Rebound
mc; Mg; Mdom; oral; inc
It all started while I was doing research on Near-subsonic Harmonic Transfer, or NHT for short. The company I work for develops new technologies for the mobile device industry. The real glamour is in the Display Hardware Development division—display screens that bend and even fold are the latest sexy thing now. I work in the Audio Hardware Development division, which doesn’t get nearly the attention or budget.
So I have to be creative. NHT involves using audio signals—sound waves, that is—near the threshold of what the human ear can hear, to transfer data. Basically, all music does just that, as it transmits lyrics, melody, moods and that sort of thing. The problem is, music has to be interpreted by the listener—in programming terms, it has to decoded. If the song is in English, and you speak French, you can’t understand the song; likewise, if you are tone deaf, or simply not trained in music, you can’t understand what the notes are conveying.
What I was looking for was a way to transmit an audio signal that was self-decoding, that didn’t require the human mind to understand the lyrics or notes, in essence. The solution I had found was to use harmonics in the audio signal itself. The transfer medium, the sound waves, would include a self-decoding element in itself. If it worked, it would make wireless earbuds a thing of the past.
But as I continued my research, it occurred to me that I could use NHT to do much more than transfer phone conversations or music to a mobile phone user. With the harmonics set right, a lot of data could be transmitted on an ordinary audio track that could be seamlessly decoded directly into a person’s brain through the auditory cortex. In fact, the receiver wouldn’t even have to be aware that the transfer was taking place.
The applications were limitless—the data encoded could be just about anything. Learning a foreign language would be as simple as listening to a music MP3 file. Memorizing information, such as a contact list, would be unnecessary. The information would be encoded directly into the brain’s long term memory.
You probably have guessed the next thought that occurred to me. If I could transfer data—for example, a set of instructions—to a person’s brain without them even being aware of it, could I control their thoughts, beliefs, and actions? The data would be transferred through the person’s auditory cortex before they had a chance to consciously interpret it. While I had no background in neuroscience, what research I did indicated that the data I transferred would be sent to the person’s subconscious before their brain had any way to block it.
I set up some experiments, using my research assistant, Mandy, as a guinea pig. The first thing I had to do was figure a good way to have her listen to an encoded MP3 file. I couldn’t send a file over the corporate email system. Our company is lax on personal email policy, but the security system would block an MP3 file.
I finally hit on the idea of setting up a Youtube channel, with the MP3 files uploaded as MP4 files with no actual video component. It would be a blank screen with sound only. I could send an email with a link to the ‘video’, and include embedded instructions that the listener would forget receiving the link or listening to the file, and delete the email afterwards.
My first experiment was a success. My research assistant, a short, plump, girl working on her Master’s at State college, received the email, disguised as a link to a cute kitten video. The counter on the Youtube channel registered that she clicked the link and played the file. A few minutes later, I went by her desk, and asked her if she had gotten any unusual emails from my personal email address. I claimed that I thought my account had gotten hacked. She claimed that she hadn’t gotten any emails from me. She even opened her inbox to show me, just as her instructions had told her to.
Once I had proof of concept, I had to experiment further. If this worked, I could think of some uses for the technology that would make my life a whole lot better.
So, for my first full experiment with Mandy, my research assistant, I gave her some instructions that would be innocuous, but would prove beyond a doubt that I could control her thoughts and actions. As I came in the next morning, I passed by Mandy’s desk. She sat at her desk, processing some of my data from my mundane NHT research. She had a big bag of potato chips on her desk, and was munching on them hungrily. She was on a strict diet, trying to lose weight, so she would never normally eat potato chips, certainly not at her desk, and certainly not at 8 in the morning.
I was encouraged by how quickly Mandy was affected by NHT signals. Over the next few days, I had tested the extent of the signals. One day, I had her show up for work wearing red—red pants, red shirt, red socks, red underwear, and red lipstick. She had no idea anything was wrong with the outfit, and got into an argument with a coworker when she made a comment. After that, she got her hair dyed platinum blonde; she developed a craving for pizza, eating it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two days; and finally, she came into work in her footy pajamas and curlers.
When management became concerned with her behavior, I interceded, suggesting that she was just stressed out. I recommended she take a few days off.
After the success of the NHT signals on Mandy, I decided to use it for a more practical purpose—to improve my life. I quickly set up two MP3 files to upload, and sent links to two people. The first was for my ex-wife. You know how you read about amicable divorces in which the man and woman stay friends, but just decide they are better off living separate lives? Not so much. Or how the couple decided to get along for the sake of the children? Yeah, not that either. My ex-wife’s hired the best lawyer, found a sympathetic judge, and used the threat of losing custody of my daughter to make my life hell.
