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What Really Makes A Scientist Mad Ch. 01

By: Bardoc93



Chapter One

She wasn't a supermodel; in fact you would have thought her rather drab. She was a little over weight maybe 10-15 pounds and her fashion sense only exacerbated her Plain Jane image. She wore loose oversized jeans and too big Flannel work shirts with ankle high steel-toed work boots. Her coal black hair fell barely to her neck and was held tightly in place in a flattened ponytail that sort of looked like a beaver tail. She worked at the Ford plant on the assembly line. At 28, she drifted through life with very few friends and as far as I could see, no lovers. 

Her name was Sherry Anne and she was the daughter of my next door neighbors. I had watched her grow up. My parents had died in an Auto accident and left me the house when I was 19 and shortly after that she was born. I was a vicarious witness to her first steps, her first bicycle ride, even her first date. I watched her grow from a skinned kneed tomboy to a vivacious teenager. Then in her Junior year of high-school something happened, I don't think it was as traumatic as a rape or something because the changes were gradual. She started dressing in looser baggier clothes and the flow of friends to her house slowed then stopped.  

I don't want to make it sound like I was lecherously watching and following her around or anything, I wasn't. I had married my wife Mary about the time she was born and was happily married as she grew up. It was about the time she left for college that Mary died. She was gone for 7 years. When she returned she hadn't really changed much, if anything she was more withdrawn and private. I had heard from back fence gossiping with her mother Joan that she had gotten her degree in International Business went to work for a New York accounting firm and then got caught up in the banking scandal when her firm was found to have falsified some audits. She hadn't been involved but all the employees had pretty much been blacklisted.

All the kids in the neighborhood knew me, Mary and I couldn't have children so I probably was more tolerant to them than I would have been if I had kids of my own. I was always pulling quarters out of their ears, making dollar bills disappear and predicting what card they had in their hand. Since I was an electronics engineer there was a seemingly endless stream of boom boxes, game consoles and tape players flowing through my garage workshop, as any problem that involved electricity was brought to me. I didn't mind at all, I enjoyed the problems. As I sat there taking a console or CD player apart the kids would talk to me. I guess since I wasn't a parent, they figured they could tell me stuff they couldn't tell their parents and I never betrayed their confidences. They were all good kids; I might have said something if there had been drugs or promiscuous sex or anything serious but there never was. It was all about who liked who, what was happening at school, what they wanted to do when they were older and the part that tickled me the most trying to decipher what the adults in their life really wanted or said. Being an adult with no children I'd do my best to tackle the different request and usually could come up with a logical reason a parent would tell them to do certain things, sometimes not, some things seemed to be beyond logic and they appreciated that I saw those too.

Sherry had been a frequent visitor when she was young because Mary also spoiled the kids, always having fruit Juices and Kool-Aid and cookies or cakes. Sherry would sit and watch me work in the garage, sometimes talking about school, boys and life in general, sometimes just sitting with a faraway look, daydreaming the day away. Then in her junior year, she just stopped visiting. There was one last visit in the summer before her senior year. She had brought over a VCR that was eating tapes and I had it apart on the bench checking the tape path. She sat quiet, her large doe like eyes slowly blinking as she stared off into nothing. They had already diagnosed Mary with the cancer that would eventually kill her, though we hadn't yet told anyone, so I was somewhat preoccupied, her silence fit my mood.  Out of the blue she said "Me and Donna aren't friends anymore" Perhaps if I had picked up on that and asked the right questions things would have been different. But I didn't, I just told her that it wasn't uncommon for friends to hurt each other and to give it time and it'd be better. "Not this time" her voice dying down to a sigh and her eyes staring into the void again. I looked at her, she didn't look unhappy just very inwardly focused. "You know you can always talk to me or Mary if you have a problem, don't you?" Her eyes acknowledged me and went back to her thoughts and I went back to mine.

I saw very little of her and didn't speak to her for eight years. For me, her senior year was full of the madness that is any fatal disease, denial, anger, depression and finally acceptance and the endless background grief that brings. With Mary gone and the worse of the grieving behind me, I could have maybe still been able to influence Sherry, but by that time she was gone out west to a University.

