After the 'feed' ceases you see the women discussing your results out of the corner of your eye. You try to turn your head but the restraints keep you held rigidly in place. Most of what they say is scientific gibberish to your unstudied mind, something about a high glutiorectal response and preparing the transgenesis device. When the technician comes back into view you plead with her, "what's going to happen."
"Awww," she coos sympathetically laying a hand on your forehead, "don't worry the test is designed to make sure you are particularly suited to your future role. I promise for a pervert like you the next thirty years should be pure heaven."
"Pevert, hey what?" Instead of replying she presses something cold and sterile against your arm. You hear a hiss and a fading blackness overtakes the lab and eventually your mind.
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