From tuegate.tue.nl!news.nic.surfnet.nl!sun4nl!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Tue Dec 20 13:45:12 1994
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an53629@anon.penet.fi
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Organization: Anonymous contact service
Reply-To: an53629@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sat, 17 Dec 1994 13:41:15 UTC
Subject: REPOST The Invention1/5 (mc, mfff)
Lines: 535



I did not write this story.
This story was obtained from the internet or a BBS. Most of the
multi-part stories where consolidated at the time, and some minor
adjustments made, mostly of a cosmetic nature. Enjoy !


                            INVENTION


      Sandy Wilson looked at the rat in frustration.  The aluminum
foil electrode he had glued to Ms. Piggy's head had come loose
again, and she had rubbed the spot where it had been attached until
the skin had broken, making it useless for his purposes.  He'd have
to find another place to attach an electrode, and that meant
another hour of carefully shaving the rat's tiny head.  Still, he
hadn't got a good EEG tracing from the spot on top, so he probably
was better searching for another, maybe farther back on the
cortex..

      He sighed and lifted the plump warm animal, cupping her in
his hand.  Ms. Piggy didn't seem to mind the shaving, because he
worked carefully and fed her slivers of moist cat treats while he
worked.  Eating was her favorite pastime, which was how she earned
her name.   That and the fact that she chased Mr. Ed, the male
mouse, around the cage, nipping at him until he huddled in a
corner.  Unless she was in heat.  Then she let him mount her, but
immediately afterwards began biting him again.  Mr. Ed seemed
resigned to this peculiar form of courtship, taking what he could
get when he could get it.  But otherwise he avoided the female rat
completely.  Sandy had carefully charted her menstrual cycles and
knew she still days away from any friendly interest in Mr. Ed.  He
knew better than to toy with her during her single-minded pursuit
of the male animal.  She should be safe to handle today.  As
always, he talked to her while working the fingernail clippers,
then shaved the stubble carefully with a scalpel held in a metal
jig..

      Finally a round quarter inch spot was clean.  He took an
alcohol swab and touched it to the area.  She flinched at the cool
swab, but didn't squeal.  He lifted a pre-pasted dot of foil and
pressed it onto her scalp, then deftly attached the electrode,
sliding it into the small copper tube he'd soldered onto the foil.. 
He the rat her into the recording box, small enough so she couldn't
turn around or reach the electrode.  Ms. Piggy smelled the lettuce
cuttings in the box and immediately began stuffing them into her
mouth, eyeing him while she chewed the leaves.  Sandy turned on the
recording equipment, watching in satisfaction as the scope showed
brain wave tracings.  He had apparently stumbled on a good spot,
for he was getting clean sharp waves of brain activity.

      This was his junior science fair project, building on his
sophomore project, which was chemical analysis of hormones from rat
urine.  He was charting the changes in brain waves against the
rat's chemical changes, looking for correlations.  His previous
female subject, Stinky, was Miss Piggy's mother.  She had gotten
him all the way to the State Science Fair, where he won Honorable
Mention.  This year, he wanted to take First Place, and was
determined that the methods he used were meticulously scientific. 
He noted with pleasure that Miss Piggy was pissing in the box, a
conditioned response he'd trained into her since her infancy.  The
yellow fluid collected in a test tube fitted to the hole in the
bottom of the box.  He'd have to start all over again, measuring
the hormone level in the rat's urine and comparing it with the
tracings from the new location on her head.  He'd long gotten over
his distaste for the sharp smell of the rat urine, but still wore
latex gloves whenever he worked with it, hating to get the yellow
fluid on his hands.

