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Message-ID: <63873asstr$1487527802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Karl Wikman <wikman.karl@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Interface
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Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2017 13:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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The author's foreword.


I think we can all agree that writing is something one does because one has
to. Writing fiction is my only form of release for the kinds of sexual
urges I describe. The only form of release legally to be had, in fact.


Sharing what one writes, however, is done for other reasons. Partly because
one knows that others have similar sexual fantasies and will be thrilled to
read; partly because positive response feels good; and partly because
constructive criticism is very helpful for future literary endeavours. So
please, if you like this story, tell me so, and if you think you can help
me improve, feel free to give me some suggestions. wikman.karl@gmail.com is
my address.


If descriptions of a middle-aged man having sex with girls in their early
puberty (12-16 years old) are revolting to you, please read no further. If
you hate science and science fiction, please keep reading - I hope to
change your mind about those. No ones or zeros were hurt when producing
this text. This is a work of fiction, and the author does not necessarily
share the views of the protagonist, even though they share the same name.
Be kind to others - don't use and abuse. Always make a difference between
what you allow yourself to fantasise about and what you allow yourself to
do. (Ok, is that enough?)


Oh, and one more thing. English is not my first language, but I'm trying my
best. I've written numerous erotic stories in Swedish, but this is my first
attempt at writing something longer in English.


/Karl Wikman




*Interface*

Foreword


Dear reader,


As I am writing this, a girl of about fifteen years of age is giving me
fellatio. She is very patient about it, taking me in all the way to the
hilt in deep strokes, not rushing but taking things slowly, not intent on
bringing me to a climax but just happily slurping away because her brain is
telling her that this is what she likes best - of all the things she could
be doing right now, the act of sitting beneath my desk with my cock down
her throat is the one that appeals the most to her. Each time I feel a wave
of pleasure, she feels the same - only ten or twenty times stronger, and
each time my level of pleasure rises too high, threatening to make me lose
focus, she gets the urge to back off a little. What she's thinking about
all of this - how she feels right now about being where she is, doing what
she does - I have no idea. I just know that she's been.. I guess
 "programmed" is a suitable word, although it doesn't quite capture all
nuances. She has been "programmed" to do this of her own volition, and she
won't stop until I let her.


So rest assured that this is a story of a sexual nature. I'm saying this
because I'm about to jump into a rather lengthy technical description, and
I want to promise you that there is plenty of sex to come, so that you will
patiently read on through the dry part.


But where should a story such as this begin? Should I begin with my
childhood, where my father was quite absent and when we met he was both
authoritarian and loving, showing his love for me in gestures rather than
words? Where my mother was warm and loving, played games of imagination
with me and taught me about nature and how to behave? Should I tell of my
friends when I was a boy, who were all girls? How I felt betrayed when they
got other friends, who happened to be girls and therefore more socially
acceptable than I?


Or should I begin by speaking to you of being bullied and rejected by my
peers all through school? Of not having any friends at all until I was in
my late teens, because my peers all perceived me as different? Of not being
kissed by a girl until I was twenty years old? Of focusing all my teenage
anxiety and fear of rejection - my loneliness, my sexual frustration and my
feelings of helplessness - into achieving perfect grades to compensate for
my feelings of inadequacy? Of replacing feelings of inadequacy with
feelings of intellectual superiority?


Will such glimpses of my psyche help you forgive me for what I am about to
tell you, and help you see the redeeming motives behind my atrocious acts
of narcissistic hedonism? Perhaps, but you should know that I am
unapologetic. I will not ask forgiveness and refer to the hellish formative
years of my youth as an excuse. I did what I will herein describe because I
had to, because I am who I am, and I will no longer seek to conform to any
norms except those I have carefully considered before making them my own.


So let's jump ahead, instead, to another beginning.

Chapter 1. About MilSpec hardware, Project NanoRep and a daring theft


You will often hear or read that MilSpec computer hardware is roughly ten
years ahead of what is publicly available. This might have been true a few
decades ago, but these days the competition is getting harder and harder,
and MilSpec is really no more than five years ahead at most.


But.


We're also seeing a technological development that is pretty much an
exponential curve, and these days five years will often equate to
technology that is light-years ahead of what existed before. Feel free to
shrug this story off as pure science fiction - for it will probably seem
very sci-fi to you - but bear in mind that maybe -- it isn't.


For me, this whole life-altering story began about three years ago, when I
was doing some work in GAI (Generalised Artificial Intelligence)
programming as a sub-contractor for.. let's just call it "a government
agency", shall we. My specialty is in designing intuitive user interfaces,
and this certain agency needed an interface expert for their work on optic
nerve- and motor neuron control of robotic drones. You know, surveillance
drones or attack drones that fly around over mostly Arabic countries,
controlled from NATO bases in the vicinity or even from control rooms
across the globe. That's the kind of thing they were already doing, only
now they wanted to shift from using VR headsets similar to the Oculus Rift
or the HTC Vive and from joysticks and keyboards to electronic implants
directly interfacing with the optic nerve and motor neurons - both as a
means of decreasing latency and as a means of making the technology
completely surreptitious. They wanted agents on the ground, close to
potential targets, to be able to remote-control little sneaky fly-sized
drones spying on meetings from across the street, without any outward sign
that they were controlling a robot.


Needless to say, my mind was blown by the sheer amount of talent and
resources this government agency had access to. I guess you could say I was
also a bit frightened by the terrible capabilities that the military has.
No. Strike that. Not "a bit" terrified - I was shaken to the core!