Over the years I had come up with a number of different processes and circuits used in the Audio-Video field and the patents I owned supplied me with, in my opinion, the exact right amount of money, a little more than I could spend in a year. I wasn't extravagant, new car every two years, kept the house up and maintained and had money for new gadgets and experiments. Once a year or so one of my experiments would supply another patentable idea so it slowly grew. I was happy, life was good. 

For the last year or so I had been experimenting with audiovisual cues, how different frequencies of sound, different types of sounds coupled with the right visual patterns would invoke emotions and responses. It was pretty amazing what you can do with the two but it wasn't until I threw a third variable in the mix that it became both heaven and hell to me. I had been reading in the journals of experiments involving small amounts of current being radiated into parts of the brain evoking neurons to fire, letting a person experience pleasure, pain, emotions and even sometimes memories.  I wondered how this would interact with my current experiments. A few short weeks later, after a number of overnight deliveries from parts houses and the smell of burned components, I had exactly what would answer that question. 

It looked and felt like a semi-soft plastic ring that circled the head with a soft nylon webbing that fit snugly across the top of the head holding the 1/3 of an inch thick circlet firmly in place. Inside were three separate micro-current transmitters spaced evenly around the circlet, which could be electronically aimed at any portion of the brain. Any two of the beams were too weak to trigger the neurons. It was only when all three beams were precisely focused that it would fire them. I was very pleased even if the experiment failed I had designed a couple of circuits worthy of a patent.  I used my own brain to calibrate it, saying I was extremely careful is an understatement. Over the next weeks I mapped out my brain using the major studies for known regions and expanding as much as I could while using myself as a guinea-pig. I stayed away from the visual and auricular regions since I had sophisticated external effects for those regions. My biggest fear was the memory and sensation regions worried that I'd hit that perfect feeling or the perfect memory and I'd keep going back over and over till like the rats in the cocaine experiments I'd quit doing anything else till I died. I was diligently watching for the dangers I perceived and the one I didn't almost killed me. It was my very first program where I was going to sync audiovisual with the cap as I'd come to think if it. It was a simple program a short repetitive sequence of sounds and visuals designed to relax the mind and body, with the cap following a complex algorithm of short semi-random burst in the regions I thought of as safe. I had tried this algorithm before and its seemly random firings filled you with a tremendous feeling of wellbeing. I could see how over time it could possibly be addictive. Checking to make sure I was recording, something I do for all my experiments I hit "Enter".

My body screamed with pain from being in one position too long and I would have screamed physically except my mouth was so dry no sound would come out. As more sensation returned to my body I could tell I had soiled myself repeatedly. I could hear a steady pounding on my back house door. Stumbling to the sink I doused my head and drunk straight from the faucet, cleared my throat and kept repeating till I felt I could talk. I opened the upstairs garage window where my shop was and yelled down to Don, Sherry Anne's father. From the looks of the day it looked about dusk so I had been out for at least 10 hours. He said he hadn't seen me for a while and just wanted to see if I was okay. I told him still being perfectly honest I was involved in an experiment and had lost track of time. He said "Let me know if you need anything" which I thought a little strange but was in too much pain to worry about. I hobbled over to the kitchenette table and sat down hard, starting to feel sleepy and hungry. All that was on the table was a basket with a blackened shriveled up banana that...I had bought that morning! Suddenly wide awake I grabbed my phone from on the counter, I had 3 voice messages and it was 7:38 PM On Friday! I had turned the program on at 9:30 AM on Monday. I was much too tired and hungry to figure out what happen now, I took a hot shower to clean the filth off me, it had the added benefit of loosening my muscles, I quickly heated and ate 3 cans of soup and stumbled into bed. I slept for 17 hours.

Over the next week I looked at every aspect of the accident. One of the first things I did, even before reviewing the data, was to incorporate an automatic shut off to the program. If it completed two complete loops with no new input, it would shut down. Satisfied that I wouldn't accidentally kill myself, I started digging into the causes. The first thing I realized was just how lucky I had been, Don had saved my life. 

