The CAS Experiment: Chapter 1 - Beta Test
by Kamkat
PROLOGUE
The following story contains fictional events. Any similarity to persons or situations, real or imagined, are coincidental. It describes relationships between adults and children that result in emotional and consensual sexual bonding. If this offends your sensibilities, then do not read any further. It's a story brought to me via a friend named Lanie.
Amy, Lauri and I became acquainted with Lanie at Algeron's summer camp last year. She introduced us to Jake, Felicity, George and Susan, and all their kids who stayed on as campers. Jake's a programmer, and he made millions with a project he worked on for the military. Apparently that's how he could afford sending all the kids to camp while he, Felicity, Lanie and the Millers continued on, taking an extended honeymoon together somewhere in the Caribbean.
The story came from Jake, and tells how he brought them all together when they were neighbors.
Enjoy! ~ Kamkat
*****************************************
Some people wonder how they came to be who they are, or what single pivotal event brought them to the present state of their lives. I never do. I know what my turning point was-I relive it daily. In my case, it was the sudden kindling of a single idea-a curiosity at first, which grew and became a hot ember, caught fire and spread like a conflagration in my mind. My name is Jake, and this is my story.
They say every idea is born from past events in one's life. Experiences are the sum total of all your successes and failures. I don't know about that, but my turning point wouldn't have come about unless I had a child of my own. It was one of my son's neighborhood playmates who inflamed my fantasies - fantasies and thoughts I never expected to experience before that fateful day.
My son was one of those kids who was a natural-born leader. Wherever he went, whatever he did, all the other kids on the block followed him wherever he'd go. Each day when he got off the school bus and walked in the front door, he'd bring some friends home with him-boys or girls, it didn't seem to matter. Mostly it was to play video games for protracted hours in his room.
John was a master at video games and collected them avidly. I guess you could say he took after his father in that regard. I've worked and programmed computers since the days PCs first came out. Soon after John was born, I have pictures of him pounding away at a keyboard, sitting on my lap as we pushed around digital white blocks with rudimentary paddles. As he grew older, we bought him every game system that came out. He mastered them all effortlessly, and taught his friends all the latest tricks to win.
After my wife died, we both took to occupying ourselves for hours on our home computers. Me out of loneliness and lack of female companionship, but for John it was how he dealt with the loss of his mother. He was only seven-years old at the time. Things were hard for him, so I never denied him the chance to be with his friends whenever they visited.
At the time, I was working out of our home for a company that had just landed a fat government contract. It was a counter-intelligence contract (for whom I'm not at liberty to say), having to do with the aspect of indirectly influencing a person's mental state. We were interested in overcoming any pre-conditioning, or learned behavioral responses, and affecting a predictable and positive (for us) outcome with the subject's decision making-all without that person having any conscious knowledge what, or how it was being done. You might call it "brain-washing," but I thought of it as a humane way of correcting errors in human behavior instilled by misguided preconceptions. There were various hardware tools we could use-audio, visual, and of course, the personal computer.
My proposal postulated that the best, and most effective results, could be achieved utilizing activities the subject liked doing the most-through positive feedback games… And it was this proposal that landed me the job. It was all convincing in theory, but in the end, I had to prove that whatever I submitted worked.
In order to be completely transparent, I had to write a program that would run "in the background" of any game or other program that the intended subject was interested in playing. This "invisible" program would project a series of repetitious suggestions on the screen at such a rapid speed and random order that the subject would be totally unaware of their presence… at least on a conscious level. At the subliminal level of their minds, at a level of their perception they would later dream about, my series of "suggestions" would slowly and subtly be altering their thoughts, decisions and ultimately, their behavior with its hypnotic patterns. In this way, a dangerous criminal, or a captured enemy prisoner, could eventually be made to "mend their ways," or see the advantages of switching their allegiance, so they could come to believe in a new "cause" and behave in a predictable, trusted manner.
I was very patriotic, and I badly needed the money. It never occurred to me that if the concept actually did what it was supposed to do, it could become a powerful and deadly tool in the wrong hands.
Eventually I arrived at an early prototype of the program-what a programmer calls a "beta" version… one that "worked" in a software sense, but had yet to be tested on an "end-user." And, as fate often has it, just when you need something the most, that's when it shows up on your doorstep. In my case, that's exactly how she showed up - on our doorstep!
It was early afternoon, at the end of a warm month of May, sometime just after school had let out, and John was upstairs in his room with a couple of friends, battling each of them in turn at a game of "Doom." When the doorbell rang, as it often did when the kids were home, I pulled myself away from the computer screen to find out who wanted to visit my son this time. Standing on the porch was a little girl, maybe six or seven, about three-and-a-half feet high, dressed in a mid-chest hugging halter top, cut-off blue jean shorts, and wearing dirty-white unlaced sneakers with no socks.