      The electrode was his own device.  He'd built it using a tiny
Hall effect junction removed from an airplane navigation system,
lifting it out of its plastic case with tweezers and gluing it to
a FET which he'd pried from its own case, wrapping the pair
carefully with speaker wire to form a tiny tuned inductor, highly
sensitive to the smallest changes in an electric fields when
excited by an oscillator, and he'd build a bank of active filters,
run into an analog neural network constructed from capacitive diode
junctions to remove unwanted electrical signals.  He checked that
the tracing he wanted was complete enough to analyze.  Ms. Piggy
was still toying with the last of the lettuce.  He didn't want to
disturb her, so he fiddled with the tuning of the oscillator,
varying the frequency while watching the amplitude of the brain
waves reflected on the oscilloscope.  He was getting nothing but
noise now, and was trying to decide how to better shield the leads
to simplify the filtering.  He noticed that every time he moved his
hands the tracing would change.  The device was behaving like an
ultra-sensitive proximity detector, not like a brain-wave monitor. 
He increased the amount of 60 cycle current into the neural net
inhibitors, hoping to suppress the effect.  Suddenly Ms. Piggy's
body quivered and she let out a tiny squeal.  He turned off the
power immediately, afraid he'd somehow given her a shock, then
realized that the ultra-thin speaker coil wire he was using for the
electrodes could hardly carry enough current to hurt her without
burning through.  He turned the oscillator back on, trying to
remember the settings he'd run through, and watched the animal
carefully.  Again she quivered and squealed, then unconcernedly
returned to nibbling at the lettuce.  He checked the pen recorder
tracings, and noticed two sharp sets of spikes.

      Sandy thought carefully.  He wondered if he had somehow
induced a brain wave in the small white furry animal.  This was
unexpected, at the least.  Perhaps, he thought, the tracing
reflected some design flaw in his equipment.  Maybe he'd started an
oscillation that quickly built up a large current at some
fundamental frequency he hadn't filtered.  He carefully removed the
electrode from the piece of foil, then tried the oscillator
sequence again.  No spikes appeared.  Maybe Ms. Piggy's body was
necessary for the proper currents, like a load on the coil.  He
picked up another piece of foil and stuck it on the naked skin of
her tail, using the same glue.  Again he ran the oscillator cycle. 
Again he got the spikes, and a shiver from that rat.  But both were
much smaller.  He returned the device to the foil on her head. 
This time he programmed the sequence of oscillator frequencies into
his computer, having wired it long ago to excite the coil with
variable waveforms to get the greatest sensitivity from his sensor. 
Ms. Piggy didn't seem to mind, her body only shaking slightly at
his touch.  He tried again, and again he got the strange spikes and
the same quiver and squeal.  He pasted another electrode on the
scar tissue, hoping it wouldn't hurt her when he peeled it off
later, and tried again.  The same squeal, and the same strange
tracings.

      He thought a while, realizing that his new amplifier was
obviously involved in this effect.  He looked at the tracings
carefully, noticing that the waves showed some sort of feedback
effect, from the rat's faint brain waves through the excited coil
and magnetic junction, then amplified back through the device.

      Sandy knew the electronic characteristics of his device quite
well.  He returned the mouse to her cage and lifted another sensing
device out of its box, quickly wrapping a larger coil around a
pencil, cutting the fine speaker wire on the device and soldering
the new, larger coil into place.  He cussed as the fine wires
curled away from the soldering iron, the head too intense for the
thread of copper.  He wrapped another coil, then soldered it more
carefully, this time succeeding.  He lowered it into Miss Piggy's
cage, holding it a few inches over her head.  The rat didn't seem
concerned.  She was used to strange devices by now.  He tried to
reach the computer keyboard but the rat wandered out from under the
coil before he could begin the sweep.  He typed the required
command sequence, programming it to repeat every second, then held
the coil over her head.  Again he saw the familiar shivers.  She
walked directly to Mr. Ed and Sandy knew she was going to begin her
familiar ritual of torturing the male animal.  Sighing, he reached
to take her out of the cage.  He wasn't finished with her yet.