My house is not overly fancy, a 3 Bedroom ranch set on 2 acres, I have a large 3 car garage with a "Maids" apartment over top. It was the Maids apartment that I had converted into my laboratory. The closest neighbors Joan and Bob were across a side flower garden opposite the side the garage was on. Over the years we had developed a friendship of shared property lines and interests in flowers and decorating. Between our two side gardens we shared a chest high whiteboard fence with a gate in it. Most of the property extended to the rear where I had a covered stone barbecue pit, a rather large building that I had originally envisioned as either my shop or perhaps a woodworking shop but as of now it was a junk house filled with garden tools and equipment. A few years ago, the neighborhood had been plagued by a series of break-in's and vandalism, In response, I had installed a number of high amperage flood lights around the back and sides of the house. They were setup to only work at night when something set off one of the proximity detectors. I had installed them before I decided to make the garage my workshop so I had added them to the garage electrical box. As I added more and more equipment to the garage I passed the maximum load for the main breaker. It had never been a problem before because I seldom worked past six and I could count on one hand the number of times the lights had been triggered. Don, coming over to check on me, had triggered the floodlights overloading the garage since I had most of my equipment on also. The loss of power had stopped the Cap and the AV machines. The Generator I had installed for the shop had kicked in but thankfully everything went to its standby state when power was restored.

A week later I took stock of what I knew, first off, I was damn lucky to be alive, only a fluke had broken me out of the loop. But that paled to insignificance when I listened to the three voice messages. The last one was nothing just static; the middle one was Joe Parker thanking me for my quick response and excellent design. The first one was Joe asking me if I could design a board for him. The first call was from late afternoon Monday and the second early Tuesday. 

A couple years before I had installed a camera system in the shop, three cameras pointed to the bench from different angles since that's were most experiments were setup. Only the 4th a wide view of the entire shop area was of any help. 

Spot checking up until the time of the phone call I could see myself sitting, apparently not moving a muscle. When the phone rang I still didn't move a muscle it was only when Joe called my name and asked if I was there that I turned my head and said "Yes I'm here." Joe said "I need a board designed as quickly as you can; I sent a copy of the Specs to your email."  I watched myself stand up turn to the computer and open the email program and look at the Specifications. I continue watching as I open a CAD program and drew out a schematic and a board layout, I skipped thru it, and it took me 9 hours to do it. I attached it to an email and sent it out. I returned to my seat and sat back down, as far as I could see from skipping through I didn't move again till the cameras suddenly quit from the power going out. I looked at the design, it was one of my best, crisp and clean, it did exactly what it was supposed to with no wasted circuits. The board layout was the best I'd ever done. I've went thru the video a number of times during the entire process I never pull out a reference book, recalling everything from memory, including the physical sizes of the components on the circuit board. 

I spent the next few months rebuilding, retesting and exploring the effect. The more I learned about it the more exhilarated and intense I became and yet at the same time the more scared and paranoid. I started slow and built up, first I had everything shut down after 30 seconds gradually increasing the time to an hour. I measured all of my vitals both before and afterward and they never showed any significant difference, if anything they were a little closer to ideal for a relaxed seated person. I thought about buying an EEG but after looking over the Specs I realized it wasn't precise enough and I sure couldn't afford to spend a couple Million on an MRI suite though I could see the advantages of using the system with an MRI it'd allow a very precise mapping of the brain and in conjunction with the cap would allow very precise control. I knew of a half a dozen firms that would instantly fund me just from the tape and my reputation. Having a firm as a partner would basically let the cat out of the bag, from what I knew now I wasn't at all sure if I wanted anybody to know about it. At times I was tempted to make myself forget I had ever discovered the effect. From my research and experiments I knew I could do that. While in a trance state any suggestion took on the power of a command, even post trance orders were carried out to the letter. I was very thankful that during my "Trance" a telemarketer hadn't called and told me I couldn't live without something, it would have become true. I knew I had come as far as I could alone, I needed an assistant and I knew the perfect one.

What Really Makes A Scientist Mad Ch. 02



For a week after the thought occurred to me about her, I debated, first: whether I wanted anybody to know. Second: What was my real motivation? I knew it worked from the experiments I had performed on myself. The shock of a cold shower with my clothes on brought home the fact I could order any action at any time in the future and the subject would not only obey but have no inkling that someone was controlling them. While under the Cap I had told myself I would, after eating lunch, walk into the bathroom stand under the shower and turn on the cold water. I would not think about it or realize I had ordered it till the shock of the cold water hit me. It worked perfectly.

