Summary: mind control, incest, Mf
Ever take note of the fools people will make of themselves to get their pictures taken? What if we could exploit that?
See No Evil: Contains sexually explicit and politically incorrect material. If you shouldn't be reading this, or if it might offend you, simply stop now.
Legalese: All actors and actresses are over the age of consent. Proof of age is on file. Any similarity of any character, event or place to any actual person, event or place, is purely coincidental. This is all fantasy, and the actors are all professionals -- do not try any of this at home.
Archiving: You are welcome to discreetly repost or archive this, just do not change it, steal from it or claim credit for it.
Author's Ramblings: I am working on wrapping up a couple of my unfinished stories, but this tale bubbled up out of the murky magma that is my brain in one sitting, sort of as a stress relief (been traveling every weekend with my job the last few months).
Warning: morbid self-reflection ahead.
I was a really big fan of Dierdre's. Her stories consisted of a set of quickly sketched scenes where reality simply melted into the sexually-laden substrate underneath and it was almost like watching one of those animation flip-books, the plots moved so quickly.
Hopefully, I've kept her sense of just how sexual things are underneath the surface and how that can just erupt into our artificially staid everyday lives. I haven't kept her quick, light style, I'm afraid. My characters are an unruly bunch that each demand (and usually get) their ten minutes on stage. So far, this has worked well enough, though I reserve the right to change in the future.
This story is different from my other ones in that I did NOT follow all the story leads nearly as far as I usually do: just three major interactions -- bap, bap, bap -- with lots of potential paths still unfollowed. Not a Dierdre story, but a step in that direction. Let me know if you prefer this less exhaustive style of plotting. I can change how many story leads I follow up on (though I won't change Dierdre's approach of that delicious promise of what is on everyone's mind, just underneath the surface, if only they knew and admitted ...).
P.S. I know I break the framework: the story starts as an email, but you wind up getting more information than Robert got from the email. I cite precedence with Ellery Queen, where the occasional scene showed more than our detective observed.
Live well, Jafar
Author's Note:
Q: How do you get a twinkle in a blonde's eye?
A: You shine a flashlight in her ear.
By this point, we knew that SOMETHING was going on, you and I.
Other people were catching on too:
Thursday, November 15th. Paul was really wound up today ....
"Man, you OWE me," Paul pointed his forefinger at Robert, "for bringing you IN on this!"
"Okay, okay, I'll owe you. For bringing me in on what?"
"Just follow us," Al Chadburn nodded smugly. Altus -- Principal Chadburn's son -- had been a fat pimply brat as a child, and he was now a fat pimply brat as a young man.
Paul Glickman was a skinny, pimply geek. The mad scientist comes in two flavors: the arrogant bastard that tampers with things that man was never meant to tamper with; and the timid genius with the occasional perverted taste. Paul was of the latter category. He was already accepted into MIT, where he would work with laser and sub nuclear fusion and other scary things while paying for sex with the monthly prostitute.
Paul was also Robert's best friend.
"Man, you are going to LOVE this!" Paul spun around, ready to pop with excitement as he and Robert followed the fat kid up the hall.
"Easy, Paul. Don't wet your pants."
Paul deflated and turned back around, considerably dampened. "Man, you're not showing NEARLY enough appreciation for this," he muttered.
The halls were empty, abandoned by the students when the end of day bell rang twenty minutes ago.
Al came to a stop in front of Miss Caloway's geography classroom. Debra Caloway mostly taught 8th and 9th graders, but she was the centerpiece in many a wet dream by all male students. And male teachers. In fact, the principal would like to bend her over and ....
She was in.
The three boys stepped into her classroom. "Hi, Miss Caloway," Al smiled. "Tina told you I was going to come by to take your picture for the yearbook, didn't she?" He dropped his backpack and dug a camera out of it.
Miss Caloway frowned. "No, she didn't say anything about--"
"Guess it slipped her mind," Al shrugged, "But that's okay."
Flash.
"Uh ... yeah ... I guess. Where ... do you want me to pose?"
"Why don't you come around to the front of your desk?"
She came around and sat on the edge, laying her hands in her lap. "Like this?"
"Beautiful!" Flash. "Have you ever thought of modeling? You'd be wonderful at it!"
