Controlling Women (MFFf nc mc)

by holeFair

Some experiments just can't be done on rats or chimpanzes.  How would
you get a rat to respond to hypnotic suggestions?  How would you lower
a chimp's inhibitions?  Do chimps even _have_ inhibitions?  So after I
got my insight into localized neural resonance excitation, I was going
to need some human subjects.  The idea behind LNRE is that a burst of
radio waves at ____ kHz could induce an arbitrary small group of
neurons to go into a temporary "mini-seizure," knocking them out for a
while.  The potential of this technique for studying the brain was
enormous.  When I publish --- and I will --- I'm going to be the most
famous name ever in cognitive neuroscience.

But the technical details of LNRE are not what you want to hear.  What
you want is a narrative of exactly how I tested it.  Okay.  Obviously,
from an ethical standpoint, the first subject was going to have to be
myself.  I had enough confidence in my theoretical model that I was
not afraid to put my own brain on the line.  I was pretty sure the
worst that could happen was that I'd lose a few neurons, and, if I do
say so myself, I have plenty to spare.  But this was a theory I had
developed all by myself.  It's unusual for scientific results to be
the work of one person, but I often work without collaborators, and
I'd managed to keep this project under the radar of everyone else in
the lab.  I wanted to test it without anyone figuring out what I was
up to.

So I set up the radio transmitters in my office, three of them,
artfully placed in the clutter so that no one would notice that they
were all aimed at my desk chair.  I got a bottle of pills and picked
Christina, the most punctilious, if not necessarily the brightest,
grad student in my group to do me a favor and remind me to take the
pills promptly at 3 PM.  I told her I had a dentist's appointment at
5, and for some reason the risk of infection was higher than normal,
so I should take these "antibiotics"; but I was almost certain to
forget.  At 2:55 I sat in my chair, flicked a switch, and sent a
certain group of cells in my frontal lobe into "fibrillation."
Instantly the world became a shade grayer.  I slumped back in the
chair, thought about the future, and drew a blank.  I tried thinking
about other things, and quickly decided thinking was too much trouble.
Better just to sit.  I don't know if time passed quickly or slowly;
the concept of time passing at all had been lost to me.  Time simply
was, as was I

After 5 minutes, Christina walked in. (My office door is usually
open.)  I looked up at her and the world's color scale shifted up a
bit.  I smiled expectantly at her.  I wanted to please her.  "You told
me to remind you take your pills," she said. "I did," I said, making
no move to take them.  She thought I was joking, and said, "So take
them!"  The command galvanized me. I grabbed some water and sloshed
the pills down.  They were sugar pills, but if they had been cyanide I
would have taken them just as eagerly. My indifference to everything
had been displaced by a desire to please Christina any way she asked
me to.  "Thank you," I said, probably too many times.  She left my
office; I couldn't tell how puzzled she was by my behavior.  After
another five minutes, the effect of the LNRE wore off.  The feelings
faded quickly.  The complete loss of affect and motivation during the
initial temporal stimulation is difficult to describe and difficult to
remember, as is the alacrity with which any human contact or request
is responded to.

I did more experiments on myself, but it was difficult without letting
more lab assistants in on the secret.  The main problem was that once
I had been zapped by the equipment I had no interest in continuing the
experiment.  I tried putting up written instructions.  I tried running
a video of myself explaining what to do.  This worked better, but
somehow my brain classified words coming from me completely
differently from words produced by other people.  I tried zapping
other parts of my brain, but I was worried that I might turn my
ability to breathe off.  I did succeed in amusing myself by turning
off parts of my visual field for a few minutes, but for now it was the
frontal lobe that was the most promising area for further research.

To go beyond these initial experiments, I needed subjects other than
me.  For reasons that will become clear, I chose Susanna.  She worked
in the basement, in the Business Office, doing spreadsheets for
expenses charged to research grants.  In other words, she had to take
the receipts and such scraped from academics' briefcases, backpacks,
computer cases, and pajama pockets and turn them into columns of
numbers that would impress government auditors if the need arose.  In
addition to being good at this, Susanna was attractive.  A trifle
chubby perhaps, but nice curves.  I asked if she could come into my
office and go over some expense figures.  I offered the most
comfortable chair, the one with the radio transmitters targeted at
slightly above eye level.  She sat down and began talking.  I wasn't
really paying attention, because I was gettting a signal in my
cellphone headset that told me how close she was to the target area.
When she settled back and let her head rest for a second, I could push
a button and see what happened.  It took her a while to settle back.
The tone in my head got very high pitched and turned into beeps,
indicating "target ready."  I squeezed my button, and ...