With such powers comes great responsibility. Too bad I'm not a very
responsible person, and too bad there were others a whole lot like me
hiding in plain sight at the research facility. The chief science officer
assigned to the development team I was placed in was a true security risk.
A recipe for disaster.


His major mistake was to assign me a much too high security clearance. His
other mistakes included not keeping strict logs of all computer activity
and not installing enough security cameras. I worked nights quite often -
as most developers do, drinking too much caffeine - and would often get
several hours all to myself in the lab, unsupervised and unlogged. And
since I am a thoroughly untrustworthy individual, I made full use of that
opportunity to browse through the details of other research projects, past
and present.


That's when I stumbled on Project NanoRep, and what I read came to change
my life forever.


Basically, the researchers in that project had developed self-replicating
nano-robots thousands of times smaller than a grain of sand. Robots that
could not only use materials from their environment to build copies of
themselves, but could also form complex circuits and even build small
machines out of themselves, that could communicate with each other and
build miniature devices capable of receiving communication from the outside
world. And the most stunning feature of all: They could do this inside
living organisms, such as humans.


Now I understood a bit better what they intended the project I myself was
working on to actually be used for. One of their experiments had been to
infect - that's what they called it, infect - various wild and aggressive
animals and have the NanoReps interface with their limbic systems to take
away all their aggressive tendencies. In another, they had infected rats
and taken control of their motor neurons so that their movement could more
or less be controlled by joystick. So far, they hadn't experimented on
humans, but the results in higher mammals and even apes were showing
promise. Now add to that what we were working on in the internal control
interface program, and things could become interesting. What if you were to
strap explosives to rats and then have an operator manoeuvre them into
buildings using a feed that allowed the operator to see what the rats were
seeing? That could come in handy. Or what about a remote-controlled gorilla
soldier with the strength of five men. They had lots of ideas like that.


But more sinister than that were the ideas they had about pacifying humans.
Infecting a camp of enemy rebels with NanoReps and then switching off all
their aggressive tendencies by manipulating their limbic systems -- Or what
about infecting just a third of them, and then using the infected ones to
kill off all the others? Would such a level of control be possible to
achieve in humans? They didn't know.


Needless to say, I was stunned, awed, shocked, disgusted and scared to my
bones. That night I had some very disturbing dreams about all the people
around me being remote-controlled automatons.


But the next night, I guess you could say I was visited by the fairy-muses
of nocturnal emissions. I dreamt I was in control of the people around me,
and that I used them to slake my thirst for sexual depravity. I woke up and
realized this was a chance that would only come once in a lifetime. If I
didn't at least try it, I would regret it forever.


So I spent the next few weeks planning how I would go about stealing a few
vials of NanoReps. Whenever I had the chance, I would also access the
project's computers and download all the information I could get my hands
on. I won't go into detail about how I managed to pull the theft off, but
it was a rather neat thing where I used a script to delete all digital
tracks that were left behind when breaking into the storage chambers where
they kept the NanoReps, and also manipulated their database so that the
samples I took wouldn't be missed.


Once I had the NanoReps and all the research data and software associated
with them, I put in another few months on the Interface software - which
was much easier now that I had a hunch about what they actually wanted to
accomplish, not just the bowdlerized info they gave all software developers
- and when we were finished, I took a one-year unpaid leave from the
company where I had worked and started to work for real on my own project.




Chapter 2. In which unethical experiments are performed


The human brain is a fascinating lump of lard. Before I really started to
learn about it, I just knew that it was a very complex network of about a
hundred billion neurons, all interconnected with axons, dendrites and
synapses, and that there was quite a bit of chemistry going on, on top of
all the electrical signals being passed around. I vaguely knew about the
different levels of the brain - the neocortex and the limbic system, the
cerebellum etc. - and that they played different roles.


The NanoRep project, though, and the Interface project to some extent, had
required the scientists involved to wade through tons of scientific papers,
extracting all available topological and functional data about thousands of
different tiny areas of the human brain, and assigning them to different
"affect channels" that could be tweaked by NanoReps in specific ways
without the operator necessarily knowing all the details. I spent several
months after the initial theft fine-tuning my own custom interface and
assigning new affect channels to target regions of the human brain.


My first few batches of custom NanoReps were injected into cats in my
neighbourhood. I simply dusted some fresh prawns with the NanoReps, and
left them out for any cat to find and eat. Six hours later, I got a beep on
my monitor saying that a live video feed was available from an infected
subject. The NanoReps had finished attaching themselves to the optic nerve
and infiltrated the relevant areas of the cat's limbic system. Converting
signals from the optic nerve into actual sRGB video and sending them over
WIFI was one of the areas where the NanoRep project had already developed
their own API when I tapped into their research. I watched with fascination
as the cat prowled around the neighbourhood, seeing what it was seeing in a
near real-time feed on my computer monitor.


Then I started up the 2D mammal control user interface I had built for
viewing on a computer screen. The controls were very crude, using only some
of the primary affects; mood, arousal, salience, fear, disgust and
aggression. My very first attempt at controlling the cat was when it got
home to its owner - a middle-age woman two houses down the road from me.
When the cat laid down in her lap and the woman started petting it, I
simultaneously bottomed out the fear- and aggression controls.


The reaction was what you might expect. The cat attacked the woman
immediately, clawing and biting her, and then rushed out of the room.