Miss Caloway giggled and shrugged. "I've thought about it a couple times."
Flash.
"Well, now's your chance."
This was starting off just like Principal Chadburn's session with Mrs Stotter and Ms Carmichael the other morning! Could ... Miss Caloway be ... ?!
Could God BE so kind ... ?
Flash.
"Beautiful! Beautiful! Now turn around and give us a come-hither look over your right shoulder."
"Like this?"
Flash.
"Yes! Exactly like that! Now cock your butt out and shake it from side to side for us."
Robert had been going to say, "This isn't right, you guys," but the ass in question began undulating and sapped that moral stance clean out of him.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
"Have any of the students ever told you you're pretty?"
She smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, they tell me that sometimes."
Flash.
"Good! 'Cause you have a hell of an ass, woman!"
She giggled and shook it again.
Flash.
"Now turn around and give us your dumb blonde look."
Giggling, Debra turned around, crossed her eyes, slacked her jaw and smiled. "It's like ... y'know ... all about what's important. Ya know? Hee-hee."
"Great! You make a REALLY good dumb blonde, Debbie! You're a natural blonde, aren't you?"
"Yeah," she giggled. "As blonde as the fur between my legs."
Flash.
"Wow, a natural dumb blonde!"
"No, not a natural DUMB blonde, just a nat--"
Flash.
"That's what I said: a natural dumb blonde. But look at you -- you're even getting confused about whether you're dumb or not. Trust me: you are."
"I-- I am?" Her brow furrowed. "But ... but I'm a teacher."
Flash. "You're eye candy. Just dumb eye candy that we let dress up like a teacher 'cause you're HOT that way."
"But--"
Flash.
"We ALL wanna boff you, Debbie. And it just makes you SO wet between your legs thinking about all the stiff pricks standing up just for you! But, no, you couldn't think your way out of a wet paper bag, you blonde, big-titted bimbo."
"But ... I'm ...."
Flash. "Damn, your dumb look is hot, bitch! And you wear it all the time!"
Flash. Flash. Flash.
"But ...," she whined.
"Okay, look, I'll prove it to you. I'm going to ask you a question in just a second. Now picture the answer. It's like a beautiful, multi-colored butterfly!"
"Ooh!" she cooed.
Flash. "But you can't catch it. No matter how hard you try, the butterfly zigs and zags and darts and you just can't get your dumb pretty blonde bimbo hands on it. So let's try. Ready?"
"Ehr ...."
"Quick! What's the ancient name of Thailand?!"
"I-- It's--"
"QUICK!"
"It's-- I know it. It's--"
"Hurry! What's the answer?!"
"I-- It's-- ooh!" She stamped her foot. "I KNOW this one! It's-- it's on the tip of my tongue!"
"Brrrrrrnnnnnnggggghhhh! I am SO sorry, Debbie! But you have missed that question. The proper answer, if you had any brains inside that dumb blonde bimbo head of yours, is Siam."
"Siam! Yes!" she snapped her fingers. "That's it! I knew that one! I don't know why it just slipped my mind ...."
Flash. "No, you didn't. You don't know it. Or you would have said it. Right?"
"Yeeeaah."
"So you're dumb. You're just dumb blonde bimbo Debbie."
"No," she pouted, brow furrowed. "I'm not. I'm a teacher! I'm smart!"
"Care to play again?"
"Yeah! I'll show you! I'm smart!"
Flash. "Okay, Debbie. This time the answer is a bee, and it's buzzing around your nose."
"Eeww! Yuck!"
Flash. "You are so sexy when you show off your bimbo-hood! So the answer bee is buzzing around your nose, and you're going to try to catch it between your thumb and forefinger. If you succeed, he'll sting your thumb, which will swell up like a red, throbbing golf ball, but that will be okay because you'll be able to answer the question. Now if you CAN answer the question, we'll admit that maybe -- maybe -- you're not just the dumb blonde bimbo that you are. But if you can't--"
Flash. "If you can't answer it, you'll have to remove your blouse."
"My blouse?! Wait--"
"Quick! What's the northernmost country in South America?! Quick!"
"I-- It's, uhm, that one ... that one that ... it's wide and flat ... and it's got a really long name ... and Juan Valdez works there ...."
