Come
In My Brain
by Sterling
Chapter 2 of 3 Phase II: Depressed
The doctor considered what his discovery might mean. As Meredith had
said, it could be part of a "Make a Wish" program, allowing terminal
patients to experience joy as volunteers happily helped them live out
their sexual fantasies.
But there was the other side to it -- benefit to the recipient, not the
sender. Meredith had reported that the transmissions from Carl gave her
a good feeling surpassing any orgasm she had ever felt. What effect
could that have on people beyond just a good feeling?
It could be a form of sexual therapy. Women who didn't experience
orgasms from sexual stimulation might get something even better --
maybe it would open up their natural responses.
But as he thought about it, the potential was wider. What effect could
a super-orgasm have on people with other ailments? What about something
as basic as depression? Even if it helped a small fraction, it could be
a huge business. He filed a patent.
If the effect was for the benefit of the recipient, the donor should be
a healthy person in the prime of life. Ethics committees would have
trouble approving risky surgery for a healthy person. He needed someone
dedicated to the project. Dr. Monroe thought of himself. He had the
electrodes implanted by an excellent neurosurgeon colleague of his in
Russia, where ethical concerns were not as much of an issue.
He smiled as he considered the potential side benefits to his
experiment.
Jenny slumped in the ward's lounge, looking at nothing in particular.
Other patients shuffled around, mumbled to themselves, or just paced.
Many just sat, like her.
She was 23 and a hopeless case. Treatment-resistant depression. She had
been tried on twenty-odd different medications. They had zapped her
brain with ECT. None of it did any good. She had tried to kill herself
three times, and the last time had come pretty close. She mused about
how she could really pull it off the next time they let her out.
Time for her case conference. Every Thursday at 2:30. After the usual
drivel about her diet and physical condition and mental assessment and
how well she did with the OT (pathetic "play" for grown-ups), there was
something new. Her psychiatrist Dr. Bernstein said a colleague wanted
to meet with the two of them privately.
"Hello, Jennifer, I hope you are no worse than usual today?" asked Dr.
Bernstein. She had to hand it to him: at least he didn't say, "How are
you feeling today, Jennifer?" with a loud, cheery voice. She was
tempted to answer that kind of question with, "Life sucks, I feel
awful, and fuck you too!" So Dr. Bernstein gave her an iota of respect
by recognizing her basic condition.
"Jenny, this is Dr. Green."
"Hi, Ms. Jones," said the new doctor, a middle-aged woman. "You can
call me Cathy. What should I call you?"
Jenny looked at her dully. Oh, she was going to be Respected. She felt
better already, ha ha. "Jenny is fine," she said.
Dr. Bernstein said, "Jenny, you know we have tried every treatment we
can think of for your depression, and that means you are eligible for
experimental treatments as well. You have tried a couple."
Yeah, that one that made her pee her pants and nearly vomit when she
turned her head sharply to the left; that one had been fun!
"Dr. Green is going to describe a new opportunity."
"Jenny, this one is very strange. I won't pussyfoot around. It has to
do with sex."
That got her attention.
"Let me cut to the heart of the matter. There is a man, one Dr. Monroe,
who is wired to send signals from his brain to yours when you wear a
halo -- kind of like a hat with no center. We think that when he feels
pleasure, you will too. When he eats a piece of chocolate cake, you
will feel the pleasure he gets. Naturally enough, the strongest
pleasure we humans feel is sex. The hope is that when you absorb sexual
pleasure sensations from him, it might help with your depression."
"What does he do, fuck me?" Jenny asked.
"If you decided that was what you really wanted to do, it is a
possibility at some point. The one rule that is very clear is that you
never do anything you don't want to. We were going to start with such
measures as him masturbating or having sex with a different woman. "
"Oooo, do I get to watch him jerk off? Or watch him hump the other
chick?"
"That is also a possibility."
This was all so bizarre Jenny wondered what planet she was on now.
"I realize this seems very unusual. Sex therapy for depression has been
tried and found ineffective. The new element here is the transmission
of his pleasure directly to your brain."
Like most kids, Jenny had experimented with sex. She had masturbated as
a young teen and learned about orgasms. She had let a couple boys in
high school fuck her, painful experiences she preferred not to think
about. Mark, in college, had been more experienced. After a few times,
she had gotten to understand how it worked, understood how she could
feel a little pleasure from the fucking motion, in and out. He brought
her to orgasms now and then with his fingers.
"And what are the chances all this stuff will make me better?"
"We don't know. You would be one of the very first half dozen
volunteers. However, even if this didn't help you, or made you worse,
you might be contributing to a cure for others with your condition."
"I don't give a shit about others with my condition," she said. But she
did, deep down. She cared a great deal about them -- and about herself.