"Is my brother here?" She asked, craning her neck back to look up at me.
"Dunno." I replied. "Who's your brother?"
"Billy. Billy Barton. I'm his sister Cassie, and our mom wants me to stay with him while she goes to the store with my sister Maggie." the small girl spoke right up.
"She certainly wasn't shy with strangers," I thought. She had the wildest curly mop of bright red hair - the shade you'd call "strawberry." It matched her face and arms because she was awash in a flood of reddish-brown freckles covering every inch of her milky-white skin.
"Well, I don't know if he's here or not, but you can go up and look for him if you like. Do you know my son John?"
"Yeah. He's my brother's best friend." she lisped through a wide mouth that was picketed with an uneven mix of adult and baby teeth.
I watched her scamper up the stairs, her shorty-tight jeans worn and frayed over her small derriere. An edge of her pink panties peeked out at her crotch. Her bottom was particularly attractive - well-rounded for a girl of her young age, but firm from physical activity - and her long muscularly-slender legs were the same freckled texture as her thin, bare arms. "A real beauty THAT one will turn out to become," I caught myself thinking.
Suddenly the irony of this scamp's name being Cassie struck me as heaven-sent. The project code-name I'd been toying with was "CAS," an acronym for "Computer-Assisted-Sublimination." "Cassie - CAS" The project's destiny seemed to be intertwined with the little kid already.
I sat down and started thinking. The idea of using a young unsuspecting subject was appealing for a number of reasons. First of all, I should be able to quickly verify if it worked on a total stranger - one who was wary or inexperienced with computers. Secondly, I could attempt conditioning her mind with something so improbable, so unlikely, that if it DID work, I could confirm that it was my program itself that had caused a change in the subject's behavior. Now the question was, what would be so outrageously improbable that I could suggest for her to do so that if, or when, she expressed an active interest in doing it voluntarily, I'd know that my programming actually succeeded?
While pondering these things, my mind kept replaying my visual memory of the tiny pink panties wedged between her crotch in her tight, faded, cutoff jean shorts as she'd bounded up the stairs. Without consciously thinking, I began writing the "instructions" that would be subliminally played in the background of any game I selected for her.
For this first test run, I would want her to have fun with what she was seeing and doing. I also wanted her to feel comfortable with me and with coming back to play more "games" in the days ahead. And for a third test I thought I'd try instructing her to do something she'd never think of doing herself by chance - like, like, never wearing any underpants at all whenever she came over to play on the computer, perhaps. And to make sure, I'd suggest she wear only dresses or skirts, so I could be sure she'd given up wearing anything beneath them.
Start off simple, build on one or two suggestions until they've become habit, then, introduce new concepts based upon the groundwork. That was the project's plan after all.
My instructions, with several variations would be: 1. "I LOVE playing games on John's daddy's computer!" 2. "I LOVE sitting on Jake's lap and letting him hold me and show me how to play!" 3. "When I visit Jake, I LOVE wearing my little dresses but I HATE wearing any panties at all."
This would work best if I used bold words such as "love" and "hate" to establish strong emotional choices. The sentences needed to be kept short, with several variations of the same concept repeated in a random order. Thus, my first working list looked like this:
I LOVE this computer!
Sit on Jake's lap to play!
I LOVE Jake's games!
I HATE wearing panties!
This is FUN!
I LOVE wearing dresses!
Underpants HURT me!
I CAN play too!
Jake is FUN to play with!
Jake's computer is FUN!
I can WIN!
I CAN do it!
Panties are for babies!
I LOVE Jake HOLDING ME!
I WANT Jake to SEE me NAKED!
I'm a big girl now!
SEE under my dress Jake!
I LOVE being with Jake!
Having set the subliminal program up-ready to run invisibly-I loaded a cute little puzzle game I thought she'd like to play. Then I went upstairs to see what the kids were doing, and more importantly, to look in on my new potential subject, Cassie.
As expected, a group of kids were gathered around John's TV set, watching the duel between my son and his best friend Billy, Cassie's big brother. Besides those three were another two boys, the same age as my son. Cassie was the only girl, and the boys had left her out of their circle, ignoring her completely to concentrate on their video game. She looked particularly lonely, I thought.
"Hey, what's up you guys?"
"Hey dad!" … "Hello Jake!" (All the kids knew to call me by first name after I got to know them. If Cassie knew my first name, she hadn't used it yet, which was good, I thought… I'd have a chance to see if my subliminal "suggestions" helped her adapt to the change.)
"Who's winning?" I asked into the dead silence that followed. None of the kids but Cassie had looked away from the TV set to acknowledge my entrance into the room. She sat cross-legged over by the bookshelf, idly flipping through a "Cat-in-the-hat" book in her lap.