The three boys looked at each other. Juan Valdez?
"C'mon, Debbie! HURRY! You're running OUT OF TIME!"
"Oh, dammit!" she stamped her foot. "I KNOW this one!"
"Brrrrnnngh! Apparently you don't ... know that this country is called Venezuela."
"Yes!" she jabbed her finger at Al. "THAT'S it! Venezuela!"
"Debbie, Debbie, Debbie. Dumb blonde Debbie. The shirt, babe."
"Nooo," she held the front of her shirt to herself possessively.
Flash. "You HAVE to live up to your promise, dumb Debbie."
Flash. "And you'll make all of our hard-ons swell just a little bit harder. And that thought REALLY turns you on, dumb Debbie."
"I-- It will? Really?"
Al nodded.
"Cool!" She began unbuttoning. After a couple moments, she dropped the blouse to the floor. "Are you guys ... really ... swelling for me?"
The three boys nodded.
"Cool!"
Flash. "I'm sorry. I just can't stop taking pictures of your pretty dumb blonde looks!"
"Well ... I guess it's okay if you do that a little bit. I DO get sort of ditsy sometimes."
Flash. "Okay, Debbie. This time the answer is an angry wasp!"
"Oh!" her brow furrowed with concern.
"And it's coming after YOU, Debbie! It's going to sting YOU!"
"No!"
"Run! Run from the answer before it stings you!"
"Please! Don't!"
"QUICK! What's the capital of Europe?! Quick!"
"I don't know! Stay away from me, answer! Stay away!" She waved her arms in front of her like she were swatting at a wasp.
"You don't know?!"
"No! Stay away!"
"And the answer is--"
"Stay away!"
"Europe doesn't have a capital. Europe isn't a country."
"Oh."
"So ... take off your skirt, dum-dum Debbie."
"But I can't."
Flash. "But you HAVE to. You lost the question. You HAVE to take off your skirt."
"But--" She dropped her voice to a whisper, "but you're students!"
"Students with hard-ons!" Paul piped in.
Debbie gestured toward Paul while she looked at Al and nodded. "Students with hard-ons." See?
"And you're a dumb blonde bimbo that's getting really hot thinking about our erections."
"I ... uh ...," she fidgeted with her hands a moment, then unzipped the side of her skirt. "You guys can't tell ANYBODY about this!" She slid the skirt to the floor, then stood back up.
"I'll get the door," Paul said and stepped to shut it.
"Debbie," Al whispered, "your crotch is really WET!"
"I KNOW!" She fidgeted from leg to leg. "And you boys are seeing me in my underwear, and you're not supposed to, and that's making it even WETTER!"
"Squishier?"
She nodded sincerely. "Squishier!"
Flash. "I know that you're so horny you could explode, but do you think you can keep from frigging yourself for a couple more questions?"
"I'll try."
Flash. "Okay, Debbie. This time, the answer is a poisonous snake slithering toward you."
"Eeeeewwwwww!"
"Yeah, ew. And it's trying to bite you."
"No!"
"Quick! What's the capital of New York? Quick!"
"I don't know! I don't want to remember! Don't bite me!"
"Is that your final answer?"
"Keep the answer away from me!"
"And the answer is ... New York City. Lose the bra, Debbie."
"Actually," Paul corrected, "the answer is Albany."
"Well ... she still has to take off the bra," Al protested.
"Oh, I would agree!" Paul nodded.
"And since I missed the question too, I'll just whip out Long John Thomas here."
Miss Caloway's eyes grew wide. "You will?"
"After you lose the bra, bitch."
Debbie reached behind and unsnapped her bra, then let it fall, exposing D-cups with the biggest, pinkest nipples any of the boys had ever seen. Of course, none of them had ever seen any live naked breasts before.
"Oh, man!" Paul writhed in his seat, "We are seeing Miss Caloway's TITS!"
"John Thomas?" the blonde teacher prompted.
"Sure." With almost a strut to his actions, Altus unbelted, unzipped and dropped clothing to reveal a perky little three-incher. "Bet just thinking about this monster gets you all hot and ready, hungh, Debbie?"
Reverently Debbie reached out to touch the little fella.
"Man, is that all you've got?" Paul asked, blinking his eyes.