After that proof-of-concept, I readied a small batch of NanoReps to infect
myself with,  in order to build myself an augmented reality neural
interface. Since I had already built the software for such a project once,
adapting it to my needs was quite a simple matter. I drank the batch of
NanoReps in a glass of milk one evening and let them work all night while I
slept, replicating themselves using elements from my bloodstream, building
their intricate network inside my optical nerve and around certain areas of
my primary motor cortex, and also building a powerful wifi-antenna right on
the inside surface of my cranium. I had really strange dreams that night,
but put that more down to my own imagination than to any effect that the
NanoReps could have had on my brain.


Next day, I interfaced with my new internal hardware and did a systems
check. Maybe you'd think that this would be a strange and uncomfortable
experience, but actually it wasn't that much different from using a VR
display device and a keyboard to manoeuvre inside a video game; the only
difference was that after just a few hours of practice, my control of the
internal interface got to be very smooth, fast and finely tuned in a manner
that I wouldn't have been able to replicate with a keyboard or game
controller.


 -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -"


Hang on a minute.


 -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -" -"


There --


Phew. I needed to cum. Damn, that was a good one. Nothing quite like having
a budding teenage girl give you head for hours on end before you allow
yourself to cum in her throat and let her experience an orgasm that nearly
makes her pass out from sheer pleasure as she feels your semen erupt in her
oesophagus. Her intermingled moans and gags as she gargled on my cock just
now, while it was unloading a torrent of thick cum down her throat, made my
own orgasm nearly unbearably strong, even without augmentation by my
NanoRep circuitry.


Anyway. Where was I?


Oh, yes. The day after I had infected myself with the NanoReps and they had
built my internal circuitry and interface.

Chapter 3. In which I lay out my plan.


I confess I have many faults, but stupidity isn't one of them. While I
freely admit to being something of a narcissistic nihilist with very little
respect for the autonomy of other sentient beings, I'm not so naïve as to
use my new-found powers in a manner that would draw too much attention.
Obviously, various government agencies will be aware that NanoRep
technology has been invented, and they will have some form of plan in place
for detecting its use against members of the higher echelons of society. He
who invents a powerful new weapon had better make plans for when his
enemies gets hold of it and uses it against him.


I knew I had to keep a low profile, stay in the shadows, be inconspicuous.
I must think long and hard about what I wanted, and come up with a good
plan for how to get it while drawing as little attention to myself as
possible.


So what do I actually want, when it comes right down to it? Have you ever
asked yourself that? It's a question with many subtle nuances. I want to
eat pizza or tacos every day, yet I want to feel fit and healthy. I want to
be in a consistent hypo-manic state of positive flow and creativity, but at
the same time I want to keep my wits about me and be able to focus. What
someone wants and what they need aren't necessarily the same. Everything
needs to be balanced. It's just that the balance we're biologically
programmed to maintain - homeostasis - isn't necessarily the most
pleasurable state. Darwinian life doesn't care about our well-being, only
our ability to reproduce.


What do I want, when it comes right down to it? I want to maximise
pleasure. My own pleasure, first and foremost, but I'm actually not a cruel
person; I also want others to experience pleasure. I can get off on making
someone suffer, but I often feel guilt-ridden after. As I'm writing this,
the young girl who just spent hours fellating me and climaxed just as I
came has fallen asleep, contentedly curled up under a blanket beside my
desk. Her brain was nearly overloaded with the intensity of her whole-body
orgasm, and in her quivering, blissful post-orgasmic state, she didn't have
the energy to crawl over to the sofa at the other side of the room. While
I've robbed her of a part of her autonomy, her new life as my companion and
sex-toy is certainly not without pleasure. Quite the opposite, as a matter
of fact.


I suppose I ought to comment on the fact that my sexual appetites aren't
entirely in line with mainstream morality. The girl who just spent hours
giving me head is fourteen or fifteen years old. I've always liked girls in
their puberty. A fresh young face, a lean and petite body, a freshly shaved
pussy, budding young breasts - these are my pleasures in life. Not
children, mind you. I'm not a pedophile. The word to use is actually
'hebephile'; I like teens in puberty.


So what I needed to do, now that I had proof of concept that my neural
interface was going to work, was to establish that it would actually work
in humans, not just on cats. Then when I knew it worked in humans, I could
use it to become rich and start building a truly pleasurable life for
myself. I could infect people who had financial resources, make them
transfer funds to me, and then persuade them to forget all about it. Or
maybe just walk into a bank one day and -- no, even better - I could make a
banker go inside and fetch me the funds. Shut off the security cameras and
alarms, and then -- this was going to work out just fine. The possibilities
were nearly endless. I just had to keep my wits about me and be subtle.
Stay under the radar. Maybe even go into stealth mode and fake my own
death. Yes. That was it.


But first, I needed to establish that the interface would give me control
over humans. We are, after all, a good bit more complicated than cats.
Maybe it wouldn't be possible to override the controls of human
consciousness?



Chapter 4. In which the first human experiments are performed.


This is going to sound cheesy, but my neighbours' daughter -- ok, you can
stop laughing now -- I felt it was convenient to perform the first
experiments without needing to travel far. My neighbours' daughter was an
appropriate target to start with. Sixteen years old, give or take, and with
a decent body. Not a stunning beauty, but definitely rather attractive.
Mostly though, she was a convenient target because she lived nearby.
Jessica was her name, in case you care to know such details. Is her name,
actually. She's still alive.