She relaxed back even more into the chair.  Some of her papers slid
off her lap.  She didn't care.  I knew exactly how she felt.  I
decided to brighten her day.  "Susanna," I said, "Unbutton your
blouse."  She did it eagerly.  She had nice tits, even if the waist
below them was bit thick.  Her bra covered them, which was a shame.
"Let see your breasts."  She pulled each mammary out of its cup and
let it flop on top.  I love the way tits look when arranged like this
(of course I love 'em just about any way).  "Caress them."  She did,
with enthusiasm.  "I'm going to join in."  Gently I let my fingers
explore her cleavage and the undersides of each teat, then I brushed
against her nipples and watch them harden.  My penis was beginning to
get hard, too.  "Seduce me," I suggested.  Her smile became coquettish
and she began to stroke my zipper area.  "I can't believe how you turn
me on," she said.  "Can I unzip you?"  "Sure," I said.

She pulled my zipper down, then fumbled with my briefs.  Fumble all
you want, I thought.  Her fingers found my shaft and pulled it through
the slit in my briefs.  It felt good to get my penis out in the air
where it could get hard without any obstacles.  I said something
inarticulate and let my erection wave in her direction.  "Can I put it
in my mouth?" she asked.  "If you want to."  She apparently did.  "Oh,
cool," I mumbled, or groaned.  She began to suck my penis with vigor.
"Easy, oh, easy," I said.  I was on the verge of coming, already.  I
was about to lose it when she suddenly stopped and recoiled, letting
my penis slip through her lips.  A look of confusion registered on her
face.  The LNRE had worn off.  Too late.  The first spurt of my
ejaculation hit her just to the right of her nose, which got me even
more excited, so that the next was a bigger shot, in her eye.  I had
enough control to lean down, so that the remaining, smaller spurts and
drips wound up on her breasts, but what a mess.  I stumbled back and
sat down, caught my breath, and began cramming my dick back in my
pants.

I tried to act natural, tricky under such unnatural circumstances.  I
happened to have a box of kleenex, although I hadn't even thought of
such basic provisions.  I grabbed a handful, wheeled my chair over,
and began daubing at Susanna's face and chest.  "Oh, honey, that was
wonderful," I said, with utter candor.  She could not believe what she
had done.  The pleasure she got from obeying every suggestion was
receding rapidly, and she seemed to be fighting to keep that feeling
rather than face the embarrassment and revulsion at the thought that
she had just behaved like a cheap hooker.  She grabbed the kleenex
from me and wiped her breasts as thoroughly as she could, poured them
back into her C-cups and began putting the buttons of her blouse back
together.  Before she finished, she remembered her face.  She stood
up, grabbed some more tissues, and turned away from me as she cleaned
herself off.  "Prof. Potter, ....  I don't know what came over
me.... I'm sorry."  I held her by the shoulders.  "Please, please,
what are you talking about?" I said, "You're obviously as attracted to
me as I am to you.  And call me Bruce."  I caressed her shoulders,
then moved my hands down to her breasts and kissed the back of her
head.  She spun away.  "No, I'm not, ... Bruce.  I don't think I am.
I'm happily married.  I've never done .... I've never wanted to
.... My husband and I have always been faithful to each other; and I
plan to keep it that way .... or I thought that was the plan."  She
looked like she might cry.  "I'm sorry," she said again, "We're going
to have to go over those figures some other time."  She opened the
door and left, looking a little wobbly.

Although the theory of LNRE was getting ample confirmation, the
technology had one obvious flaw: the effect lasted for too short a
time.  If this were fiction, then I could invent a radio-wave
polarizer or turn up the volume, but, alas, there was no obvious way
to prolong the effect.  I would have to resort to the pedestrian
scheme of renewing it as necessary.  Would repeated exposure to the
radio waves have any adverse effects?  Probably not, but brave
volunteers were needed.  None having come forward, I decided to work
with non-volunteers.  Actually, there was just one target I had in
mind, and had had in mind all along: Prof. Janice Karno, the
department chair, my nominal boss.  Her office was down the hall from
my mine, or rather, mine and everyone else's was down the hall from
her splendid corner office with the best view in the building.  Our
university is famous for its ravines and bridges, and she could look
out over a few of them as she called the Provost to thank her for
appointing her chairman over more deserving candidates, like me.