      To his amazement, however, as soon as she reached the male
animal she presented herself for coitus, front paws spread and her
rump up..  Mr. Ed took immediate advantage of the opportunity,
sniffing her in confusion, then mounting her from behind, pushing
his cock into her and pumping hard..  Sandy marked the urine
sample, wondering if he'd missed something in her estrus cycle.  He
watched the rats go at it for a few seconds, then lifted Smurfette
from the cage, thinking he would try another animal to get the
strange feedback effect.  He put the young female rat in the
lettuce box and lowered the coil.  Smurfette was Miss Piggy's
daughter.  He started the equipment and was pleasantly surprised to
find that this animal responded the same as her mother, without the
squeal, her sexual arousal obvious as her little body quivered.. 
He reached toward the box, and Smurfette bit him.  This was
unexpected, too, but the bite didn't hurt.  Sandy dabbed his finger
with antiseptic from the bottle he kept near the rats' cages,
thought about writing the results of this experiment in his lab
notebook, and decided he'd wait to see if the effect could be
repeated.  He lifted the coil, but the fine wires broke.  He tried
several times to solder a new coil, but couldn't get it right. 
Frustrated, he switched off the equipment and went upstairs..

      The next day Sandy built several new electrodes..  This time
he didn't have any problem soldering the thin wires.  Somehow his
hands seemed steadier.  He found he could replicate the effect at
will, holding the thin coil over the rats' heads with tweezers. 
The coil seemed not to affect male rats much, but it had a decided
and immediate effect on female rats, causing an immediate sexual
arousal.  He was playing with the coil, trying it on all his rats
at once, two male-female pairs and his two extra females.  The two
females, isolated from any males, were the most interesting.  One
of the females would assume the male position, trying to mount the
other while both of them squealed excitedly.  The next several days
he repeated the experiment, trying various combinations of
oscillators and filters, and tuning the circuits to maximize the
effect.  He found that by using more loops on the coil he could
make the rats fuck from several feet away,  by having two separate
coils, one which seemed to act as a receiver and one which acted as
a transmitter.  The rats didn't even have to be between them, as
long as they were close.

      He was spending more and more time in the basement, unable to
pull himself away from the experiments.  About a week later, he was
still working on his project.  He had built a bigger capacitive
diode array, hoping to expand the work to other appetites than sex,
but wasn't getting any results, except faster sexual reactions.  He
turned sharply as he heard his older sister Samantha coming down
the basement stairs.  He realized that he was embarrassed to be
caught watching the three pairs of mice fucking madly away in the
glass cage.  His sister was a year older than he, and about the
most prudish person he knew.  He thought that if she weren't his
sister, it would be a terrible waste.  She was a year older than
him, just turned seventeen and one of the prettiest girl in school. 
She had a pretty face, even beautiful in an all American way, and
a well developed body with full firm breasts and a narrow waist
leading to nicely shaped hips and long shapely legs.  He knew that
some of the boys thought she was an awful tease, but that wasn't
it.  It was just that she didn't seem interested in sex, or even to
really understand that sex was a part of every teenage boy's
interest in girls.  Sammy complained to him sometimes about boys,
but Sandy always avoided the conversations, embarrassed..

      Samantha, whom everyone called Sammy, wasn't half the student
he was, but her athletic ability had won her a gymnastic
scholarship to a good college.  She was serious about schoolwork,
but never really got into it.  She didn't share his interest in
science, preferring to study sports, and was looking forward to the
end of her senior year.  She'd been on the Tri-County gymnastic
team, and had almost made the State finals, losing out last year to
a potential Olympic contender.  She'd also been a cheerleader for
three years, and was captain of the team.  Most of the really
pretty girls that Sandy had dated had met him through her.  He was
regarded as nice by her friends, he supposed, but sort of dull.

      "What's so interesting?" she asked, walking over.  She still
had on her cheerleading outfit, carrying the bag with her sweater
and pom poms.

      "These rats," Sandy replied, covering the cage with a cloth. 
"They're not doing what I expected."

      "Ugh!  They're so gross anyway.  You can keep that cover on
the cage, thank you very much.  What are they doing that's not
expected?"

      "Uh, they're not eating the cat food pellets," Sandy lied. 
"They've always liked them before."

      "Maybe you should try rat food like everybody else," she
said.  Sandy couldn't tell whether she was serious or making a
joke.

      "Maybe," Sandy said.  "Look at the new device I'm building."

      Sammy leaned over and looked at the larger coil of wire. 
"What's it do?"

      "It oscillates," he explained.  "In a funny way."

      "OK, but what does it DO?"

      Sandy turned on the equipment as his sister leaned over the
coil, looking at it closely.  "It's bigger than the little things
you've been building before."