The first time she never even saw the transmitting doctor. They put a
halo on her, and she did feel a little tingling when he ate a square of
chocolate. The technician adjusted a knob to increase the strength of
the signal until she described her pleasure as she used to feel when
she ate chocolate. She was then told that he was masturbating in the
next room, and she did feel a buzz in her brain. It was more pleasure
than she had felt in months. When he came, it was a big rush. She felt
her pussy get wet.
They escorted her back to the hospital and asked her about her mood
every ten minutes, or so it seemed. Within a few hours she felt as bad
as ever. After waiting three days, they were ready for the next phase.
She wore the halo for a morning and afternoon session for three days in
a row, and was told the good doctor was engaging in sexual intercourse
with a woman. The memory of his orgasms seemed to perk her up and she
felt pretty good while it was going on, though she was reluctant to
admit it. She had felt little blips of happiness from a number of the
drugs she had been tried on, but they never lasted. Still, she
dutifully reported her improved mood -- it might help someone later.
Just as she feared, after the treatments stopped, she went right back
to feeling horrible.
"I'm your local Martian," said the doctor when she first met him,
pointing to the electronics that stuck out of his head. It was no worse
than him wearing headphones, that was all -- not even that bad.
"Here we are in this incredibly awkward situation. Sex is on the table.
We might have intercourse if you decided to go that far, but maybe
we'll just be doing stuff like masturbation -- or maybe nothing at
all." As he spoke he put the halo on her head and seated it firmly.
Then they sat on the love seat side by side. The only other furniture
in the room was a bed.
"Whatever," Jenny said. It was hard to be totally apathetic under these
circumstances, though.
"I should tell you, Jenny, that I think your are very attractive."
She had looked in the mirror that morning. She knew people used to say
she was pretty, but at this point she looked just dull. "Oh yeah,
right," Jenny said. Another phony.
"I mean it. Yeah, I can see you've been feeling depressed, but I can
see underneath it too. And not just your face is attractive -- you have
a very sexy body, too."
Jenny had half a mind to walk out -- who was this guy who thought he
had the license to talk about her body? But of course, that was exactly
what she had given him license to do. That and other sexy stuff. She
could walk out, but she didn't want to. Maybe it would help some other
depressed people later.
She realized she had also felt a little glimmer when he said that. He
really did find her sexy -- or was it just that she felt sexy from him
telling her she was sexy? It was hard to tell.
"Jenny, could I touch your hair?" he asked quietly.
What was that surge she felt? She didn't mind his touching her hair --
but now she also wanted him to touch it. She wanted him to because she
knew that when he did -- oooo, she felt sexy. She saw him stealing
glances at her breasts through her blouse. He wanted to touch her there
too, she knew it. She couldn't quite believe that she guided his hand
to her breast, and felt just the way she thought she would -- felt his
excitement at cupping and stroking it.
Suddenly it struck her as alarming -- this was all too strange.
She broke away sharply and ran for the door. On the way out she tossed
off her halo -- and felt a big letdown. What was happening to her?
Doctor Green was waiting in the anteroom.
"Hi, Jenny," said the woman doctor nonchalantly. "How's it going?"
"Oh, shit!" said Jenny. "I don't know!"
"Want to say more?" she asked pleasantly.
Jenny shook her head.
"What we expect might happen is that you would feel Doctor Monroe's
sexual excitement for you. Is that part of it?"
Jenny nodded.
"The idea is that you can be as sexual with the doctor as you both want
-- though for his part I think we know that he finds you very
attractive.
"The doctor is certified free of STIs -- as are you. You will also
recall that your period is due in a couple days, so sexual intercourse
would be safe -- IF you decided you wanted to do that."
"I don't know... I don't know... Can I go back to the hospital and
think about it?"
"Certainly you can," the doctor said. "Just wait here a few minutes and
I'll arrange an escort."
But it was less than a minute before Jenny said, "I think I've changed
my mind. Can I go back in?"
"Sure!"
As Jenny entered, the doctor was slumped on the sofa. He sat up and
brightened immediately.
"Jenny!" he said. "Nice to see you again."
Jenny stopped, uncertain what to say. Part of her was incensed. "You
want to fuck me, right? This halo is a trick to let you fuck me."
"It's always up to you. I find you very attractive, Jenny, it's true.
I'll admit I was disappointed when you left, and if you leave again
I'll be disappointed again. The idea of having sex with you is very
appealing. But don't worry about me, I'll be fine!
"Our hope is that having sex -- if you decide you want to do that --
will not only be pleasurable for me, but that your pleasure will be
linked to what you do, and it might help you with your depression."
"Nothing is going to help my depression!" Jenny said hotly.