"You think you can do better?"
Robert's best friend stood, unzipped and dropped to expose fourteen inches.
Debbie gasped and moved to reverently run her fingers over the new guy. After a few moments, she turned to Robert. "Bobby?"
Robert unclothed to reveal the average six inches, but certainly an enthusiastic six inches. He almost squirted when she touched it.
"Yeah, well, it's not the size, it's how you use it," Al stammered. "Okay, Debbie," he brought the conversation back to the pretty blonde. "Last question. What country do you reside in?"
"Oh, I don't know about all that complicated political stuff," she flicked her hand and giggled. "I'm just your basic dumb blonde. Pretty to look at, but vacant," -- she knocked on her skull with her fist -- "up here. Guess that means I lose. And these come off." She stood and hooked her thumbs in her waistband, then pulled her soaked underwear to the floor and stood back up. "See? Natural dumb blonde! (giggle) Guess you boys are seeing ALL of me now! And I'm ready for some student COCK!"
The boys began running their hands over the dumb blonde teacher's body and they were soon in a knot of flesh on the floor with her.
Dumb Debbie was on her hands and knees, ass in the air, making little squeals in time to Paul's pumps from behind while Robert and Al laid out a round.
"Man, what is happening with these women?!" Robert wondered.
"Which ones do you mean?" Al asked.
"Well, there was Mrs Stotter. And then Ms Carmichael. Now Miss Caloway."
Al got a smug smile on his face. "I think all the bitches are getting camera-happy. Why ... I've even done your mom twice."
"You shit!" Robert punched him in the upper arm. "Don't even lie about that!"
Al massaged the punched shoulder. "I've done her twice," he repeated defiantly, "and she's a good enough that I may do her a couple more times!"
"You -- !"
The door opened then, and Becky Lane, senior and head cheerleader -- who had been going to plead for grades from Miss Caloway -- stood in the doorway sucking in air as she gaped at the awful scene in front of her.
Al dove for the camera.
Flash.
"We're doing a (flash) photo session and you really (flash) REALLY (flash) want to join in, Becky!"
"I ... ehr ...."
Flash. "Let's start off with a naked cheerleader routine ...."
Robert wasn't paying much attention to the carbohydrates and esters during first period chemistry class. Instead, he was worrying about what Altus Shitbum had said yesterday.
About ... "doing" ... his mother.
The little prick HAD to be lying. There was just no way his mother would EVER ... bend over ... for the likes of him. Or for anybody.
But ... then ... Miss Caloway would never strip for three students, either.
Until now.
He fidgeted in his seat. It was all fun and games when it was some other teacher or somebody else's mother that was stripping and posing and doing nasting things for you.
But when it was your OWN mother going down like that ....
He decided that whatever was causing all these other women to be talked into being whores, his mother was immune to. Because she just wouldn't ... ever ....
Not ever.
He would have like to have talked to his dad -- obviously he couldn't talk about this specifically! But talking with his dad had a way of making him feel that everything was going to be okay. His dad was on a business trip for two weeks, though.
The classroom door opened and Mrs Stotter poked her head in. "Mr Jesperson? Principal Chadburn would like to speak-- ooh!" She jiggled, slapping something away from her ass and revealing in the process that she had on a candy pink tube top. Then she refocused. "Principal Chadburn would like to speak to Robert Metcalfe for a little while." She put on her perky face. "Please?"
"I ... guess. Mrs Stotter, are you feeling all right?"
"Oh, never better, baby!"
Jesperson turned to Robert. "Mr Metcalfe, you are excused to go with Mrs Stotter."
Robert gathered his books and stepped outside.
Mrs Stotter was wriggling while Paul felt up her ass.
"I thought you might want to frolic some," Paul grinned.
"Yeah, thanks, man."
"Hi, Bobby!" Mrs Stotter lightly tapped him on the nose.
"Hi, Mrs Stotter."
"Oh, call me Barbie, Bobby. It makes me feel more like an empty-headed sex doll. OOOH!" She wriggled at Paul's wandering hand again.
"You ought to call Tina and have her come home for the weekend. Then you could BOTH do a photo shoot for me," Paul encouraged.
"Oh, no, I'd rather Tina not get involve--"
Paul brought his camera up. Flash.