The next day I called Janice up and asked her to come to my office.
"Shut the door," I said, "I have to discuss something slightly
delicate with you."  I motioned her to sit down in the same Target
Chair Susanna had enjoyed, and then started talking about the
difficulties some Master's-degree student was having in some class or
other.  There was always some Master's-degree student in over his
head, so it wasn't hard to pick one.  As she nodded, and shifted in
her chair, I could see she was about to ask why I was bothering her
with this stuff.  Fortunately, the tone in my ear told me she was in
the "zone," so I pressed the button and she stopped caring about how I
was wasting her valuable time.  I glanced at the clock, then said, "I
want to talk more about Jin-yi, but first, please take your clothes
off."  She was so eager to comply she ripped a button off.  She didn't
try to make a striptease out of it.  If I had asked, she no doubt
would have, but science demanded some discipline out of me.  As she
stepped out of her panties, her last remaining article of clothing, I
couldn't help but be impressed with how pretty she was, and how pretty
her pussy was in particular, but before getting down to business I
asked her to sit back down.  I held her shoulders and kissed her.  "Do
you know how attracted to you I am?" I asked.  She shook her head.
"Just let me move you a bit."  She responded to my pressure as I moved
her slightly to the left, then back a bit, until the tone in my head
was just right.  Click went the button.  I looked at her.  Her head
hadn't exploded or anything like that.  "How do you feel?" I asked.
"How do you want me to feel?" she said, smiling.  Good, her verbal
centers seemed to be intact.  "I want you to love me," I said
sincerely, staring into her eyes, "Just as I love you."  That last
part wasn't so sincere.  I kissed her again and she kissed back
passionately, letting her tongue nip mine just a bit.

I needed to get my clothes off for the next phase of the experiment.
I didn't bother with a striptease either.  In no time I stood in front
of her with my penis jutting out.  I sat down in my chair and told her
to come over to me.  She stood up and I took a few seconds to admire
her body.  She had small, delicate breasts with hard nipples that
stuck out almost a centimeter.  Her waist was narrow, and, although
her hips were a bit wider than was fashionable, her legs tapered to
slender, beautiful ankles.  She was close to my ideal of what a
woman's body should look like.  Her pussy was a demure slit, unshaved
but with only a light, fine covering of hair.  Actually, the slit was
becoming a bit less demure as her arousal grew.  I could see the lips
beginning to swell, and her clit beginning to poke out.

I took her breasts in my hand, stroked them, and squeezed her nipples
a bit roughly.  She moaned and moved closer, straddling me.  My penis
brushed the lips of her vagina.  As she braced herself, I reached down
and used it to stroke her clit, smearing it with the seminal fluid
that was already leaking from the tip.  I hated to have to glance at
the clock, but I wasn't going to have time to dawdle.  "Put it in," I
grunted, and she eased down onto me, taking my penis into her.  She
seemed to get as much pleasure from this as I did, and she was soon
rhythmically fucking me.  I was going to come pretty fast again, but
suddenly there was a knock on the door.  "Stand up," I hissed.  She
did, of course.  I thought fast.  I wished I had a bathrobe or
something!  But first, I had to reset the clock.  "Sit down for a sec,
Janice." She did.  Click.  "My love, go see who's at the door."  She
walked over to the door, still nude.  "Who is it?" she called.
"Mommy?" came a voice from the other side.  "Who the hell is that?" I
asked.  "Did you forget?  It's Take-Your-Daughter-to-Work Day.  That's
my daughter, Laura."  "How old is she?"  "Eleven."

I had about twenty seconds to decide what to do.  I decided to take a
bit of a chance.  Reset the clock again?  No, no need, just relax.
"Invite her in, then shut the door," I instructed, walking over to a
corner of the room that couldn't be seen by anyone outside the office.
Janice opened the door wide, and stood there stark naked.  "Come on
in, bunny," she said.  (Bunny?  There's no accounting for
endearments.)  I couldn't see Laura, but I imagined her jaw dropping.
The instruction to "shut the door" was still reverberating in Janice's
head, so she pulled Laura into the room, and shut it.