First, I needed to figure out a way of infecting her with the NanoReps.
Maybe I ought to say something about the rate of infection? Just as with
ordinary viruses, NanoReps follow an s-curve pattern when replicating, and
the initial slope is determined by dose. A single NanoRep can start off an
infection, but things will be very slow for the first days. One becomes
two, two become four, four become eight, etc - two to the power n, where n
is the generation. Each generation takes time to build the next generation.
Once a certain critical concentration of NanoReps circulate in the
bloodstream, the growth rate becomes limited by the available resources and
tapers off. Starting off with a large dose speeds things up tremendously,
and I was impatient.


So I bought a six-pack of plastic Coca-cola bottles. I carefully drilled
small holes in them and injected them each with a few drops of NanoReps,
before using a tiny dab of epoxy to glue them shut. Then I lurked on my
porch for a while, and as Jessica came home from school, I called her over
to the fence between our gardens. I explained that the local store that
makes home deliveries had failed to give me diet coke, and since I have
diabetes -- would she like to have these for free?


It worked like a charm. I think she probably drank two or three bottles
that day, because around midnight, my system lit up and signaled that the
NanoReps had already finished infecting her and built the necessary
connections inside skull.

Well. Maybe that ought to be further explained. What the NanoReps had done
was to set up the initial conditions - the very basic structure I had
devised for the cats. First they reproduced and gained mass, then they
started assembling critical circuitry: a powerful wifi antenna from a large
number of thin strips of NanoReps simply fusing together on the inside of
the top of her skull, capable of transmitting on the 2.4 and 5 GHz bands; a
main power-harvesting circuit capable of converting chemical energy from
her blood into electrical energy to power the other circuits; all the
micro-processing circuitry to run the necessary calculations for relaying
her signals over wifi; all the connections to her optical nerve and the
various parts of her limbic system and some other brain regions and glands
that I wanted to gain control of. This was a very basic configuration that
would give me low level control, but wouldn't let me do anything really
fancy to her. The whole circuitry would operate on just two Watts of power,
and the heat it generated could be easily dissipated through her whole
body. Two Watts power draw means 48 Wh per day, with equals 41 kcal, i.e.
the energy content of a kiwi fruit or half a banana. She would never even
notice the increased appetite. The only thing she would feel, except for
maybe a bit of headache the first day, would be a craving for food rich in
certain minerals and metals that the NanoReps had stolen from her system. I
myself had been eating beef, broccoli, kale and brussels sprouts with
surprising appetite for days, gulping it down with orange juice, which I
otherwise never drink.


Using my internal interface, I connected directly to her system over the
2.4 GHz band and acquainted myself with the controls. I spent hours
tweaking the layout of my human control interface, deciding which functions
of her brain to link to which controls.


Wait. Maybe I ought to explain that bit too? An internal interface isn't
constrained in the same sense that a keyboard and mouse setup are. To
manipulate those - to use your mouse and keyboard to click buttons on a 2D
interface on a monitor that doesn't fill your whole field of view, or to
use your fingers to press buttons on your keyboard to input text - is slow
and inefficient when compared to a direct-to-motor-cortex-interface. You
only have ten fingers, after all. In a digital construct, you need no
fingers at all. It feels a bit like using limbs to input data at first, but
that feeling fades after a few hours, and then it feels more like thinking
 "I want this done", and then it happens. The latency is extremely low, and
the whole experience is very strange at first. It is as if this is what
your brain was always meant to do, but it had to drag this bag of meat and
bones around through the process, and now it's finally free to be as fast
as it wants to be. It is orders of magnitude faster than interacting with a
computer through your hands.


I've gone through many iterations of my internal interface, but the basics
could perhaps be best explained through analogy. When I possess someone, be
they human or feline or any other sentient mammal, I bring up a semblance
of their body as a see-through anatomical map, in which their nervous
system and brain is mapped. I zoom in or out and move around in this
3-dimensional representation of their body, and when I want to affect one
of their core emotions, I just have to think about it and it happens. It's
a bit like pushing a button, and depending on how hard you push it, it
delivers a different amount of current to a specific circuit. It's just
that the analogy isn't very good. I don't see a button. It's more like
flowing colours and sparkles. Different kinds of energy. And it's not so
much flowing through my fingers as it is like -- flowing through my forehead
toward this graphic avatar that represents the other mind. I guess this
sounds very strange, but it works, and it is lightning fast.


The one situation where I feel there's a limitation to the interface is
when I bring up the signals from their optic nerve. I can't get a perfectly
sharp image, so it's a bit like looking through a kaleidoscope at first,
before I can decipher and re-route their signal to the appropriate parts of
my own optic nerve. The image grows sharper with time, as my system maps
their signal better to my own configuration. You would think that human
vision would need a higher bandwidth than the 54 Mbit/second that the
802.11g-system can give on the 2.4 GHz band, but you would be surprised at
the amount of image compression inherent in the wiring of our retinal rods
and cones, and at the decompression our brains then perform to extract
contours, colour and contrast from those signals. Our chemical signals are
sluggish in comparison to electronic circuitry, and how our brain processes
the very limited input from our eyes and constructs the rich inner
representation of our surroundings is a miracle of darwinistic evolution.


But perhaps you want me to come back to how I first interfaced with my
neighbours' daughter Jessica now? Fair enough. Let's do that.