"Just think, you could ... kiss .. her. Man, that would be HOT!"
"I, ehr ...."
Flash.
"And she'll make you even more attractive to me, Barbie."
"She ... will?"
Flash. "Yeah! There's nothing hotter than a babe and her daughter babe both together!"
"I ... uh, guess so."
Flash. "So you're going to call her?"
"Yeah."
Flash. "Even you have to agree that she's hot enough to drool over, Barbie."
"Yeah, she is ... a hottie."
"Now you're coming around, Barbie. And those TITS! Don't you just want to squeeze those tits of hers?"
"They ARE pretty squeezable, aren't they?" Barbie grinned. "And when she traipses that ass through a room, you just get the urge to smack it a few times until it makes her all hot and wet and wriggly!"
"That's the spirit! So you're going to call her?"
"You bet her ass, baby! Meanwhile ...." She cupped Paul's crotch.
Paul looked at Robert. "Man, this is how things OUGHT to be!"
"But Tina is our friend, Paul."
"Yeah, our friend with TITS!"
"But the three of us used to play together all the time. You can't just ... use ... her!"
"We'll be better friends than ever. We'll just be playing a different kind of game." Paul wagged his eyebrows.
"Hide the salami!" Barbie giggled, still cupping Paul's crotch.
Paul gestured at Tina's mom. See? Hide the salami. Even her mom's okay with it.
"Oh, think of that little hussy's ass, Bobby," Barbie traced her other forefinger down his chest. "Don't you just want to rub your stiffie up and down the greased-up globes of that ass? Until you just squirt your load all over them?"
Robert looked at Paul. "Man, what have you done to Mrs Stotter?"
"Do you like her? I went over and we had a long talk last night."
"Well, you talked," Barbie giggled. "I just sucked and bounced. And posed."
"What about Mr Stotter?" Bobby asked.
"That dickless bitch?" Mrs Stotter sneered.
"We had a photo session where I cut a hole in a pillow," Paul smiled, "and he tried to hump that. Then I sent him and the pillow into the closet for an intimate date the rest of the night. Then Barbie and I discussed lots of things."
"I want you now, baby," Barbie sighed, her face serious, her hand working at Paul's crotch. "Do me! Here in the hall! Please?"
"Hold on to your panties, Bar--"
"But I'm not WEARING panties," she smiled naughtily, shaking her head. "And I wanna hump my daughter's boyfriend!"
Bobby looked at Paul. "You were never Tina's boyfriend."
"Oh, but he WILL be, as soon as she gets a glimpse of this magnificent schlong!"
Paul puffed up and smiled smugly.
Mrs Stotter stepped in front of Paul, her back to him, then leaned over, pressed her ass back to his crotch and wriggled it.
Paul grabbed her hips to still them, then began rutting his crotch against her ass cheeks, causing her to coo. "Man, I LOVE this family!"
"I'm going to go check on my mom," Robert said, "and give you two a few minutes of privacy."
"Thanks, man," Paul said, unzipping.
As he walked up the hall, Robert saw Becky the cheerleader standing outside a classroom with Mrs Barclay, a redhead history teacher, and Mr Phillips, the nerdy physics teacher.
"There's really nothing to discuss, Oscar. The girl is strutting around today in this short skirt. PANTILESS!"
"I have the RIGHT to not wear panties!" Becky protested. Al had planted that thought in her steamed-up little mind yesterday afternoon.
Mr Phillips gestured toward the girl. "See? There IS something to discuss."
"Oscar?!" Mrs Barclay gasped. After a few moments, though, she narrowed her eyes as she realized that Oscar was one of THOSE male teachers that was OKAY with ogling eighteen year old students. Well, it might be legal, but it sure as hell was immoral! This girl was a student, for Christ's sake! "Mr Phillips--" she said as she raised her hand to point her finger at him.
Mr Phillips brought a camera to his face at the same time.
Flash.
Mrs Barclay lost her train of thought and shook her head, trying to regain it.
"It's good for women to break out of the straight jackets that men bind them in, don't you think?" Mr Phillips suggested to her.
"... ehr ... yes, of course."
Flash.
"It's GOOD for women to be uninhibited, to be free!"
"Ehr ... yes ...."
Flash.