"Hi, Laura," I said gaily, and strolled back to my chair as if it were
the most natural thing in the world.  My sang-froid wasn't quite
enough to keep me stiff at this point.  But in for a dime, in for a
dollar.  "Janice, please help Laura take her clothes off, too."
"Laura, bun, let's go," she said, and began to unbutton her daughter's
blouse.  Laura was dumbfounded.  "We're practicing a special
human-psychology demonstration," I ad-libbed.  "Don't worry."  Laura
allowed her mother to continue undressing her, more because she was
completely stunned than anything else.  When her training bra came
off, my penis got hard again at the sight of the breasts budding on
her slim body.  She took after her mother; I could see future
greatness in those hips and legs.  She kept her panties on, so I had
to imagine her pussy.  Can't have everything.  "Watch now," I said, as
I led Janice back and got her back into fucking position.  "Tell Laura
to come closer," I said, "Reassure her."  "It's really all right,
bunny."  At this point Laura's curiosity about anatomy began to get to
her.  It helped that her mother and I seemed so casual about the
situation.  She came over and bent, then kneeled to get a better look
at my penis and her mother's vulva.  I still had a great view of her
titties.

She had a pretty good view too as her mother sank onto my penis and
started fucking me again.  "You can touch it if you want," Janice
said.  "Ew, it's all slimy."  Janice and I giggled.  "Well, my balls
aren't slimy.  Touch those."  It was too bad I didn't have the time or
skill to maneuver Laura into the LNRE zone, but I didn't want to
violate any statutory-rape laws anyway.  At least, I _hoped_ I wasn't
violating any laws.  I grant that my knowledge in these matters is not
that great.  Nor was my ability to think that great when Janice was
humping me up and down keeping those beautiful breasts wiggling in
front of me.  I would have loved to put them in my mouth, but the
damned clock was ticking.  The key point was to have an orgasm, and do
it inside her cunt, her wonderful cunt, which was amazingly tight and
smooth for a woman with ... how many children? ... Hard to recall such
things when all you can think of is how your penis is swelling, how
great it feels to have a pubescent girl touching your testicles, and
how great it is to begin to spurt inside the cunt of a beautiful
woman, ... spurt .... spurt .... spurt.  I sagged back.

"Oh, love, how was that?" Janice asked.  "It was terrific, you are
terrific," I said.  "Thanks, Laura, you were a big help."  "I was?"
she asked, wondering what she had done and what was going on.  "Mom,
why are we all naked, and why are you having sex with Mr. Potter?"
Eleven-year olds are not that naive these days, and not that dumb
either, at least this one wasn't.  Fortunately, Mom was in charge, and
she was about to become extremely confused.  For a few more seconds,
though, she had a question that struck her as deeply profound.  "Why?
Because he asked me, and because I want to please him more than
anything else in the ...."  Oops.  She fought to keep her train of
thought.  "I mean, it's hard to grasp exactly, but when he told me to
.... it just seemed ...."

She suddenly stood up and tried to cover herself with her hands,
always a beautiful gesture when a woman tries it, from the birth of
Venus until the present age.  It doesn't cover much, and looks
adorable.  This lasted about two seconds, while she staggered back
against one of the bookshelves lining the walls of my dark cubbyhole
of an office.  Then she started snatching up clothes as fast as she
could.  "Turn your back," she commanded.  I stood up in what I hoped
was a leisurely fashion, reached calmly for my clothes and began to
put them on.  "But, Janice, how can you become so cold?"  "Bruce,
goddamn you, turn your back."  I did, sort of, but I could still see
Laura, who was staring at my penis as it shrank back.  I let her stare
for a long second, and I stared back, smiling at the sight of those
cute little tits.  Then I started to get self-conscious myself,
suddenly aware that my middle-aged paunch protruded more than my dick
ever had.  "Laura, put your goddamn clothes on.  Are you out of your
mind?"  "But Mom...," said Laura, giving the word "Mom" two syllables
in the time-honored teen-age manner.  "Didn't you tell me to take them
off?  I mean, what the hell is going on?  This is _so_ embarrassing."

It's amazing how fast three people can get dressed when circumstances
abruptly change.  Within seconds we were back in our usual roles, or
at least pretending to be.  Actually, my role was not my usual
Resentful Underling, but more like Ardent Suitor.  "When can I see you
again?" I asked Janice.  "In hell," she replied.  "But," I said, "You
can see how much I love you --- how much we love each other."

