It is bright here. It is always bright here. The doctors need to be able to see.

I am in stirrups in a chair. There is a window to my left and a camera slightly below me. I am nude but comfortable. The room is not cold. There is a chair opposite me. It is currently empty. There is a small speaker in one corner of the room so they can communicate with me without going into the room. There is a door leading out into the hallway and another leading into the observation room. The walls are beige.

On my head is a helmet which has been fitted with numerous electrodes and sensors for the purpose of transcranial magnetic stimulation. There are no holes for my ears and so they have been pinned down inside the helmet. This is not uncomfortable. I cannot see this but there are wires leading from the helmet that connect to a computer behind me.

My legs have been strapped in. They said it was for my safety. I do not yet know what this test will entail but I appreciate their concern for my safety. They always make sure I am not harmed permanently. That makes me feel safe doing these tests.

There is a click from the speaker. "How are we doing?" asks one of the doctors.

"I am comfortable," I reply. "I have not done anything since you left so very little has changed."

The doctor behind the window smiles. I do not understand why he smiles. I think I may have told a joke by accident but I do not understand what the amusing part is.

"That's fine, Chloé. You just sit tight, the test should be starting soon."

I nod and fold my hands against my stomach. The position makes one part of my stomach fold against the other slightly. I spend some time rubbing my middle finger along the groove. It feels interesting to feel my fur brushing my finger from three sides instead of one. 

The door opens and I stop.

"Good evening, Chloé," another doctor says as he walks in. There is another person behind him. 

That other person is avian. His features are sharp. I believe he is a hawk. He has auburn feathers and deep eyes that stay on me the moment he sees me. My cheeks warm and I look at the floor.

"This is Laroc, he'll be your partner this evening," the doctor says. He turns to Laroc. "Take a seat, we'll get you set up."

Laroc sits in the seat. He is facing me. I do not look but I can feel that he is still looking at me. His beak looked so sharp. Like it could pierce my breast in an instant and rend the meat from my body.

I feel wetness between my legs. My cheeks warm more. My chin rests against my chest.

I am still conflicted about my desires. The doctors say that is normal. Someone with a fetish as specific as mine is bound to feel like it is wrong but they say it is not. They have been very accomodating in altering my test track to help me explore and accept it. I am grateful for that.

The doctors are putting a similar device on Laroc that is on me. I am still not certain what the test entails. I am aware of what transcranial magnetic stimulation is but I do not know why we are both being subjected to it. The helmet will produce electromagnetic pulses that will stimulate a region in my brain. This will allow the doctors to produce an effect in my brain without invasive surgery.

Laroc is set up now and the doctors are asking him questions. "Can you move your right arm for me? Okay, good, now your left? Tilt your head side-to-side? Okay, now say something?"

"What do you want me to say?" His voice is resonant and rich. There is a distinct feeling of arousal in my stomach. I am not sure why but I feel like I would like to hear him give me instructions. I picture him in a lab coat. It does not suit him. I look at the doctor.

"That will do." The doctors look at each other and smile. I think Laroc has said something amusing as well.

"Uh, alright."

"Okay, I think we're set up now," the doctor in the room says. "Start the feed."

The doctor presses a button and something changes. I do not know what has changed but that is what buttons do. 

"Raise your right arm again?" The doctor asks Laroc.

He does. So do I.

I look at my arm in confusion. "Hey, doc," he says and so do I, "Are you sure we're hooked up right?"

"Chloé isn't going to look like a mirror," the doctor replies. "Your right arm raised her right arm."

"...Right," we reply.

This is very strange. I feel like my thoughts are producing these movements and words but they are clearly coming from Laroc. I am able to move my head independently of his head so far but I have a compulsion to keep my arm in the same position he does, which is currently on his thigh. His hand is on his thigh that is. Mine is on my thigh. This is all very confusing.

"Okay, I'm going to go into the observation booth, and then you can start the test."

Laroc nods, and so do I, and the doctor walks through the other door.

Laroc looks at me. I close my eyes. They open again involuntarily.

