Feminazi (F Original Super Terror)

[psiberzerker]

This is an Original creation, with some inspiration from Marvel Comics:



However, this isn't that universe, nor our own.  Call it Science Fiction, but our biologies are similar enough that the theoretical compound "Theone" might have the same affects, if it existed.  Likewise, other brand names like Rheinmetall, and so forth are used without permission.

Needless to say, weaponizing sex, and using biochemistry for Terror Attacks, even in the very buckle of the bible belt are Crimes Against Humanity, so don't try this at home.

;

GABAa Labs (RTP)

Dr. Hull was just closing up, when he noticed the neuro-chemistry lab was still active.  By the lights, but swiping his card, and inputting his code, he opened the door to see a lone figure, across the room.  Bent over a workbench.  Setting down his steaming cup of coffee, he came up behind her, and set it down.

"How long have you been working here?  I haven't noticed how that lab coat flatters your figure from behind, and.  Snh,"  Feeling up the small of her back  "Have you done something with your hair?"

"Doctor Hull!"  Her voice slightly muffled by the paper mask over her face, "You're a married man."  Looking down at his ring finger, on her shoulder, but moving down.  "It's bad enough that you pay me like an intern, but."

"You can call me Theo."  His other hand pulled down her mask.  Even as the first flattened the front of the protective garment over the side of her chest, and gently cupped the womanly swell hidden underneath.

"Snh?  Hhuh!  Yes, I dyed it to cover the premature grey."  She blinked, and shook her head.  "14 years, 3 months, and."  Her eyes went up, closing to recall, "eleven days."  Blinking.  "Nhm!  Something.  Is, stop that!"  His thumb gently rubbing the top of her breast, above the cup of her bra, so that the white barrier cotton slipped over the silky blouse underneath.  "This is having an affect on me, on us.  Hhuh!"

"Not an undesirable side effect."  Moving down and over to the centerline.  His fingers plucking out the translucent white buttons, to work his way down, allowed her to reach up, and replace the mask over her face.

"Snh, huh!  SHN HUH!"  Shaking her head, her hair over her back, and neck.  "Theo, STOP!"  She pushed him back, enough to get free, and flee the door to the hallway.  Only locked from the outside, the push bar unlatched it immediately, and she made it to the conditioned air of the rest of the complex.

He came out, eyes wide.  He looked crazed, and his hands up, shaking as he backed her, panting, and impassioned.  The bulge of an erection tenting out the front of his pants.  "No!"  She turned away.  "Please don't do this!  Get a hold of yourself!  Think of your wife, your children."  He blinked.  Raised his hands to his head and backed up.  Thinking, overcome with guilt, and thankfully the pressure in his boxers went down.  "Breathe.  I think there must have been some sort of interaction with something."  Feeling her hair, draped loose over the straps holding the filter paper over her mouth and nose.

"Oh no.  I'm sorry, what have I done?"

"Nothing, but.  I can't believe that you nearly sexually assaulted me, but it must have been under the influence of the compound."  

"What were you working on?"

"Compound 27B-14."

"Is that why you're wearing the filter mask?"

"Yes, I discovered the odor was pleasant, however it started to feel.  Addictively pleasant, after I had gotten home.  I started craving it, and I had to cover my nose to concentrate on work.  That's what I was trying to isolate, but."  Blinking, and blushing.  "This morning, when I did the coffee rinse.  That must be it, the interaction."  Remembering the cup of hot coffee.  

"It seemed to have a Truth Serum effect, as well as the.  Other affect."

"Don't worry," shaking her head.  "Now that I realize you're under the influence, I rescind the threat to report you for sexual harassment."

"That stuff is more powerful than Viagra!"  His mind whirled with the possibilities of the discovery, even as his mental faculties returned from the overwhelming sexual arousal.

"And QNB."  Remembering some testing she had done early in her career, as an Intern, and still a Graduate Student.  "I wasn't compelled to tell the truth, nor did the inhibition to think about some lie.  I, I wanted to tell the truth, and call you Theo to please you?  I have to close the lab, and get that coffee out of there.  What kind of coffee is it?"

"Indian Decafe, why?  Do you think it's important?"

"Well, that eliminates Caffeine as the reactive compound, but I'm going to have to narrow it down."

"Can you bring me a mask?  So I can help you, without the adverse affects?"

"Of course, wait out here."

[psiberzerker]

"HhuhHh!  Ngm!"  The newly promoted laboratory director had to stop.  "Hehn huh hahn!  Uh!"  Remove the dildos from her anal, and vaginal cavities to get up.  Out of bed, away from the temptation to stay for one more orgasm, and start work.