She didn't know how to reply to this, not with her daughter standing
there as a witness to the plain fact that her mother was carrying on
an affair with Prof. Potter.  "I'm going to have to sort this out.
For now, just assume I'm never going to ... 'see' you again.... not in
_this_ sense, for God's sake."  She grabbed Laura's hand, "Bun, I am
really, really sorry you had to see this.  It's not what you think.  I
... I...."  Laura looked at her and at me.  Maybe the phrase
"human-psychology demonstration" was still in her head; maybe there
was some innocuous explanation for what sure looked like ordinary
adulterous fucking.  She continued to look very, very puzzled as her
mother opened the door and dragged her out.

For the next couple of weeks, I enjoyed myself around the Department
much more than usual.  I would stop down at the Business Office and
look in on Susanna.  "Do you have time to go over some figures?"  I
would ask.  She would get remarkably nervous as she she pulled my file
from the drawer.  I would bend over her desk to look at some numbers,
and touch her shoulder.  "Please, don't do that," she would ask, and I
would look hurt.  Hilarious.

Janice's behavior was even funnier.  She called me into her office two
days after our romp, and told me to shut the door as I came in.
"Sit," she said, in her usual brusque manner.  She herself didn't sit,
but paced back and forth.  I was a bit worried at first, but then she
said, "I have thought over what happened the other day and it makes no
sense.  I've finally decided that the only way to explain my behavior
is that I've got a brain tumor or I had a mini-stroke or something."
She stopped and stared into space for a second, then continued pacing.
I relaxed and enjoyed the fine view of the autumn leaves her office
afforded.  "I've made an appointment to have an MRI.  I don't know
what to tell Laura.  I had a talk with her and got her to promise not
to tell her father --- or anybody else --- until I figure out what's
going on.  I don't want her to worry and I don't want her to think her
Mom's a tramp."  Tramp?  How about "slut," Mom?  This was great fun.
"Janice, I don't know what to say.  I feel like I've let down my guard
and admitted how deep my feelings are for you, and, ... and all you
can say is that you must have a _brain tumor_?  Is that what you think
it would take for you to love me?"  She glared at me as she sat down
at her desk, putting it between her and me.  "Bruce, boy, it would
take _two_ brain tumors."  "But you said...."  "I know, I know, and
...."  She swallowed hard and said, in a low voice, "I'm sorry."  Wow.
"I didn't mean to lead you on.  I must have been incredibly horny that
day.  Sometimes when the hormones hit, you get weird."  We know,
Janice.  "But, one thing for sure, it will _never_ happen again.  I
don't love you, I didn't mean to encourage you, I regret having sex
with you, and if you ever tell my husband or anyone else, I will kill
you."  This last bit was not a mere catch phrase, I could tell.  No
problem; I'm not the bragging type.  When I publish I'll use initials
for the names of the subjects.

After two such successes I didn't dare try anything else except for a
few further minor experiments on myself, adjusting the parameters to
see what the boundaries were.  I was careful to make sure I was never
interrupted during the minutes when the LNRE apparatus lowered my
defenses so completely.

Then one day Christina came in to talk about her research.  I sat in
the most comfortable chair, as I always did in student meetings,
listening to her talk about what she had done lately and giving her
pointers.  At one point I lounged back as she started working on the
board, drawing a hidden Markov model or something.  All of a sudden I
stopped caring about what she was saying, or about anything else.  If
I had had any motivation, I would have looked to see if she was
wearing a cellphone headset, or if the hand in her pocket might be
holding a little remote-control transmitter with a button.  But I
didn't care about any of this. "Just sit there for a while," she said
and smiled.  I grinned back.  Now _this_ was something I cared about
--- doing what she asked, pleasing her.

She went to the door and nodded, and in came Janice and Susanna.  "We
figured it out, asshole" said Janice.  I smiled at all of them.  "Get
a pad of paper and a pen."  I leaped to obey.  "Now sit back right
there and make yourself comfortable," said Susanna, holding up the
clicker.  "Move to the left just a tad."  Click.  "Feel anything?"
"Not really."  "Good" "We have something we want you to do," said
Christina.  "Gladly," I said.  "Write out a complete account of all
the ways you've mistreated human subjects in the course of this
... research, if that's what it is."  "Like a table of events and
dates?"  "No," said Janice, "Make it a narrative.  Sign it and date
it, so we can turn it --- and you --- over to the University.  And,
eventually, to the authorities."  "Okeydoke."

So that's it.  "Am I done?" "You are."  Okay! --- Dr. Bruce Potter,
October 30, 2004
