The Harem on the Hill (Part LX) (Patreon)

You carry Tina into the room and plant her on her feet.  She's wobbly, but she dutifully stands as you undress her like a toddler being prepared for bed.  After removing her shoes and smock, she holds up her arms, allowing you to lift her shirt up over her head.  'Skinning the rabbit' was the crude expression your Mother used.  Appropriate, since Tina's long-sleeved XXL T-shirt fits her like a second skin.

The fat girl's eyes dart to the padded platform at the center of the room.  It looks like an oversized masseuse's table, but its heavily cushioned surface bellies an industrial steel construction.  Of course, the leather straps extending from each corner also suggest it may be for more than massage.  

There are four holes in its surface: three cantaloupe-sized ones that look a bit like the finger-holes in a bowling ball near the table's head, and a larger oval-sized hole the size of a watermelon closer to its center.  Attached to it, is a sophisticated network of tubes, wires, monitors, and a machine that looks like a cross between a hospital's life-support system and the control panel in a recording studio.

As Tina's eyes return to you, you expect to see fear, but instead, see something else.

Admiration.

The contraption was the last thing you designed for your harem.  In fact, you were still working on it as you surveilled the bevy of girls documented in your spiral-bound Bible.  Each evening you would come home from your espionage and tinker with the design, imagining whichever girl you were currently surveilling hooked up to it.   You've always been a do-it-yourselfer, but unlike most features of your harem--the courtyard garden, the surveillance and security systems, etc.--which were developed and implemented with at least some outside technical assistance, this was 100% autonomous.

Time will tell if it's your pièce de résistance or just a piece of crap.

After stripping Tina 'naked as a jaybird' (another expression you remember from your childhood) you point to the platform.  "Have a seat."

Tina trudges across the cold floor and hops onto the table.  That is if you can call the awkward tip-toed scooch of her ass onto its surface a hop.   Maybe you should have tested on someone taller.  Tabitha, perhaps?

No.  It should be Tina.  It was meant to be Tina.

The padding, composed from a unique memory foam-like material originally developed by NASA, barely buckles as the blubbery barista's butt balances on its black vinyl shell.  You wonder if that will still be the case in a few hours.

"Face-down, please."

Tina hefts her legs onto the table, reclines onto her back, then rolls towards the center.  Her stomach fills the watermelon-shaped hole as her face and breasts fit the smaller trio of openings like a plug in a wall socket.  She remains calm as you manipulate her wrists and ankles into the adjustable leather straps.  You don't make them too tight.  In fact, you suspect Tina could wriggle free if she really wanted to.

For now.

"Breath normally."

As the apprehensive heaves of your harem girl's chest begin to slow, you press two buttons on the adjacent machine.  One wakes the console and the second jolts it into action with a series of beeps, whirs, and hums.  It's not as quiet as you'd like, but it's not obnoxiously loud either.  Headphones or Air Pods would drown it out easily, but for now, you don't give Tina that option.  You want her to hear everything.

The last steps go by in a blur.  You affix a tourniquet just below Tina's right bicep, cleanse the area, then insert an IV needle--

"Sorry."

Tina doesn't flinch.  Her bare back simply rises rhythmically as she breathes the concoction of gases flowing into the table's face cradle.

Next, you release the tourniquet, attach the long tube from the machine, and stabilize it against her arm with surgical tape.  That's it.  Done.

Everything seems to be working as intended.  You bring an app up on your phone that mirrors the console's controls and set the timer for an hour.  The machine has built-in fail-safes, but you don't want to trust them just yet...especially since things could get messy if they ever malfunctioned.

You have an hour to kill.  What do you do?