There is a click from the speaker. "We are testing the qualitative experience of guided masturbation through TMS," the doctor says. "Laroc, your job is to bring Chloé to orgasm using her own hands by pantomiming the movements she would need to reach orgasm. Chloé is not reliably orgasmic through vaginal stimulation, you will need to stimulate her clitoris predominantly to achieve orgasm."

"Ooh," Laroc says and so do I.

"You may begin. I encourage you to communicate and find out what works from Chloé herself."

"Got it," we say. "So tell me what you like. Hard, soft, any particular technique..."

I think about this. "I enjoy soft pressure moving to moderate when I am closer to orgasm," I explain. I feel strange talking to him without him also talking to me. As if I am the only person in this conversation. "I prefer well-lubricated stimulation rubbing vertically and at a moderate pace. It is possible to go too fast and too hard."

Laroc nods and so do I. Holy fuck, this is hot, I think, and I blink in visible confusion. Laroc seems unaware that I seem to have heard his thoughts and is not paying enough attention to my expression to register it. I'm gonna make you come so hard, you hot piece of ass. The thought feels directed at him though I know it is directed at me. I notice his jeans shift slightly as his penis becomes erect.

The objectifying nature of his internal comment produces what I assume he believes is the intended effect. I imagine myself as his hot piece of ass. My skin is still sizzling from the oven. I am cooked to an internal temperature of 74 degrees celcius.

I squirm slightly.

"Can I get in closer?" Laroc and I say while he looks at the observation window and moves to get up. My legs strain against the bonds and my own head looks away toward the empty wall.

"Please stay in your seat," the doctors say quickly through the speaker. "Chloé is strapped in for a reason. You may hurt her if you try to walk."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." He quickly sits back down, and my legs cease their protest.

"That's fine. Continue the test."

Laroc looks at me and I am compelled to look back at him. His eyes are deep brown and his beak still appears sharp and pointed. I feel an intense and involuntary rush of arousal that I do not think was my own but I am no longer sure. I do know I am heavily flushed and my cheeks are very warm and I am very wet between my legs.

He begins by moving his right hand along his body. I do the same though my hand does not touch my own body. He tilts his head in confusion and so do I. He slaps his chest. My hand waves in the air. "Uhh, doc...?" he and I say and I look at the wall again.

Click. "Your body is larger than Chloé's. Put your hand out in front of your chest, palm in?" We do so. "Tweak the Z-factor down a bit," the doctor instructs the technician in the booth.

A moment later my hand begins to move while Laroc's does not. It slowly shifts in until it is resting against my chest. Click. "There. Now your hand is offset against Chloé's. You won't have to touch yourself for her to touch herself. You'll have to watch her carefully and talk with her to know how hard you're pressing down."

"Got it," Laroc says and we look at each other again.

He moves his hand and mine brushes up and down my chest. This is very interesting. I can feel the fur against my palm and it is nice even though it is not a sensation I would have thought to produce in myself in this way. My hand moves across my chest and then pauses. "Whoops," we say as we move in the other direction.

With great care I cup my breast. My finger gropes around a little to try and find my nipple. It takes several seconds to find it and several more to find out how to move it without losing it again. I feel like I am suddenly confused by my own body's proportions and I do not know whether it is my own reaction to my body's apparent inability to remember its own topology or a transmitted thought from Laroc.

This is so cool, I think. That was almost certainly a thought from him.

Both of my hands find the underside of my breasts and begin jiggling them. I break into a grin involuntarily. "Holy fuck," I say under my breath and attempt to pinch at both nipples. I miss both on the first attempt and it takes a moment for Laroc to find each one. When he does he tweaks and tugs at them. The technique is entirely unlike I would have done so. The alien sense of unpredictable movement intensifies the sensation and I let in a little breath.

"Do you like that?" I ask. "Yes. Good." I can hear Laroc's voice behind mine when he makes me speak. It is very disorienting.

I stop pinching my nipples and my hand moves down my body though it does not quite follow my body's contours. My hand brushes my inner thigh and I press my lips together briefly. Laroc is looking at me and I cannot look away. My hand is caressing my thigh and if I ignore my peripheral vision I can almost believe it is his hand even though I can see it gliding up and down in the air. It feels good. I am very aroused by now. I am sure this is obvious to Laroc. He appears excited.