You may think I wanted revenge against my ex-wife, but I really didn’t. I just wanted her out of my hair for a few days. The instructions I embedded in the NHT signal was just to encourage her to get out of town for a few days, and to not talk to me for a while.
The one thing my ex-wife and I agreed on was that our daughter was turning into a slob. When I say that my daughter had turned into a slob, I don’t mean she didn’t dress well, or keep herself clean—her hygiene was meticulous and her fashion sense was flawless. No, her sloppiness was limited to her rooms. Her bedroom at my ex-wife’s was never clean, the source of long and loud arguments between them. Her bedroom at my place was not as bad, mainly because I cleaned it between visits, to avoid the arguments. This, of course, made my ex-wife upset with me, because she said I made her look like a bad mother.
With this in mind, I prepared an MP3 file for Alana that would encourage her to clean her room. I was hesitant to make any other changes to my little girl until I could see how these instructions would take.
That afternoon, I got a text from my ex-wife—she wanted me to pick up Alana from school and keep her for the next few days because she was getting away for a few days. I smiled as I realized my ex-wife the NHT signals had worked on my ex-wife.
I left work early and pick up my twelve-year-old daughter at school. She had been a sweet, well-mannered child, but when she turned twelve, her attitude changed. She was a cute girl, attractive, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. As her father, I wasn’t supposed to notice, but she had a really nice body. She was what they call “an early bloomer,” developing boobs just before her twelfth birthday. In the span of a few months, it seemed, she had gone from girlishly flat with no curves, to having the biggest boobs in middle school, along with a bubble butt that caused grown men to lose their train of thought. But instead of being embarrassed or self-conscious about the changes, she seemed to naturally embrace her looks and the power she wielded over boys and men.
As I pulled up in front of her school and she saw me, she glared, then got in the car and asked where her mother was. I explained that she had decided to take a short vacation and would be back in a few days. “She was going to take me shopping,” she pouted.
“I’ll take you shopping.” I offered.
She snorted. “As if.” She didn’t say anything more to me on the way to my house.
One of the sources of disagreement between her mother and I was Alana’s fashion sense. She wanted to dress like an eighteen-year-old, instead of twelve, and her mother let her. Never mind that Alana had literally caused a traffic accident in front of her middle school when she got off the bus wearing a black teeshirt and miniskirt with thigh-high stockings. A short time after that, the school instituted a school uniform dress code—I have no evidence that Alana was the reason, but I heard a rumor that her geography teacher quit when he saw her wearing a uniform. He just lost interest in teaching.
When we got home, she headed straight to her room. She stayed in her room until the pizza I ordered for dinner arrived. She came downstairs, ate two pieces, while looking at me like it was my fault her weekend was ruined. I tried to make conversation, but I soon realized I wasn’t going to get anything more intelligent than “Yeah” or “Mmph” from her.
She went back upstairs after grabbing a cookie for dessert. I did some work in my home office, then noticed that the counter on the Youtube video indicated that she had played the NHT signal.
What was that noise? It took me a few seconds to realize what the noise was—it was the vacuum cleaner running. I must admit, I panicked, afraid that someone had broken into my house to use my vacuum cleaner. I didn’t know Alana knew where the vacuum cleaner was, much less how to operate one. Evidently, she had found it, because she was vacuuming her room.
I went downstairs and fixed breakfast. She came downstairs, smiling. Her instructions had included a sense of fulfillment from cleaning. I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere, and she said she needed to finish cleaning her room and then she had to clean the bathroom. I was impressed. NHT definitely had potential.
When she went back upstairs, I got on the computer in my home office and logged in remotely to my work computer. I quickly put together a new MP3 file for Alana, giving her instructions to dress appropriately, to want to spend more time with her father, and, as I recall, something about learning better. I posted the file and sent a link email.
By Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t really tell if any of the new instructions had had an effect. She seemed to spend more time with me, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the instructions, or because she was interested in the movie on television. I thought she might have dressed a little more appropriately Sunday, but then again, she usually didn’t dress as provocatively around me.
In retrospect, I probably should have been more patient, and waited to do anything with my ex or Alana before Mandy came back to work.