So that begged the question, if I wasn't going to reveal it, why did it need further testing and tinkering? If I wasn't going to release it why did I need an assistant? Why did I need Sherry Ann? One thing I wasn't going to do was make her some brainless robot, sexual or otherwise. The truth was I felt sorry for her, she had been a bright vivacious teenager, full of potential both physically and mentally and then something happened that dimmed her physical star and a few years later her mental star had been dimmed. I wanted to help.

Two weeks later I was standing in front of Joan and Bob's door, on a night I knew Sherry Ann would be home. I'd called them earlier in the day and told them I needed an extras pair of hands, an assistant for a while and if Sherry Ann would be interested in working evenings with me. Joan immediately invited me over for supper saying we could discuss it over dessert. 

I haven't really said much about my neighbors. Joan and Bob's last name is Berry. The house had been Bob's parents while I was growing up. Bob was maybe 8 or 9 years older than me so even though we lived next door to one another we'd never had much to do with one another, the age difference making a lot of difference when you're young. Now though we had developed a friendship. Joan was younger around my age, though it was hard to tell. I remember the first time I saw her. It was before they were married and I was a teenage hormone mill, she walked out in to the back yard in a bikini. She never had the skinny model kind of beauty but the full bodied, in your face, get over it, they're breast, kind of body. She was the spitting image of Jayne Mansfield. I guess I was like a baby duckling and the combination of too many hormones and the strikingly beautiful female form imprinted me for life. To this day that epitomizes the perfect woman, the only real difference, I prefer darker hair, perhaps because Joan out grew her blonde hair in favor a rich, wild black. After Mary died, yes she was the same build and hair a deep dark chocolate, I had toyed with the idea of trying to seduce her, but by then my friendship with Bob made me reluctant to do anything, I liked Bob too much to cause him harm or distress.

Joan opened the door and I was not disappointed. She wore a dress, I think it was supposed to come to just above the knee and look chic, but on her figure by the time it got past her superlative hips and buttocks it was mid-thigh. It was cut low in the front with one side wrapped over the other cupping her generous breast like hands giving an offering, drawn tight to a cinched waist. Worn by a modern bulimic model it would have looked lean and chic, emphasizing small breast, worn with perhaps a belt to highlight the small waist and hips. On Joan, it was the embodiment of sex, desire and want. It took an intense act of will to force my eyes off of the offering in front of me and look her in the eyes and smile. "Thanks for having me over, Joan" I said as I leaned over and kissed her check and she kissed mine. Even this innocent action excited me, for even leaning that far towards her; I could smell the musky sweetness of her subtle perfume and feel her breast press against my chest. I could feel hard pebbles on both breast and I exhaled a soft sigh as I drew back and showed her the bottle of wine I had brought.

"I'll open this to breathe, come on in, Bob's in the family room watching the football highlights" she smiled and said in a bubbly voice, as she took the wine, turned and seemed to almost dance to the kitchen. I stood mesmerized by the undulating dance her hips did and the swinging flip of the hem of her dress, which drew the eye with the hope, the dream of maybe seeing a few more inches of her thigh. As she turned the corner from the hall to the kitchen her change of trajectory caused an extra high flip to the right and showed a dark band on her stockings. I realized she wore real stockings with a garter as opposed to pantyhose. I took a moment to compose myself and readjust my underwear that kept feeling tighter and tighter. I walked into the family room and greeted Don.

I just read over that and I made her sound like pure distilled sex with a breathy bubbly voice that makes anything she says sound like an open invitation and eyes that seemed to challenge you and invite you at the same time, you know a total a slut waiting to happen. I was right too, about everything except the slut part. As far as I know she had never cheated on Don and he always looked completely satisfied, if a little bemused. As for intelligence, she had a working degree in Archeology and during my early years with Mary was often gone to various regions of the world on digs. Now she was a stay at home mother and wife except for her twice weekly lectures at the University. 