      She reached out to it up as he started the playback device.

      "Don't touch it," he warned.  "It's set to oscillate by
itself."

      "Is it dangerous?" she asked, pulling her finger quickly
away.

      "No, no.  It just won't work the same if you're touching it. 
It picks up body currents."

      The oscilloscope tracing jumped as Sammy quickly inhaled,
shivering.  "Oh!" she exclaimed, backing away.  "Did it just give
me a shock?  I just got a really funny tingle.  And I, well, I
don't know.  I think it gave me a shock!"

      "No, it can't do that.  I think it just picked up your
shiver.  If anything moves fast, then the electric field changes,
and it's really sensitive to that.  It's cold down here, and that's
probably what caused the shiver."

      "Probably," she said, looking a little doubtful.  "Are you
sure that thing's safe?"

      "Oh yeah," he said.  "It carries current only in the milliamp
range.  Watch, it's about to cycle again."

      "Look, I'll turn the current down by half," he said as Sammy
backed away, looking concerned.  "But there's no way it could have
shocked you.  You get more current walking past a florescent bulb!"

      Sammy came closer and watched as the device appeared to do
nothing.  She didn't seem to notice that her fingers flexed just
when the device oscillated, the tracings on the oscilloscope
converging into a complex pattern he didn't recognize.  But Sandy
noticed, wondering why it didn't have a similar effect on him.  He
watched as the neural net tried to stabilize the signals, which
finally converged into several complex overlapping wave forms. 
"OK, so it doesn't do anything.  Then what's it good for?"

      "It's a sensitive detection device.  A measurer," Sandy said. 
"That's all.  It measures tiny electric currents, using what's
called phase matching to make itself even more sensitive.  Sort of
figures out what you want to measure, then does it for you.  It
really means I don't have to paste these electrodes on the rats."

      "Lucky for the rats," Sammy laughed.  The scope tracing
flickered again, showing that the neural network circuits were
trying to stabilize a new pattern.  Then they settled into the old
pattern as Samantha's fingers flexed in time with the cycles. 
Again she didn't notice.  She ran her hands over her blouse,
smoothing her uniform.  To Sandy it looked like she was squeezing
her breasts.  "I gotta go upstairs now."

      "What did you want to tell me?" Sandy asked her.

      "It can wait," she said, suddenly seeming upset.  "I really
gotta go upstairs, Sandy.  I mean, I'll talk to you later, okay? 
It's too cold down here!  I keep getting these shivers."

      Sammy turned suddenly and ran up the stairs.  Sandy watched
her, trying to figure out if she still thought the device was
dangerous or what, then turned the current up, to the maximum range
he thought the thin wires of the coil could handle.  He pulsed it
while his eyes were closed, trying to feel something.  He thought
that he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise a little.  He
tried again, feeling the same thing, then switched it off.  He
lifted the cover of the rat cage.  One of the pairs of rats was
still fucking furiously.  One male rat was panting exhausted while
the left out female was licking herself between her hind legs, her
paws trembling violently, and the two female rats were pushing
themselves against the side of their cage, trying to get to the
male rats..

      Sandy made sure everything was turned off, then left the
rats, knowing they'd be okay.  They'd all been through this before,
and the only noticeable effect was a subsequent increase in their
sleeping cycles, although the hormone levels of the female rats
would go way out of wack for a while.  He climbed the stairs,
wanting to talk to his sister.  He knew he couldn't tell her about
the rats.  She'd be furious that he'd exposed her to the device. 
But she'd wanted to tell him something, he knew, before she left so
suddenly.  He got to the first floor, but she wasn't in the den, or
the kitchen either.  He went upstairs to where the bedrooms.  Maybe
something was wrong with her.  When he got to her bedroom, the door
was closed.  He raised his hand to knock, then paused, listening. 
He could hear strange noises coming from her room.

      "Unnnnh!  Unnh!" he heard.  "Ahhhh....  oh!"

      He waited a second, then heard another noise, like a cough,
but longer.

      "Oooh!  Aaaah!  Unnnnh!!"