"OK, it might let us learn things to help others." After a pause, he
said, "What have you got to lose? Your dignity, I suppose."
Jenny took a deep breath and put the halo back on and walked over to
him. She felt his desire for her -- felt it right inside her head. When
she touched her own breast, she felt his thrill. When she slid her hand
up the inside thigh of her jeans, she could tell he was excited and
wanted more. More to the point, so did she!
She shed her clothes frantically. Jeans down, panties off. Every item
she removed made him more excited. Her blouse buttons took so long to
undo! Seconds! Her bra was off and she was naked except for her socks.
And she was right, his excitement surged as he saw her naked.
He unbuckled his belt and his trousers and unzipped the fly. "Is this
OK?" he asked. "Me getting undressed?"
"Yes!" she said, lying on her back with legs spread. What a dumb
question! He stripped quickly, guided by his lust, and approached her
with hard erection ready to insert inside her.
He slid one hand to her pussy area and started caressing lightly. But
she could tell it wasn't exciting for him -- or not as exciting as it
could be.
"Forget that! In me! Now!" she pleaded.
He took no convincing, and in seconds he had mounted her, his cock
right at her pussy opening. She held him outside her for just a second,
and felt his excitement ebb. It was her choice! She wanted to feel his
excitement rise, and by pulling on his hips instead of pushing, his
cock surged inside her. She was thrilled by the pleasure he felt upon
first penetration.
"Oh, that's so nice!" she moaned.
"Oh, yeah, it's wonderful!" he answered.
"What's your name?" she asked breathlessly, realizing at some level it
was an odd time to ask.
"Alan," he said.
What would be even more exciting for him? Coming, of course!
"Come in me, please, Alan! As soon as you can, OK?"
"OK," he said. His thrusts increased in speed and depth. She had never
craved a penis like she did now.
She suspected he would like it if she hugged his back. But it actually
made him less excited, so she instantly stopped that.
She tried whispering in his ear, "Fuck me, Alan, fuck me harder!" and
that increased his excitement and pushed him to the edge of orgasm.
Jenny was awash in pleasure as never before. She felt his penis swell,
and then felt his ecstatic climax. Along with the direct pleasure that
was flooding her brain, she felt the excitement of the sex act and
knowing that it was her
body that had given him such exquisite
pleasure.
He rolled off her, and naturally she felt his excitement fading. The
magic gone, she immediately wondered what she had done. She stabilized
her feelings by reminding herself that she had participated in an
experimental treatment for depression.
She sat up and felt his happiness drop. She tried lying down again and
snuggling against him, which made him happy.
But she was confused, not sure what she actually felt herself. Hoping
to have her own feelings back, she pulled off the halo.
Sunshine turned to clouds. On the one hand, she had her own simple
feelings back, and on the other she missed his contentment. She put the
halo back on for another ten minutes of gentle warmth, but then she
wanted to go.
She had felt happy after the previous experiments, but this time she
felt even better, and there was a different quality to it somehow.
Something beyond mere pleasure.
They wouldn't let her go back the next day, and then she felt she had
to wait a few days while she had her period.
When she did get back again, she ripped her clothes off -- no finicky
buttons this time! -- and devoured his cock with her pussy as he lay on
his back. But she sensed he wasn't as excited as during their previous
meeting, so she eagerly turned onto her back and felt his extra joy at
fucking her soundly in the missionary position.
To test her control, she made him pull out and get off, and felt his
excitement plummet. But when after a few seconds she urged him back
inside, she was rewarded with the intense pleasure she had hoped for.
They did it five days in a row, and she looked forward to it like
nothing else in her whole life. After their fifth session, he told her
as they dressed that they had something they needed to discuss.
Further visits would be contingent on her making progress putting her
life back together. The staff at the hospital would handle the details.
The social workers helped her arrange a place to stay and set up goals
for her personal hygiene, eating, laundry, exercise. After three days
she was rewarded with another fantastic bout of sex with the good
doctor.
After a month she had to wait a week between sexual bouts. But
something else happened. She wasn't just going through the motions of
living a normal life to get her reward. Her food tasted good -- some of
the time. She enjoyed exercising. Visits with her little brother felt
rewarding -- she was glad to hear about his college exploits. He told
her he knew she would get better some day. Before she would have felt
exasperated, knowing inside that whatever improvement she felt would be
temporary. But this time she didn't mind, because she was hopeful too.
"Hi, Alan," Jenny said brightly, as she walked in. She sat on the couch
with him but made no move to put the halo on.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I've found a boyfriend," she said. "I think he's really sweet. I
haven't told him about this therapy we've been engaged in, but I have
to. And I have to tell him the therapy's over, too."
She saw the doctor brush back a tear.