We sat in the Family Room watching the past weeks pro and college football highlights and said very little other than an occasional signaling of approval or disapproval as each team's plays were splashed across the 60 inch TV. The entire time I could hear the occasional bang of a pot and other noises of activity from the kitchen, once she walked in from the kitchen and said to Don "Tell him how much you lost on that bet with Bruce, Dear", Bruce being her brother. It was said in a loving teasing way and Don harrumphed and hawed and acted like he was totally engrossed in the TV. She giggled as she practically skipped back to the kitchen. I was speechless watching her walk from the front was even more enjoyable than from the rear. It was much too mild to say her breast bounced, it was more on the order of the ebb and flow of the tides with a majestic and powerful arc with her visible nubs as a guide on an arc that started low and rose up and to the right then slowly falling in a Reciprocal path to the left. I had seen similar sights from her before but I never tired of it. 

Don broke my train of thought and said "75 bucks, I was always a sucker for Cleveland."

I heard someone come down the stairs and go into the kitchen, I heard Joan say "Sherry. check on the vegetables for me, will you Sweetie?" All I heard from Sherry was a low murmur. 

Don shifted in his chair and looked me directly in the eyes. "Sherry's my only child Connor, I won't see her hurt. I don't know exactly what you're doing over there, but from the way you looked when I came over a few months ago, I know it could be dangerous." Don continued to look at me his eyes questioning me. 

I thought about exactly what I should say. "Don, I can't tell you exactly what I'm working on. I must decide whether the benefits outweigh the disadvantages of releasing it before I'll talk much about it. But I will tell you this much. It does have some inherent dangers especially for someone alone. Two people knock those dangers almost to zero. All the testing I've done shows absolutely no physical effects. It involves the brain and how the brain learns and retains knowledge. I can't guarantee 100% there is no danger, but I've taken every step I can to lessen it and I will not do anything to Sherry I haven't done to myself first." I looked at him and said "I will do nothing to her she doesn't thoroughly understand and agree to." Since I was serious, the look in my eyes and the sound of my voice must have convinced him. 

His eyes soften and he nodded "I didn't think you'd ever intentionally hurt her Connor, but I had to ask."

Joan called from the hallway "You guys go into the dining room; I'll have Sherry bring you something to drink." 

Don switched the TV off and stood up "We'd better do as she says; you have no idea how persuasive she can be, I let her persuade me all the time." He said with a wink and walked into the hall.

The rectangle table had 4 Place sittings and assuming the host and hostess would have the ends, following a vague wave of Don's hand, I sat on one the right side. Joan leaned in from the kitchen and said "how about it, Ice tea sound good, or if you prefer I could pour you a glass of wine." 

"No, Ice tea sounds right, I'll have a glass of the wine after dinner" I replied. 

I could hear the tinkle of ice, then a giggle and a sharp gasp. "Mom!" I heard Sherry Ann exclaim. A number of different scenarios' ran through my head, the benefits of too much porn I imagine, before settling on the most likely, she had touch her neck with a piece of ice. 

A few minutes later I got my first glimpse of Sherry Ann. It wasn't as bad as I thought; In fact it was pretty impressive. I guess the Beaver tail hair and over sized clothes was her go to work look. She had let her coal black hair down and had a Betty Page haircut. She had purplish red, Mary used to tell me all men only knew primary colors, loose fitting slacks and a pale purple blouse with only the top button unbuttoned showing only the dimple in her neck. She was carrying a platter with 4 glasses and a pitcher of tea. As she bent over from the left side to put it on the table, she couldn't defy gravity and her ample breast pushed her blouse out even farther and I got a glimpse of the cleft of her breast. I realized as she sat down with a juggle that she really wasn't that much over weight, just well-endowed top and bottom. In fact in every way except her personality and vagaries of fashion, she was her mother 20 years ago.

It was a pleasant meal. Joan kept up a witty, intelligent conversation with occasional stories of her various adventures while out on digs. Don or I would interject an occasional comment or question but we were both content to let Joan talk. Mary Ann sat quietly with her head down as if she was staring at her plate but her eyes had that faraway look I'd first noticed in her as a kid. Occasionally she'd quirk her lips in the beginnings of a smile or a fleeting frown would phase through. Joan was animated with sharp quick movements and lots of jiggles. Occasionally she'd take a deep breath pushing her breast out and if she was trying to make a point she'd lean forward and tap her finger on the table, I very seldom saw the finger, my attention was riveted to what that flexing of her muscles was doing to her chest. I kept hoping that the gyrations would make her dress open a little wider and I'd get a glimpse of her nipples. Joan was extremely skilled at the art of exhibitionism; she'd titillate and tease but never show her goods, I'd been trying to sneak a peek for almost thirty years with no success. Sherry Ann was quiet with a pose of such serenity any Greek statue would envy her. Both were in their own way nice eye candy. 