Since it was past midnight and I was feeling sleepy, I first interfaced
with my own low-level control system. I usually stay away from tampering
too much with myself, but I was very eager to experiment with another
human, and so I elevated the production of orexin in my lateral
hypothalamus and increased secretion of dopamine, norepinephrine and
acetylcholine in certain systems that regulate wakefulness - the Reticular
Activating System or extrathalamic control modulatory system. The effect is
much like that of having a whole night's sleep and a cup of coffee both
happen to you at once. Ping, you're awake and feel refreshed. Eager to get
to work. But you have to be careful, because if you do this for just a
couple of nights in a row, you might do permanent damage to your brain or
become temporarily psychotic.


Next, I interfaced with Jessica's system, that was giving me a very strong
signal even though we must have been at least twenty meters apart and had
several walls between us. I read out her current hormone levels and the
activity of her various limbic system circuits. For much of the night, I
ran little checks on my controls and acquainted myself with how the
interface would work. A little nudge on her adrenergic system and her
heart-rate went up. Nudge her dopamine right -- there -- and she went into
REM-sleep. Pour too much into her orexin and norepinephrine into her RAS
and she woke up confused and went to the toilet and then went to get a
snack before going back to bed and falling asleep again. This was crude
control, but for a first test, the result was definitely a success.


As the night wore on, I spent an hour programming a subset of her NanoReps
to interface with nerves in her spinal cord. For the duration of the next
day, they would focus on building a strong connection to nerves
transmitting tactile sensations, and I would then be able to 'caress' her
avatar in my construct, and the signals would be instantly transmitted to
her. As I saw her blood pressure start to rise and activity in her
prefrontal neocortex ramp up, I executed my crude plan of first attack,
that would hopefully keep her home for the day while her parents went to
work.




Chapter 5. Wherein a first test is conducted.


I slowly started sending impulses through Jessica's vagal nerve fibres and
her area postrema. I knew both were involved in nausea and vomiting, but
didn't know if they were independent actors or would work synergistically.
Slowly, slowly, I massaged them and coaxed them, and just as I saw Jessica
open her eyes, I gave them a harder hit of activity.


It worked like a charm. She immediately ran to the toilet to puke her guts
out.


No going to school today, sweetie, I thought to myself, a strong sense of
triumph surging through me. Just this simple form of manipulation could
give me powerful abilities to control other people.


I routed her aural activity to mine so that I could listen in on her
conversation with her parents. They had heard her rushing to the toilet to
vomit, and her mother had come to check that she was ok. At this point,
Jessica's nausea had subsided because I had ceased stimulating her vagus
nerve and area postrema. I was feeling a bit nauseous myself, though,
because the visual input I was getting from her eyes was a mess of
kaleidoscopic light. I lowered the opacity of that overlay, and instead
tried to squeeze out better fidelity from the aural transmission. Her
mother was fussing over her and checking her temperature with an in-ear
thermometer, and it was an eerie sensation to hear the thermometer beep
inside what felt like my own ear.


Since Jessica wasn't running a fever, but puked again when I slammed her
vagus nerve, her parents said she ought to stay home that day, and that she
should call them if she started feeling worse. I giggled with excitement, I
confess. Or maybe I laughed like a mad scientist. That's probably a more
accurate description, come to think of it. This was going to be fun.


When her parents had left the house, Jessica was already starting to feel
better. In my visual representation of her avatar, I could see activity
rising in orexin-dependent brain areas that process appetite and salience.
She was getting hungry and was about to go to the kitchen for a snack, I
predicted, and just a few minutes later, that's exactly what she did. I was
already reading her mind. Or at least, I was reading her brain activity
well enough to predict her behaviour minutes in advance. I couldn't tell if
she was going to have oatmeal or cornflakes for breakfast, just that she
was feeling peckish.


I grabbed something to eat myself, and worked on getting the visual feed
less kaleidoscopic while we both ate. She was watching TV in her kitchen
and staying relatively still, so that made the job easier. Toward the end
of her breakfast, I had managed to squeeze the feed much more tightly into
focus, and the experience of looking through her eyes was more like looking
through a pair of really strong glasses with entirely the wrong
prescription. Good enough for my purposes right then.


While I did the dishes and Jessica went upstairs to her room to curl up in
bed as any teenager would if they got to sleep in, I started to apply a
signal to certain reward- and arousal centres in her limbic system. Slowly
at first, but building up tension gradually, making her feel aroused and
happy, but without particular cause. Then I started to slowly ramp up her
testosterone production. This might cause you some confusion, but women
actually have testosterone too, just as men have follicle-stimulating
hormone. They just have less testosterone than men. When you ramp it up
short-term, it makes women as horny as teenage boys.


I went to lie down on my couch and focused all my mind to the task of
coaxing Jessica to become more and more sexually stimulated and aroused. In
less than half an hour, I had her out of bed and into her bathtub. So
sweet. I looked down through her eyes on her body as she undressed and
slipped into the tub. The focus was improving, but it was still blurry. I
could feel myself getting hard, almost as if in response to her arousal.
This was the trippiest experience of my life, and I was only getting
started.


When Jessica slipped lower into the warm water and put the shower-head to
her nether regions, her head disappeared below the rim of the bathtub, and
my visual feed immediately started stuttering. The signal couldn't
penetrate the metal, apparently. I was still getting enough throughput for
the low-bandwidth interface, but the visual and audio feeds were
struggling, so I had to turn them off and rely on what I could see in her
avatar. She was starting to enjoy herself.