"Oh, Alan!" she said. "I'm sorry. You've got other girls to do, don't
you?"
"Oh, of course," he said. "But you're not all the same, like
interchangeable parts. Did I ever tell you that you were the very first
one?"
"Me? The first?"
"Yeah. I don't know if you can imagine what it's like to be a guy and
have a gorgeous girl beg you to fuck her and come as fast as he can.
I'd never experienced that before."
"Yeah," she said, "I could imagine it could be cool. You're one lucky
duck, I say."
"Yeah, I can't complain," he said. "But you know, you've never been
just a 'fuck' to me. I've really been rooting for you. I like you."
"That's so sweet," she said automatically. Studying his face, she said,
"I believe you."
"Have you had sex with this boyfriend yet? It's none of my business, of
course."
"No, but I want to soon."
"Have you considered what happens when it's just normal sex? When there
isn't a halo blasting pleasure into your brain?"
"Yeah, I've thought about it. You've been turning the volume down for a
while, though, right?"
"Yeah."
The two were silent a moment.
"I was thinking, Alan."
"Yeah?"
"Maybe it's a dumb idea, but..."
"Go ahead."
"Would you like to do it once, just normal, with no halo?"
"I'd love that," Alan said. "If you're sure."
They didn't kiss -- they weren't quite that intimate. Jenny was
delighted when Alan dipped his head between her legs and started
licking -- something she would never have had the patience for while
wearing a halo. The sensations were also thrilling -- no boy had ever
done this with her before.
"No, stop, Alan, stop."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, it feels fantastic, it's just ... I don't want Mark
to have to live up to that standard -- not at the beginning, anyway."
"Yeah, I can see that," Alan said.
So for her own pleasure Jenny took her turn on top, and with the help
of a little finger work from Alan, she had a normal female orgasm from
the pleasure felt by her own female parts. Then they turned over, and
Alan humped away. She enjoyed the sensations herself, and inferred his
pleasure from his sighs and moans, the tension in his body and its
release with a big, "Oh, Jenny!" That was how a woman was supposed to
experience a man's pleasure.
They said their goodbyes, both crying a little.
Things didn't work out with Mark, and Jenny was tempted to go back to
Alan when she felt blue. But she got through it and she ended up
married to Steve. He wasn't the love of her life, exactly, but they
built a solid, warm relationship. They had agreed in advance not to
have children, and Jenny's main reason was that she didn't want to risk
passing on any genetic component to her severe depression.
She and Alan exchanged Christmas cards for years. She had been headed
for suicide, and thanks to Alan's therapy she was instead living a
normal life.
The treatment was a stunning success. It turned out that experiencing a
man's pleasure relayed through a wall was never effective. Sexual
intercourse was required. It appeared that the woman's control of the
situation was vital -- one causal factor in some depression is that the
patient feels no control over her life. With intercourse she could tell
that it was her
body that gave him pleasure; little things she did
could make him feel better or worse. The fact that they were engaged in
the most intimate human experience may have helped too. Combined with
large doses of pleasure, it offered hope that human relationships could
be rewarding again.
Age was also a big factor. Effectiveness of the treatment dropped
dramatically through the 20s and it was a long shot at age 35. Children
come into the world with brains of great plasticity, but it fades as
they age.
Ninety percent of girls who went ahead and had sex with the doctor had
a marked temporary improvement. Sixty percent had a sustained benefit
that could be maintained with no more than one follow-up treatment per
month. Forty percent needed no follow-up. Five percent had persistent
difficulties separating themselves from their therapist and engaged in
some form of stalking behavior.
There were limitations. The girl had to be truly attractive to the
therapist -- he couldn't fake his gut reaction. So naturally the less
attractive a girl (judged by a panel of independent judges) the less
likely the treatment was to be effective. This opened a market
opportunity for men with catholic tastes, put crudely as "guys who will
enthusiastically fuck anything".
Treatment was less effective for boys, because fewer women are deep
down delighted to have a strange boy fuck them. It was important for
the boy to have control and cause the woman's orgasm, something they
were often not skilled at, especially when seriously depressed. Most
could wield a vibrator fairly well, and that helped some.
Gay and lesbian therapists filled the needs of gay and lesbian youth.
There was a legal problem with younger patients. Treatment-resistant
depression doesn't magically appear at age 18 or even age 16. There are
a great many 14- and 15-year-old girls with severe depression. For
them, the therapy was of course illegal. Even with parental consent,
doctors who did treat them had to fight off some expensive lawsuits --
but to no one's surprise only when the treatment had proven
ineffective. If a girl could find anyone to treat her, it was at a
clinic that catered to undocumented aliens, since documentation of age
was no more required than documentation of legal residence.