      He quietly turned the knob on the door, opening it a fraction
of an inch and peeked through.  His older sister was lying on her
bed, still in her yellow and blue cheerleader's uniform.  But the
short, satin-lined skirt was yanked up to her waist and her eyes
were closed.  Her knees were raised.  Both her hands were stuffed
into the tight yellow pants of her outfit.  He could see her
fingers rubbing right over her crotch.  He couldn't believe that
his sister was frigging herself, but the evidence was unmistakable! 
He watched for a moment longer as she pulled one hand out from
under her pants and moved it to her chest.  She began kneading her
breasts through the top of the uniform while her fingers worked in
her pants.

      Her body began to shake and she pointed her toes, rubbing
herself faster and faster.  Then, making one final groan, she
rolled over on her stomach, her body writhing and her short skirt
flapping up and down over her rear.  He saw her face beginning to
turn towards him and quickly closed the door, jumping at the slight
click of the catch.  But the noises continued unabated.  His sister
hadn't noticed.

      His head whirled as he walked down the stairs to the living
room.  His sister was upstairs frigging herself, right after being
exposed to the device.  Just like the rats!  He wondered what her
boyfriends would say if they could see little Miss Perfect working
her fingers into her panties, obviously rubbing her pussy!

      Sandy had tried to get peeks at his sister's body before, but
had never seen much, just an occasional view of tit inside her
bathrobe after she took a shower.    He knew she had a reputation
as an ice maiden.  He'd heard some of the kids at school joke about
it.  She'd never do anything except kiss, and then not even with
her tongue.  But the picture of her working at her pussy, at her
snatch, at her sexy cunt, burned in his mind.  His sister had
sexual desires, just like he did, and she was upstairs fingering
herself on her bed, just like he'd wanked his dick beneath his
covers at night.  He knew what his fantasies were--he dreamed of
screwing the ever girl at school, pretty, ugly, fat thin, it didn't
matter.  His horny cock wanted all of them and at one time or
another he'd pictured himself fucking them.  He wondered what she
was thinking as she masturbated, which of the boys at school she
had pictured in her mind.

      He shook his head.  He guessed that the rapid onset of his
sister's sexual desires hadn't been entirely natural.  It just
wasn't like her.  Maybe, he fantasized, he'd invented a sex
machine!  And it didn't work only on cats and rats, but on people,
too.  If it would work on Jennifer...

      Jennifer was his main girlfriend, or had been.  She was
average looking but smart, one of the few girls who seemed to
understand Sandy's serious nature and his long-winded explanations
of the physics of almost everything.  And, as far as he knew, she
was a virgin.  She seemed intent on staying that way, too.  Their
last date she'd let him kiss her, and even touch her breasts
through her blouse.  He remembered kneading the soft flesh with his
fingers.  But he had tried to undo her buttons but suddenly she got
highly offended.  She told him she wouldn't go out with him if he
insisted on trying to take her clothes off.  He'd told her that he
couldn't stop himself, that she drove him crazy.  They'd had had a
full blown argument, although he didn't really understand why. 
Jennifer had walked away, leaving him with a hard-on that didn't go
away until he got home, disappearing into his room for a
self-inflicted hand job.  The hell with Jennifer, he thought, still
half fantasizing.  Now he had his Device.

      He'd begin thinking of it with a capital letter--the Device. 
Maybe it would work on Tammy Brown, the prettiest girl in his
school.  Or on Miss Elgin, the sexy-looking English teacher with
the most bodascious bod he'd ever seen.  Or on Mrs. French, the
big-titted divorcee, the woman he gardened for to get the money to
buy his equipment.  But first he'd have to find an excuse to get
them alone in his basement.  Sandy laughed to himself.  It was like
catching birds by putting salt on their tails.  Nice if you could
get that close.  Then he realized the solution.  He'd have to make
a portable version of the Device!

      His fantasies were interrupted as he heard water running
upstairs.  In a minute his sister came down.  She'd changed into
tight jeans and a sweater.  He looked at her with new interest,
seeing the slight mound at the vee of her crotch and noticing how
her breasts made nicely rounded mounds beneath the woolly material.