"Uh… Billy, for now!" My son responded, distracted enough to lose some points and wince that I'd bothered him.
"Cool…" I said, and then turned to face Cassie. "What'd you find young lady? A good book?"
"It's okay, but I already read it." She answered in a bored tone of voice.
Not wanting to draw the attention of the other boys, I spoke, "Oh, I see. Well, have fun…" But I gestured with my finger for the girl to come with me. Her curiosity couldn't resist the clandestine nature of the private gesture. She immediately tossed aside the book and got up to follow me out of the room. None of the boys turned to see her go, or even noticed she was leaving. Outside the room I bent down to whisper in her ear conspiratorially, "Want some ice cream? There's only enough left for just the two of us!"
She giggled, "Sure!" and happily followed me downstairs.
In the kitchen I picked her up under her arms to sit her in a chair. Her face barely cleared the edge of the table. "Want a phone book to sit on?" I asked.
"Nah, that's ok."
"You can call me Jake, okay? That's what all the kids around here call me anyway." I spoke, laying out our bowls. Next I retrieved the ice cream and a tall can of whipped cream from the frig. "What flavor do you like?" I asked pointing to the rainbow colored box, "Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry?"
"Uh… Vanilla. AND strawberry!" She beamed happily.
"Ok, both it is… How 'bout some whipped cream?" She nodded enthusiastically, so I split the two flavors in her bowl and said, "Then we'll make it a whipped cream sandwich!" And holding the can low in front of my crotch, I shot a copious thick glob of the cream between the two flavors. Cassie's freckled face split delightedly with gales of laughter.
"Looks like we have a whipped cream lover here!" I grinned down at her. "Open up and I'll fill you up with some more!"
After a moment's hesitation, the little girl opened her mouth wide as she stared expectantly at the can I held suggestively between my legs. "C'mon! You can open up wider that THAT!" I grinned. She tried again, stretching her red lips over the gums of her teeth. "WIDER!" I prompted laughing, and she made a face trying her hardest once again.
I shook the can a few times, letting her wait like that with her green eyes fixed on the nozzle, then, with my finger on the tip, I shot a stream of cream down at her tonsils in the back of her throat. The foamy white cream quickly filled her pink mouth, so I purposely jerked the can to spray some on her lips, nose and chin. If her mouth wasn't so full, she would have burst out laughing, but she happily gulped it down, giggling the whole time, and stretched her pink tongue out to lick around her lips. She used her tiny fingers to push the rest of it into her cream-smeared mouth.
I joined her in laughter, helped wipe her button nose with my finger, and pushed it gently between her lips, deep into her mouth, letting her suck it to get the last of the sweet cream. When I finally sat down beside her, I noticed her eyes on my lap. Looking down, I realized I sported a massive and very obvious bulge in my shorts.
We ate the ice cream together in silence for a while, she didn't say anything about my erect condition, so I tried making some light conversation. "The boys don't let you play with them very often, do they?"
"They never do. They only play against each other. I'm not any good." She said with the spoon poised before her ice cream-coated lips.
"I don't know about that!" I replied. "You just haven't had any practice - you need lots of practice to do anything good." I told her.
After another bite of my chocolate I added, "Now, I've got a real computer down here in my office, and I'd bet you could do pretty good on some of the games I have on it!"
"Nah… I'm no good at games." She said, sounding like something her brother had told her far too many times. Changing the subject, she almost choked me on a mouthful of ice cream with the next thing she asked. "How come your pee-pee got so big in your pants?"
I swallowed. I think I even coughed once to gather my wits and tried sounding as casual as I could with my reply, "Well, guys get like that when they're having fun and feeling real good."
She thought about that, after obviously never having asked anyone before, and then after some reflection she said, "Yeah, I see Billy get like that sometimes. His pee-pee gets hard and sticks straight out!" She giggled while blushing a pretty shade of pink against the sea of tiny dark spots over her nose and across her cheeks.
"What makes him feel good?" I asked nonchalantly.
"When he wiggles it, or when he pulls on it to show me." She said.
"Does he do that a lot?"
"Sometimes…" She said and went back to eating.
"Oh. Well, I guess you made me feel pretty good when I watched you eat up all my whipped cream! But that's our little secret, okay?"
She cracked a wide grin letting vanilla dribble down her chin before catching it with a finger-I opened my mouth, inviting her to share it with me as I'd done with her. She quickly caught on and leaned over hesitantly before putting her finger in my open mouth. I sucked her whole finger in up to her knuckles, and lapped my tongue up and down its length. She burst out laughing again and quickly pulled away… I grinned back at her mischievously.
"Ok. Our secret." She smiled, sneaking a quick peek beneath the table to see if my shorts were still stoutly tented. Of course, they were.