Monday morning, I dropped Alana at school. When I came in to work, Mandy was back at her desk. She wore a red blouse and bright red lipstick. Her hair had been tinted red. A large bag of potatoes sat next to her desk. She was taking potatoes out of the bag, one at a time, scrubbing them thoroughly with a brush, then arranging them carefully on her desk. As I approached her desk, I realized she was talking to them. She seemed to be imploring them to turn into potato chips so she could eat them. Oof.
As I saw a couple of security guards and the HR director approaching, I went to my office to think. No one would connect me to Mandy’s behavior, I guessed. I deleted the Youtube videos I had sent her links to. If anyone did get suspicious, they’d have no way to listen to the videos anyway.
However, I had a potentially bigger problem. I had used NHT on my ex and my daughter. Could there be some kind of side-effects from their instructions as there obviously had been with Mandy? I hoped not, but I had no idea—did I mention that my specialty is physics, not neuropsychology?
It wasn’t long before I got my answer. I got a text from my ex-wife. She informed me that she had ended up in Wisconsin. Evidently she found that she really enjoyed cheese, and had spent the past several days touring cheese shops and trying all kinds of cheese. She had convinced a dairy farmer to let her move in with him, where she would be able to trade sex and housekeeping for all the cheese she wanted. She wanted me to raise Alana, and explain to her that she loved her, but she loved cheese more.
I spent the rest of the day torturing myself over what I might have done to Alana. To my relief, that afternoon, I got a text from Alana, she was getting a ride from one of her friends, and would see me at home. Nothing in the text hinted that anything was wrong with her.
I left work as soon as I could. I hurried home to confirm that Alana was all right. I walked in the front door, looking for any signs that anything was wrong. Everything was normal, but Alana was nowhere in sight. I called out for Alana, and she answered that she was upstairs.
I hurried upstairs, heading to her bedroom to confirm that she was all right. “I’m in here,” She called out, from my bedroom. What was she doing in my bedroom?
She was lying on my bed, wearing a see-through nightgown, sheer panties, and stockings. “What are you doing in my bed? And what are you wearing?” My voice didn’t sound as worried as it should have been.
She rose up on her knees, facing me. She smiled impishly. “I went by Mom’s place and borrowed this from her. I thought it was the appropriate thing to wear to get close to my daddy.”
The nightgown was light green, and her luscious breasts and pointy nipples showed through the material. The panties were just as sheer, and I could see her bare little slit. The stockings were white and made her slim legs look even longer. Her blond hair was brushed out, and she wore makeup that brought out her blue eyes. Her lips were light pink. She looked sexier than her mother ever did.
“I just wanted to get closer to you, Daddy!” Oh, crap. She lunged forward, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me.
“Alana, you shouldn’t be doing this! I’m your father.” I tried to sound firm, but I didn’t succeed. I noticed that my pants were tented. I also didn’t push her away.
“But I want to learn—I want to learn all about how to get close to you, Daddy!” Alana said as she kissed me again, sticking her tongue down my throat. She reached her hand down and rubbed my erection.
I should have stopped her right there. I shouldn’t have let her unbuckle my pants and pull my pants and boxers down. She was just twelve years old, and she was my daughter. Letting her kiss and lick my cock until it was hard was wrong. Cumming all over her face was very wrong. And when she took off her nightie and panties, leaving her in just white stockings, and presented her virgin pussy for me to deflower? I was very wrong.
And that was it. We spent the night together, and she did indeed learn a great deal, and she got very close to her daddy.
So far as I know, my ex-wife is still in Wisconsin, satisfying her need for cheddar—I still have no idea where that came from. I rationalize that she is probably happier in Wisconsin than she was here. At least, I know I am.
From what I understand, Mandy still insists on wearing red and obsesses about potato chips. Her psychiatrists are calling it a “psychotic break”—I feel guilty about Mandy, but not enough to explain to the staff at the sanitarium what her real problem is.
The non-mind warping aspects of NHT turned out to be very profitable. You probably have a wireless earbud that uses the technology. My company offered me a bonus, a raise, and a promotion. I was able to convince them to let me work from home. Not only did this allow me to get closer to Alana (and vice versa), it turned out to be necessary. I discovered that Alana was “learning to be close” to some of her teachers, so I decided she should be home-schooled. “Appropriate clothing” for Alana these days usually means lingerie or nothing at all. And she is very happy getting fucked by her daddy every day.
I’ve thought about using the NHT signals on other people—for sex, for revenge, or just for fun. I’ve resisted the temptation for now, but if you get an email with a link to a Youtube video, you may want to think twice. Or course, you might have already gotten one, and just forgotten about it…