"Becky here is a model of 'uninhibited.' You can learn a LOT from Becky, Mrs Barclay."
"I ... uhm ...."
"Here. Watch. Becky, flash me your boobs."
Giggling, Becky yanked her sweater up to expose her breasts.
"Nngg!" Mr Phillips whined at those big pink nipples that Robert saw yesterday afternoon. Flash. The photo of those nips would be a keeper!
Mr Phillips turned to the redhead teacher. "Now your turn, Elaine." Flash. "Show me yours."
"I ... ehr ...."
Flash. "Show me your boobs, Elaine."
"I ...." She began unbuttoning her blouse, unsure.
Flash. "Proudly, Elaine."
She tried a hesitant smile on her face as she spread the front of her blouse, then let the clothing drop to the floor.
"Now what's wrong, Elaine? What's in the way?"
"My ... my bra?"
Mr Phillips nodded.
Flash. "Now show me those AWESOME boobs you have, Elaine."
With a firmer smile, Mrs Barclay reached behind herself and unsnapped. She slid the straps off and let it drop to the floor.
"Wow, Mrs Barclay! Boobs!" Becky giggled.
Flash. "Nice 'uns," Mr Phillips commented.
"Nice ... 'uns ...," Mrs Barclay echoed as she traced her palms over them.
Flash. "You're a model for women everywhere, Elaine."
She looked at him, puzzled.
Flash. "You're independent, uninhibited ... and you're baring your boobs."
"I ... I am, aren't I?" She was still tracing her palms over them and the nipples were VERY erect.
"Now, let's discuss panties ...."
Robert continued up the hall. As he passed by Mrs Caloway's classroom, he opened the rear door and stepped inside.
Debbie was wearing a tied-off white men's shirt, daisy dukes and heels.
"And they completed the canal in ... in ... oh, I TOLD you boys," she wriggled at the front of the room, "You can't LOOK at me all GA-GA. You're making me-- ... I'm gonna WET my PANTS up here, you guys!"
Three girls rolled their eyes, clucked their tongues, slammed their books together, then walked toward the door to leave.
Al Chadburn hopped in front of the door to stop them.
"Out of the way, Altus," the girl in the center, Julie Preston, the class valedictorian, told him. "You're not even IN this class. You're just sitting in for some reason today." She turned to glare at the wriggling teacher. "Though I can GUESS why!"
"But you ARE in this class, so learn what Debbie is teaching you, Jules."
"YOU learn, Al. Sit here and ogle the slut teacher. I'm leaving."
Altus whipped up a camera. Flash.
"Oh, stop it, Altus. Get that camera out of my way."
Flash. "Smile, bitch," Al grinned.
The two stared each other down for a couple moments, then Julie splashed a smile on her face. "Happy, Altus? Now step aside, please."
Flash. "Oh, what a dazzling smile! You ought to keep it on your face all the time!"
"I ... well ... thank you, Altus," she pulled her bangs back and treated Al to a another pleasant smile.
Flash. "In fact, all three of you are REALLY pretty! Pose for me."
All three girls smiled, pleased, and touched their hair, then leaned together and smiled, posing for the camera.
Flash.
"What about ME?" Debbie asked, strutting over in her daisy dukes.
"You're just a slut," Julie smiled condescendingly.
"You always DID resent that *I* was assigned to be your independent study adviser instead of Mrs Payson," Debbie sighed. "But you know what? You really AREN'T so smart at all, you little tight-assed stuck-up boring repressed frigging twat." Smile.
"YOU--" Julie clenched her fists.
Flash. "Slap her!"
"Bitch!" Julie slapped Mrs Caloway.
Mrs Caloway held her hand to her cheek. "You brazen little SLUT!"
Flash. "Catfight! Tear off each other's clothes, girls!"
The two women grabbed each other, and Julie's blouse was promptly ripped off, to her horror.
Flash. "Tear each other's clothes off, girls!"
A few moments later, Mrs Caloway found herself topless.
A few flashes later, Julie's pants had been removed and, a couple flashes after that, her bra.
Flash. "Okay, girls, time to ease off the fighting start getting turned on. C'mon, let's make up. Let's take it from slaps to caresses."
Flash. "Let's start purring, girls. Softer ... softer ...."