His hand moves toward my vulva and this time does not stop and I arch. It is my own hand and it is doing nothing more than brushing against me but the uncontrollable and alien nature of it is making my body react more strongly than if I were controlling it myself. I cup my vulva and rub the entire area and suddenly I experience the phantom sensation of a penis thrusting into a vagina. I assume this is the fantasy Laroc is thinking about and I am very confused by the sudden impression that I have a penis. It feels hard and stiff and thick and his vagina around it feels very good and it twitches and semen spurts out of me and into him. 

I bite my lip for a moment. That felt very good. The other people who perform tests with me constantly rotate out and I will never see Laroc again after this test but if the opportunity presented itself I think I would enjoy my penis inside me. My penis? His penis? I am confused as to the makeup of my own body. My brain has too many conflicting signals to process.

My hand gently spreads his labia and finds my clit and begins rubbing and I moan. "Let me know what I can do," I say and I tell him "Lubricate your finger a little more. Don't you mean your finger? Yes. Your finger." 

I hesitate but not for very long. He moves his hand down and his wetness gets all over my fingers. My fingers find my clit again and it feels much better. "Like that? "Uh-huh. Dploesz--" We both stop as crosstalk confuses my mouth. "...Sorry, go ahead. Please go a little more firmly. Oh, sure."

I arch my back as the pressure against the clitoris intensifies. I am no longer sure whose it is but it feels very good. I am no longer sure whose hand is rubbing me. That's it, a little more, dirty slut. I am not sure what a slut is but I am not dirty beacuse protocol requires that I bathe frequently. I rub harder. His toes curl. It is harder than I usually rub but it feels too good and it is coming so fast I am close I am there and my orgasm fills me up

I am no longer in stirrups.

I appear to no longer be in the room I was in just a moment ago. In fact when I mentally assess my body I am lying down. I no longer have a penis. My mind is quiet and empty. I feel sore and confused and I have a migraine and my tongue hurts.

"She's waking up," comes a voice from somewhere to my left. I open an eye.

I am in a bed similar to my own. There are curtains from floor to ceiling and they surround the bed. A doctor is inside those curtains, parting them just slightly to speak to someone outside them. I hear movement behind them.

"Hello, Chloé. You gave us a bit of a fright there," the doctor says as he turns back to me. "At the end of your test you had a tonic-clonic seizure."

I take a breath. My throat is dry. "May I have a glass of water?" I ask hoarsely.

"Of course, let me just get an orderly." The doctor walks out. A moment later, I hear a door open and close.

I open the other eye and stare at the ceiling. I raise my right arm. I am surprised I can do it for a moment. My fingers are still a bit sticky. I bring them to my nose and I can still smell myself on them. I suppose it has not been that long but I am not sure where I am or how much time has passed. I suppose it does not matter. I try and relax. It is not difficult. I am very tired.

I hear the door open again and an orderly pushes past the curtains. "Okay, you said you'd like some water?" She says, handing me a styrofoam cup with a straw. I take it gratefully and begin to sip at it. "How are we feeling?"

"I am sore and I have a headache and my tongue hurts and I feel very tired," I reply. "I cannot guess how you are feeling. I do not have the helmet on any more."

The orderly smiles. That must have been amusing. I am too tired to wonder why. "That's the convulsions, they give you quite a workout," she says. Her demeanour is cheerful. "Probably the lorazepam made you a little fatigued as well. You might have bitten your tongue, but it's not cut so it's probably just bruised a little. The headache will go away on its own. Do you know what the date is today? It's the same day of your test."

"It is two thousand and four," I reply. "I believe it is May 23. It was nineteen-thirty when the test began."

The orderly nods. "It's about ten PM now. Do you know who you are?"

"My name is Chloé Viva and my ID is 15264."

"Do you know who the President is?"

"No."

"Okay. You're fine. You'll have a day or two off to recover and then you can get right back to your normal routine."

"Okay."

The orderly leaves and I am left to my own thoughts.

I assume they are my thoughts.