Stopping in her kitchen long enough to pour a cup, and return the carafe to the warmer, she went next to her home-office, and brought up the secure inter-office message server, to check her messages.

[Re: Theone(r) Human Trials.]

  "Of course."  Dr. Hull won't give up on the possible marketability of 3,5 Di-Thiophenol Quinic Acid.  Having registered the trademark on the name Theone® for the proprietary compound.  Scanning over the conversation, she hit Reply.

[I understand the pressure to go ahead with formal human trials, but the side affects, and colloidal aerosol nature, especially combined with the drug interactions suggest it's too dangerous.  The best case scenario is a pandemic of sexual assaults, unplanned pregnancies, and the spread of infectious diseases, due to the total loss of control when affected.  The worst case scenario  is that a man could wear the cologne into a coffee shop, and it could be used for Terror attacks, should it fall into the wrong hands.  Don't make me fight you on this, I will go to the board members to warn them of the possible lawsuits personally if I have to.  That is the reason for the refusal of funding, as I have to remind you, repeatedly.  The possible risks far outweigh the profits.  As much as the makers of Axe Body Spray would like think an aphrodesiac is something Men would want, I'm starting to suspect you may be suffering from longterm exposure, and are showing signs of Addiction to it.]

As undeniably I am.  Ever since my first orgasm, from just washing my hair.

[We would have to ban Coffee, at the very least to prevent the most powerful reaction.  Even by itself, need I remind you of the Canine experiment?  The females after inducing Estrus attacking, killing, and partially eating the males, who were too bent on sexual satisfaction to even fight back.  Fortunately, humans don't go into Estrus, however I believe that the Vomeronazal stimulation triggers a similar, possibly dormant reaction in humans.  Which is what the proposed Primate trials are supposed to uncover, but I must urge you to stop using it with your wife.  I'm happy for your sex life, truly I am, but it's too powerful, and makes people too weak.  We still don't understand the interaction with mammal neurochemistry, much less with environmental triggers, like 3,5-Di-caffeoylquinic acid.  There may be more, and the tendency for long-term exposure to increase the risk of Psychosis requires long-term study before rushing it to market.

Think of that, the possible social ramifications, before the short-term profit.  I implore you, before it's too late.]

"Huh!"  Rubbing her eyes, she hits Send, before she reconsiders, but the dreams are getting more intense.  She had thought herself past the childish fascination with comics, then something in the newfound libido seemed to dig up fantasies for her subconscious.  A fan of the Fantastic 4, she had pretended to be Invisible, and projecting Force Fields playing with her brother, and his friends.  Then forgotten that period of her life, focusing on her grades, Honor Roll, Valedictorian, and even forgone dating in college for her drive to become a Scientist.  Make a name for herself, even a Nobel Prize in chemistry, before settling on a career in Research.

Without regrets, until this Addiction.  Open, and honest with herself from the beginning that is what it is, but finally capable of thinking clearly enough to roll the plastic sexual substitutes out of her bedding.  Wash them, and bag the sheets for the laundry service, she has to think about the most fascinating, and potentially dangerous part of the project.  Now the focus of her life, becoming an Obsession, but the ramifications of how the compound, which her boss could not help but take credit for.  Name after himself, while making her do all the work.  All the Research while crediting her as an Assistant.  A byline on the paper, and no doubt a footnote in the history books when he gets the Nobel prize for cracking the code on Human Sex Pheromones.

"Huh!"  Shaking her head, she gets in the shower.  Her mind already working overtime.  Mentally correlating the disparity between the side affects on Males, and Females.  With only a sample size of 2, she can only truly examine the changes in her relationship with her boss.  Congratulations on the news.  The pregnancy, and discovery of Bondage.  Femdom, so broaden the sample size to 3.  The Eureka moment, reaching for the towel on the way to the bathroom door.

"I have to talk to Mrs. Hull!"

[psiberzerker]

"Thanks for meeting me."  The wife of Dr. Hull set down her cup of Latte, and joined the Researcher at a table, by the door.

"What's this about?"  She had said vague things about her marriage, pregnancy, and work, but the tone of her voice over the phone was alarming, to say the least.  She couldn't help feeling a little worried, but a sip of her milk cooled beverage helped a little.

"Our research."  The raven haired woman nodded, pursing her lips.

"What's that have to do with my child?"  Feeling her still flat abdomen, it had been only a couple months, but she had already begun looking at the latest fashions for Maternity wear, bracing herself for the biological changes to come, once again.  It had been years, over a decade and though delighted to bring another child into the world, this time it also brought up concerns from her doctor.  About her age, and discussions of someone to help.  A nanny perhaps, as her other children already have families of their own to take care of.  Already a grandmother, and thought barren, beyond peri-menopause, the relatively younger woman chose her words carefully, in public.