      "Hey!  Are you okay?" he asked her, thinking of the scene
he'd watched just a few minutes ago.

      "Oh sure," she said.  "Like you said, I just got a chill.  So
I put this sweater on.  How can you work down there when it's so
cold?"

      "I'm just used to it, I guess.  You sure you're all right?"

      "I'm fine," she said, looking a little annoyed.  Then she
smiled.  "Just fine."

      "What were you going to tell me?"

      "Oh, let me think."  There was a pause.  "Only that I saw
Jennifer, and asked if you and she were going to go to the football
game.  She told me you'd broken up with her, so she didn't think
so.  Is that right?"

      "I guess.  You might say we had an argument."

      "Oh, I'm sorry.  About what?  I really liked her!"

      "I don't really know.  It was sort of stupid.  But maybe I'll
call her to apologize.  I just don't know what we were arguing
about, really.  We just got angry.  I was thinking of apologizing
to her anyway.  I believe we can work out whatever the problem
was."

      "I guess that happens.  Things just blow up.  For us, I mean
kids our age.  Like sometimes we get these emotions that just sort
of take over, you know."  Sammy looked a little confused, but
continued.  "It probably has to do with hormones, or something,
just running wild.  I mean like sudden changes of mood.  You know
about that stuff, don't you?  Hormones?"

      "Well, I'm not a doctor or anything, but I know something
about hormones, I guess, from the chilly basement."

      "Like, is it normal sometimes to just get overwhelmed by
anger or other stuff?  I mean to just have it sweep over you? 
Feelings about someone?  Is that normal?"  Sammy looked
embarrassed.

      "I think so, if I know what you mean.  It happens to
everybody."

      "Umm . . . Okay.  Anyway, if you and Jennifer get back
together, maybe we can drive to the game together.  With Tommy and
me, I mean."

      Tommy was his sister's current flame.  He was on the football
team, and he had his own car.  Sammy was a cheerleader, and went to
the games with him.  But she'd never invited her brother along
before.  She knew that football wasn't high on his list of
interests.  Now she stood in the living room looking at her
brother, waiting for a response.  Sandy thought a minute, then
agreed.

      "I just thought we should do more stuff together.  You and
me, I mean.  Like double dating."  Sammy looked embarrassed, then
shrugged and walked into the kitchen.  He could hear her opening
the refrigerator, and had a wicked picture of his sister as one of
his experimental rats, biting into a head of lettuce.  His thoughts
returned to his Device, and he began to devise ways to make it
portable, small enough that he could carry it around without anyone
noticing.  

      Let's see, he thought.  If I use five or six nine volt
batteries with a step-down circuit and low power FET amplifiers, I
could probably fit it into a knapsack and still have enough power
for four or five hours at the minimum.  I'd have to get a portable
computer, maybe a notebook type for a control device.  I can't see
myself turning knobs on the middle of a date.  'What's that?  Oh,
just a new radio.  Take your panties off and watch the movie.' 
Never work.  Need a computer.  Damn, I don't have enough money for
that.  Maybe if I mounted a microprocessor inside the power supply?

      He began designing new circuitry in his head, with a smaller
power supply and a bigger coil.  He could run the control
computer--now there's a funny term, he thought--off the same power
unless there was some other feedback problem.  Maybe it should have
a rechargeable supply for the amplifiers.  He wondered if his
father would miss the batteries from his rechargeable drill.  He
decided he could rewire the drill just a little he could probably
arrange to get the batteries.  So many things to do.  So little
time. . .
      By late Friday night Sandy had completed his smaller model. 
His father had used the drill, as expected, to complete the
bookcase he'd been building, and the flash and smoke from the
slightly modified motor were impressive.  Sandy asked if he could
have it for his Science Project, and his Dad had given him the
still smoking tool, telling him to be careful with it.  He lifted
a microprocessor from his school science room, realizing he was
stealing, but not really caring about such fine points of morality. 
Science was at stake here.  He carefully wrapped a new, larger
coil, with the same thin speaker wire, unwilling to make too many
changes for fear the Device would have some awful side effects,
soldering it with great care onto the last of his junctions.

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