Once I had triggered her sexual response and arousal, it was
self-sustaining. During the next thirty minutes, she cycled through several
orgasms, her brain lighting up like a christmas tree each time the
shower-head brought her to climax. I could see her arousal wax and wane,
building up tension and releasing, again and again. I had to go take a
shower myself, because I was feeling very hot. I was so excited I almost
had trouble breathing. I've always envied women their capacity for multiple
orgasms


When she ran out of hot water, Jessica's frenetic masturbation subsided.
Her brain was a warm glow of pleasure, her incentive salience starting to
dip from the previous high, her cortico -"basal ganglia -"thalamic loop still
firing, but starting to subside, sub-compartments within her nucleus
accumbens shell, ventral pallidum, and parabrachial nucleus of the pons,
her insular cortex and orbitofrontal cortex all intermittently lighting up
with the aftermath of the dopaminergic rush. The display of firing pleasure
neurons was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was almost as if i could
sense how her afterglow felt.


When she got up from the bathtub, the signal strength returned and I could
turn on the visual and aural feeds. She was softly murmuring or humming to
herself and sensuously using a towel as she looked at herself in the
fogged-up mirror. I regretted the fact that the visual feed wasn't sharp,
but enjoyed the sight anyway. I wondered if -- could I wire her sexual
response to mine somehow? Could I make a feedback circuit from her pleasure
centres to mine, or the other way around? Only one way to find out --


I spent the better part of an hour poring over that idea and tinkering with
a feedback circuit from my reward centres to hers, and from my arousal and
salience responses to sub-compartments in her nucleus accumbens shell. When
I turned on this feedback, feeding my responses to her, she would respond
too. If I looked at something with desire, she would feel that same desire
toward anything she was currently looking at. That meant if I looked at her
with desire as she was looking at me, she wouldn't be able to help herself.


Or would she? What if seeing me triggered disgust in her? Would that temper
her response and shut it down? Better configure override circuits. And
maybe put in a multiplier? If I multiplied my own response by a factor of,
lets say, two? Yes. Crude, but it would probably work.


Humming to myself, I instructed her NanoReps to start building her tension
and arousal again, and to ramp up her testosterone once more. Slowly but
steadily, she would get increasingly horny and aroused. Then I would go
over and ring her bell to ask if she wanted another six-pack of coke.



Chapter six. In which feedback circuits are put to the test.


It should be noted, perhaps, that I'm not God's gift to women. At least I
wasn't two years ago, as this first experiment with Jessica took place.
Since then, I've put the NanoReps to work on my physique and endocrine
system and managed to change my appearance and performance quite a bit.
I've even let them elongate and widen my corpora cavernosa - the ultimate
in penile enlargement. At the time, I had all of six inches and pretty
average girth; now I'm nearly eight inches and my dick is as thick as my
wrist. I've ramped up growth hormone and testosterone production
permanently so that I can easily build muscle, and I let the NanoReps take
care of damaging my muscle filaments just enough to elicit a growth
response each night, so that I have the physique of a greek god without
needing to take exercise. I've even set them to work on my jawline, nose
and forehead. But I digress. I wasn't all that attractive back then, which
is why I set things up to skew the odds heavily in my favour. A slightly
chubby man in his late thirties ranks rather low with sixteen-year-olds.


While I waited for Jessica's brain to start simmering with pure sexual
frustration, I put on my best aftershave and deodorant, pulled on my best
sweater and brushed my teeth. Then I grabbed a six-pack of coke and
sauntered over. When I rang her doorbell, I instantly saw areas in her
brain light up as she heard it; surprise, a small amount of fear,
irritation, incentive salience, motor cortex activity - all different
colours in her avatar, that I had set to low opacity and pushed toward the
edge of my field of view. I double checked that the feedback circuit from
my arousal and salience responses to sub-compartments in her nucleus
accumbens shell was active and had the multiplier set to two, and that all
her potential for experiencing disgust were turned off. She opened the
door, and I gave her my best smile as her eyes locked on mine.


 "Hi Jessica", I said, and felt a surge of excitement go through me at the
thought of what I was about to do. Just as she opened her mouth to say  "Oh,
hello Mr. Wikman ", I saw her brain light up as a christmas tree again in
response to the feedback circuit and the prolonged warm-up I had given her;
salience shot through the roof, as did dopamine activity in
sub-compartments within her nucleus accumbens shell, her ventral pallidum,
and parabrachial nucleus of the pons, her insular cortex and orbitofrontal
cortex - all the pleasure centres that I had seen glow in the aftermath of
orgasm. She blushed and drew breath as if I was the most handsome man she
had ever seen. "I just came over to ask if you would like another six-pack
of coke. They gave me the wrong kind again today, would you believe it?
Even though I called them yesterday to complain." Blushing furiously, her
cortico -"basal ganglia -"thalamic loop pulsing with activity, she stammered a
response and took the cans I offered her.


I let my eyes take her in, knowing that whatever sexual interest her
appearance sparked in me, she would feel twice over, directed at me. My
gaze lingered on her chest. After her bath, she had put on a tight tank-top
and loose cargo pants, but apparently no bra, so her young perky breasts
were well displayed, her nipples hard under the thin fabric of her top. I
imagined squeezing them and heard her draw breath even harder, as if I had
actually done it. Looking back to her face, I could see her looking
confused and trying to mouth a question. "What --" she began, but I spoke
over her: "So.. I actually thought nobody would be home. I just rang the
bell out of courtesy. I figured I would just put those cokes on your porch.
Don't you have school today?". I looked her up and down again, slowly,
taking in her lean body and imagining how she would look naked. I had a
good idea from seeing her reflection in the fogged-over bathroom mirror
before. "No -- umm -- I -- I felt sick this morning, so I stayed home, but -- I'm
feeling better now." From the way her brain was firing, it was almost a
miracle she could concentrate well enough to string together coherent
sentences. I felt myself sporting a raging hard-on, and knew she must be
feeling more than twice as horny as I. I didn't want to make the first
move, though. What was keeping her from jumping all over me?