As the meal wound down, Joan grabbed her and Don's plates and started towards the kitchen. On impulse I grabbed mine and Sherry Ann's and over Don's protest that I didn't have to, I carried them to the kitchen. I know Joan had heard Don and had set up the pose I found her in on purpose, but I had to stop in appreciative lust as soon as I entered the kitchen. 

There stood Joan bent from the waist with her legs perfectly straight, shoulder width apart, placing the plates in the dish washer. Her dress had flipped up and her garter straps perfectly framed her heart shaped ass and highlighted the wispy black panties with the slightly damp camel toe indentation in the middle. Hearing me stop, she glanced under her left arm and smiled at me and winked. Dozens of scenes pass through my head. Me striding forward sliding her panties to the side and ramming my cock into her to the balls, Me on my knees reaming out her slit and vacuuming her clit, Me grabbing her shoulders, twirling her around, forcing her to her knees and with my hands holding her head steady ramming my cock down her throat, Her ass, her tits, hand jobs they all flashed through my head. 

Then, for the first time temptation set in. It would be so easy; I had the parts, it would only take a couple of hours to make another cap. I could invite Don and Joan over to show them what I would have Sherry Ann doing and once they had the caps on, they would do anything and feel anything I told them. Joan would worship my cock; she would offer all her wet holes begging and pleading for me to ravage her and love it. Don would not only think it was perfectly okay put actively help Joan prepare or just invite Joan over, make her think a secret affair with me was what she'd always desired and that having me cuckold Don would be the hottest thing she... A bolt of horrified panic and shock shot through me, my stomach began to roil, my knees weakened and my ears rang, what was I thinking, in my lust I was thinking crazy stuff, this had to stop.

I swiftly sat the plates down and stumbled back to the dining room. For the rest of the evening it was as if I was wrapped in cotton I heard everything but as if it was from a distance. Joan came back in with the wine and glasses and poured all four of us a glass. I twirled the wine glass in my hands staring into its bottom, a malaise fell over me and I was terrified I had even thought of using the cap. After a few minutes I had gained enough control to glance over at Joan, I saw a guilty worried look in her eyes. She looked at me from the corner of her eyes with a puzzled look, She knew something had happened but wasn't entirely sure what it was. She thought she had gone too far and offended me. I gave her a wan smile and winked at her. She perked back up. 

Don, Joan and I drank our wine but Sherry Ann never touched hers. Joan turned to Sherry Ann and asked what she thought of the idea of assisting me? Sherry Ann never made eye contact keeping her eyes on her hands which she slowly rubbed back and forth and spoke in a low breathy hesitant voice. I honestly don't know what all was said, the whole discussion passed in a daze. I do remember we decided that the next Monday she would come over for a couple hours after work and I'd explain what was involved and we'd see where it went from there. As she was agreeing she finally made a shifting eye contact with me, there was something odd about her look but in my bemused state it didn't register. It was only after I was home and calmed down that I considered it. 

Shortly after the agreement pleading exhaustion from to many long days, I made my goodbyes. Shaking Don's hand and again leaning over Joan to lightly press my lips against her cheek and it was even better this time she slid her hand up my shoulder and subtly nudged me closer and in addition to her perfume, a night of animated conversation had deepened the musky woman smell and added to the hormonally charged space. Telling Sherry Ann I'd see her Monday, I hurried home. 

Shortly later lying in bed I went through what I could remember of the last conversation deliberately refusing to think about the thought of misusing the cap. I thought about the look in Sherry Ann's eyes, it was Hope? Respectful" respectful hope? No that wasn't it. As I was drifting off to sleep the thought "Devotion" came into my head, she had looked devoted. But devoted to what? The dreams started that night.