by any of the museum's patrons. There are two different buttons for your clitoral electrode, so that you can receive a painful shock, or something lighter and much more exciting. It will be your sexual energy, after all, that will continue to power the nanomachines, so it will be worthwhile for us to keep you in a state of constant pleasure, without ever giving you full orgasm. There are worse ways to spend eternity... although I can't think of them, offhand," the Curator grinned. Then, the remote control was tested, sending first a light tingle to Dee's clitoris for about five seconds, and then with a sharp shock up her ass. The Curator watched her responses as each button was tried (left nipple, then vagina, then sharp shock to her clit...), and made certain that the remote was in perfect working order. Then, the remote was handed to the onlookers who had gathered around. "Enjoy the rest of your life," Dee was told, before watching her captor walk away, to attend to other business.
      And soon, with the remote being handled by the patrons, Dee found herself twitching on the pole in a restrained dance, growing excited, growing frustrated and shivering at the prospect of spending endless days suffering the shocks.