Oh. Obviously. Inhibition. Even strong urges couldn't outcompete her
inhibitory systems, unless -- "So -- You're home alone the whole day then?" I
said, just to have something to say while I tweaked her brain a bit more. I
used my internal interface to zoom in on the inhibitory loops between her
amygdala and prefrontal cortex to see where activity was highest. This
wasn't something I had studied in detail - I just knew that damage in that
area caused general disinhibition - and if I tweaked the circuit that was
currently showing the highest activity, that would probably be the one
responsible for inhibition of sexual behaviour.  "Yeah -- I was just about
to -- " She didn't get any further than that before I applied the brakes to
the inhibitory neurons I had identified. She lost whatever she was about to
say, looked confused for a few seconds as if she was trying to remember
something, and then locked eyes with me. It was as if someone else was
suddenly looking out of her eyes. They burned with intensity.


 "You'd like to fuck me, wouldn't you? "she asked. "That's why you came over
here, isn't it? I could see how you were looking at me just now. "She took
three steps back and held the door open for me. I smiled at her and came
inside. She closed the door and put the latch on, still looking at me as if
she was a predator and I her prey. "I can't deny you're very attractive --" I
ventured, and she laughed with delight. "You're a fucking pervert, Mr.
Wikman, I've known that since I was twelve and got breasts, because Ive
seen you looking at me --" she said with a wry little smile." --but I really
don't mind. I like teasing men."


This was working better than I had ever hoped. By triggering her sexual
appetite and causing sexual disinhibition, I had somehow unleashed her
inner beast."Yes, I admit I like girls your age, Jessica. You look
particularly fine today, by the way. I've liked your tits since you were
twelve, but they look even larger today than they usually do" I
contributed. She gave me a pleased smile and went on; "I don't know what's
gotten into me today, but I'm horny as hell and for some reason I don't
care that it's not polite to talk this way to someone I don't really know.
Also, I'm not usually into guys like you, but today you also look
particularly fine, as weird as that sounds. You'd like to see me naked,
wouldn't you?"

I just nodded and smiled, while I briefly focused on her avatar and checked
that her brain wasn't showing signs of anomalous reactions. Her sexual
interest and appetite-directed systems were showing peak activity, but
areas of her prefrontal cortex were almost completely dark. She started
removing her clothes without much ceremony, just letting her top, pants and
panties drop to the floor right there by the door.

 "So you liked my body when I was twelve, did you?"

 "I must confess I did. I still do." I admitted.

 "Fucking pedo. That turns me on, though. Why don't you take your clothes
off so I can see you too?"

 "I don't really like that word," I said as I started pulling off my sweater
and jeans, "the proper word to use is' hebephile', since you had started
developing breasts by then. But that turns you on, you say?"

 "It does. I'm usually weirded out by older men looking at me, but now I'm
turned on at the thought of you pining for me. I can't believe I'm talking
like this, but I just don't give a fuck. I don't know why I'm swearing like
this either, but it just fucking feels good to say it. I want you to fuck
me, you fucking pervert." She took a step closer and grabbed me by the
balls and squeezed as she wrapped her other hand behind my neck and kissed
me hard. I responded in kind, grabbed her breast and kissed her back. My
surging desire knew no bounds. It worked. It fucking worked. IT FUCKING
WORKED.


Our romp in the hay that day was beyond anything I had ever experienced
before. I had had sex with women with strong sexual appetites before, but
none that had come close to Jessica's insatiable desire. Having close to
zero sexual inhibition, there was nothing she wasn't eager to try, and she
had quite a dirty imagination herself once she was let loose. My previous
sexual experiences had been with women who lost their sense of sexual
urgency after three or four orgasms and went into a refractory state, but
more than that, I myself had been un-augmented. After one or two releases,
I would be spent and it would take a lot to get my appetite up again. With
my own internal neuronal interface, however, I could simply tweak a few
systems so that they refused to yield to post-orgasmic fatigue.


Again and again we went at it, Jessica and I. She gave me a blowjob to
completion right by her front door, and swallowed every spurt of my cum as
i filled her throat. She called me an asshole for grabbing her head and
making her choke on my cock, but I saw that she was flushed with pleasure
and ready to burst from excitement, because my own reactions had been
force-fed into her nucleus accumbens shell at twice the intensity I had
experienced at the peak of orgasm. When I had finished cumming in her
throat, she more or less dragged me over to the sofa, where she proceeded
to mount my face and nearly forced her pussy down on my mouth, all the
while talking dirty about how she couldn't believe she was making her
neighbour eat her out and how good it felt. Her pussy was gushing all over
my face as I licked her clit with abandonment and stuck fingers inside her.
When she came the first time, I pulled them out and let them slip inside
her ass. She gasped again, her anus squeezing down on my fingers, and
exploding in another orgasm immediately following the previous one. "Oh,
you fucking pervert -- sticking your fingers in my teenage ass, you fucking --
fuck! Oh, that's good."