Flash. "Time to let our lips brush, girls."
A few flashes later, the teacher and the valedictorian had their tongues buried in each other's mouth, caressing and groping each other like fresh lovers.
Al turned to Julie's two friends. Flash. "You too, girls. Time to strip and join in."
A few more flashes later, Al had the ladies all posing at the front of the classroom for the enjoyment of the rest of the class.
Robert stepped back out and made his way up the hall to his mother's classroom. Holding his breath, he peeked through the window in the front door.
She was holding a book, reading from it, then set it down and wrote on the board.
Fully dressed.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Things were just getting too weird. But at least she was okay.
He walked back up the hall to his starting point to find Paul and Barbie naked in the stairwell across from chemistry class, her face bobbing at his lap. They were working toward Paul's sixteenth ejaculation, so he was showing some staying power.
Robert sat on the step next to his naked friend. "What do you think is going on here, Paul?"
"Somebody's been programming our women," Paul sighed while Mrs Stotter continued to polish his rod. "Programming all of us, actually, because the flash worked on Mr Stotter last night. So watch yourself, Robert. Don't let anyone take your picture."
"But how? Why? Is it something chemical? Something that light activates?"
"It has to be something chemical, a drug, to be this powerfully persuasive," he gestured at Tina's mother, bobbing at his lap. "I don't think it's light-activated, though. The optic nerves don't have a direct connection to the parts of the brain that deal with learning or suggestibility.
"No, I think they take a natural instinct and exaggerate it. People just naturally do what a photographer tells them to -- smile, move a little to the left, put your hand on your hip. There's a natural reward mechanism too -- people are flattered when the camera pays attention to them. This combination of compliance and reward make for a natural garden for suggestibility. Lingerie photographers -- like the guys that do boudoir photography for housewives wanting to give their husbands a special gift -- will vouch for this. Once a woman gets past her initial nervousness, her instinctive exhibitionism and suggestibility is unbelievable! They can't GET them to stop stripping and flirting!
"The programming probably requires the flash as a trigger, sort of as the key to unlock the suggestibility, though I would have expected a more complex key to be required." He gestured again at the mewling mother on his rod. "It wasn't too hard for us to figure it out and exploit it."
Robert sighed. "Who do you think is doing it?"
"I don't know. The government? The ATF? A secret society? I don't think it's anyone local. I'm the smartest kid in this city -- despite what Julie Preston will try to tell you -- and I'm not smart enough to do this. I mean, I can figure out where they're starting from, but how to go from there to these results--" He gestured a third time at Mrs Stotter's rhythmic head and shook his.
"They're going to come after us, aren't they? They won't like us abusing what they've set up."
"They'll come after us -- all of us -- for sure. Though if they're this powerful," Paul shrugged, "there's not much we can do about it except enjoy it while it lasts." He grinned. "And I'm not a VIRGIN anymore, Bobby Boy."
"What do you think they'll do to us? Blow up the town?"
"Hopefully not. That would put them in the multi-millions of dollars for munitions plus the awkward task of explaining what happened -- whole towns don't blow up every day. No, with the powers they have with the mind, I expect they're much more likely to brain wipe us."
"Brain wipe?"
"Yeah, erase our memories of the last few weeks, make us think that it's been business as usual instead of sex city."
"Any way to avoid that?"
"Funny you should ask. No, I don't think we can avoid it. Whoever is behind this is far too powerful for us. But I may send my notes and observations and suspicions out on the net in a series of packets, time-delay them, let them bounce around on relatively prime cycles and schedule the LCM of those primes so the packets all re-meet at my MIT email account next winter. I'll be able to factor the messages back together and read my notes. I may not believe them, especially if the people that do the brain wipe program into us some type of aversion to conspiracy theories when they do the clean up here. But ... if they slack on that point, and then I could do some more research on this ... maybe ... maybe exploit ... exploit it ...."
He gripped the stair step he was on. "Here comes number sixteen!" He clenched Mrs Stotter's mouth caught his liquid artillery round.
"Ohgod your seed tastes god, Paul! I don't WANT to share you with my daughter!"
Paul reached for his camera. Flash. "But think how hot it will make me to see you two tonguing each other."
"Yeeaaahh ... you're right."