That's when I made the adjustment to my own sexual response, so that my
refractory period was cut short and I could feel myself starting to become
engorged again. I kept eating her out and fingering her ass for a few more
minutes before I felt I was fully erect again, and then it was my turn to
manhandle her. I pushed her off me and arranged her on her knees with her
upper body pressed against the seat of the sofa, and then proceeded to fuck
her tight little cunt and her even tighter asshole for what seemed like
hours. I held her by the hair with one hand and used the other to spank her
buttocks as she screamed with abandon. Each time I looked down on her
petite sixteen-year-old body as she submitted to me, my desire was
amplified twofold and sent through her brain, making her lose all
inhibitions. She begged and sobbed for me to fuck her harder, use her body,
take her, give it to her, fill her. And that's exactly what I did. I filled
her ass, feeling as if it was the strongest orgasm I had ever had - which
it probably was. Her own orgasm had her collapsing, shuddering for minutes
after I had pulled out.


When she came to her senses, I had already regained my strength and could
feel my desire for her start to return. She shivered as my signals were fed
back into her recovering brain. "I -- I don't know -- I never," she began.

 "You never fucked an older man before?" I asked.

 "I never fucked before. Period. Never. I don't know what came over me." She
crawled up in the sofa beside be and leaned back against me. She shuddered
again as I felt my desire building when I felt her body against mine. I
cupped her breasts from behind and kissed her neck and could sense that my
penis was slowly becoming erect again.  "What did you do to me?" she asked.
"What are you doing to me?" she reiterated when I didn't reply.

 "Doing to you?" I mumbled, my face still buried in her hair, lips caressing
her neck.

 "Something's different. I don't know, but -- I'm unrestrained. I never even
let a boy touch me before. Not like this."

 "Maybe I hypnotized you?" I suggested, squeezing her breasts harder and
then letting my hand slide down her stomach, down between her legs, feeling
her wet labia, finding her sensitive clit and gently touching it.

 "Yeah. Hypnotized me. That's what you did, you pervert. Can you feel how
fucking wet I am? I can't believe we just did that. You fucked my ass."

 "Yes. I guess I hypnotized you. "I let my fingers slip inside her and
wiggled them against her g-spot for a while, feeling it become harder
against my fingertips. "You took it like a champ, right up the ass. Did you
ever think that would happen on the day you lost your virginity?" She
moaned and pressed herself against my hand, letting her own hands fumble
behind her back for my engorged cock.

 "I've fantasized about it, but never thought I would do it. I seriously
feel like you've hypnotized me. I don't even know you."

 "Now you know me. At least in a biblical sense, you do."

 "What?"

 "I mean, now we're pretty well acquainted, wouldn't you say?" I asked and
let my fingers rub around her clit again.

 "You fuck. You fucking pervert. I can't believe I'm doing this, but I just
don't give a fuck. If my parents came home now, I would fucking let you
fuck me in front of them. Hah! That would give them a stroke!"

 "I guess we'll let this be our little secret," I said, and let my fingers
slip inside her again.

 "You fucking pervert. You want to fuck me again, do you?"

 "I do. And I will. I'm going to fuck your ass again, little girl. After
you've sucked my dick clean from before, that is. For some reason, I
believe you'll do that for me, if I ask you to."

 "You fucking pervert. I can't believe we're doing this."

 "Shut up now, little darling, and suck my dick clean before I fuck you
again."


All the while, a single thought kept repeating itself in the back of my
head, competing for attention. IT FUCKING WORKS! IT FUCKING WORKS! It
fucking WORKS!


When I left her house that day, she had fallen asleep in her own bed. We'd
spent the whole day fucking and talking, fucking and talking. We'd dug out
her mother's Hitachi vibrator from her parents' bedroom closet and put it
to good use on Jessica's clit while I fucked her little teenage ass as hard
as I could. We'd shared a cold shower before spending what felt like hours
in a 69, taking turns bringing each other to climax. She had spent another
hour riding me, all the while talking about how she couldn't believe she
was doing this.


Between each romp, we talked. Since I hadn't tampered with her brain in any
other way than lifting her sexual inhibition and boosting her sexual
responses by tying them to mine, she was still herself - still able to
reflect on what she was experiencing. A few hours into our orgy of abandon,
I disengaged the brakes I had put on her inhibitory loop, and her only
reaction was to blush a little more and smile. She was busy riding me at
the time, and I guess that by then all her resistance was futile. Her
sexual inhibitions were overcome, and wouldn't reassert themselves in a
hurry.


When it was close to 5 PM, she said her parents would be home within an
hour, and we helped clean the downstairs sofa and mop up the most evident
traces of our encounter. By that time, she was so tired she could barely
stand, but she had a blissful smile and seemed to glow from within. I had
lifted all feedback circuits, so now she was entirely herself. She walked
around the house naked with me, as we were cleaning, all shyness overcome
by the intimacy we had shared. I kissed her gently as I tucked her in and
told her to come over to my place some day soon, if she wanted to repeat
the experience. She smiled and nodded and fell asleep in what seemed like
two seconds. I left her house on trembling knees, feeling happier than I
had ever felt.


(Chapters 7-12 forthcoming; currently the story is 24 chapters long. Once I
get an author account at asstr-mirror.org, I will make a convenient website for
all chapter access.)

Again: Please direct any feedback to wikman.karl@gmail.com
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