"He may have exposed you to something, we've been working on, which I know to have affected his behavior."

"Well, he has been.  A bit more passionate in bed."

"And submissive?"

"Yes, now that you mention it.  Which isn't to say that he was ever selfish, sexually.  It's just lately he's been becoming more preoccupied with my, satisfaction.  So, you're suggesting that his, second wind, may be caused by some drug he's taking?"

"I know it is, however I'm a little more concerned that he may have tested it, illegally on you as well."

"Oh!  Is there any chance that it may effect the baby?"

"I don't know, that's another concern.  It hasn't been tested on anyone before, much less on a pregnant woman, and if you don't mind me asking.  You are, somewhat older than him."

"I know, May-December romance, but."

"I don't mean to be rude, and I'm not judging you, I am a scientist.  First, and foremost, however the problem that has always plagued the discovery of human pheromones has been Control.  In an experimental sense, it's difficult to isolate the subtle effects of the pheromones from other factors, which has held back medical science for as long as we have been studying it.  Which has been centuries, honestly.  Along with the philosopher's stone, and immortality, a practical aphrodesiac has been a goal of Alchemy, long before the modern science of chemistry was even in it's infancy."

"There are a lot of myths about it."  The wife nodded, "I'm sorry, but I'm at a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to scientific method.  My husband is the expert in the family, while I've always taken a more maternal role."  Noticing the frown deepen almost to anger.  "I'm sorry if that sounds sexist."

"It sounds more like your husband talking, but I can handle the analysis.  All I need from your is subjective, and situational data."

"Such as?"

"Well, here's a questionaire I've been working on, detailing any changes you might have noticed, in you or your husband's behavior.  I know it's, private, and therefore can be embarrassing to discuss."

"Well, now that you mention it, that's one change that's been vexing me."

"Do tell?"

"Well, before all this started happening, we were.  Very private about sexual matters, but one of the improvements has been being more open about it."

"With each other."

"With, others.  Some of our friends."  Scanning the paper, something caught her eye.  "Why so many questions about coffee?"

"It appears to open up receptors, to make them more sensitive to pheromones as well as related compounds.  One of the first we discovered is a major volatile component in Coffee.  Specifically hot coffee."

"Yes, I.  Do you have a pen?"

"Yes, of course."  Handing one over from her jacket.

The wife began checking off questions in that particular section.  "Yes, now that you mention it, I have become more addicted?"

"Yes, caffeine is a stimulant."

"Honestly, I didn't even like coffee before, but I was so glad you wanted to meet me here."

"So, you developed a taste for it?"

"Huh!  Especially before sex.  Just the smell of it has become arousing, and we started having coffee parties.  Like wine tastings, only.  Well, my husband has always been a bit of a connoisseur."

"Swinging parties?"

"I think a more apt term would be orgies."

"I was afraid of that."  The glorified research assistant had her worst fears confirmed, that he has begun human testing without her.  Unfortunately, he's not a Researcher.  He's an Executive, with degrees in Chemical Engineering, but little practical experience, besides running a laboratory for a number of pharmaceutical, and cosmetic companies.  Including the makers of Axe Body Spray.

"One more question."  The researcher lifted her hat, and pulled down a Domino mask.  With one hand, settling the nose plugs into her nostrils, with the other she pinched the cap on a vial, and turned it on the threads.  "Does this smell at all familiar?"

Dropping it, it rolled across the table, spilling a colorless fluid, then tumbling from the edge.  She stood up, unbuttoning the hooded coat over a corseted bodice, lose knee skirt, thigh high stalkings, and high heeled boots.

Let's see how the effects of long-term exposure differ from people who haven't been exposed, but are addicted to coffee, and already have it in their system.  Also, she needs funding, for her own lab, now that the results of her research have already fallen into the wrong hands, for long enough.

She hadn't given any serious consequences to the Human costs, the trauma, and terror it would spread.  Not since the subtle changes in her own emotions, something she's never been able to put her fingers on, and measure like a pulse.  The unquantifiable, all she could feel any more was the need for more Data.

;

[psiberzerker]

The immediate affect came from the next table.  "Don't look at her," stuffing the crumpled questionnaire into her purse, as the jealous brunch date cowed the young man across the table with a slap.

"Sorry."

Behind me, the chemical attacker heard her reluctant accomplice speak up.  "Look at me."  Standing, she glanced back, making her way to the barista station. 

Another slap, "Don't look at her, you're going out with me, remember?"

"I'm sorry."

She'd taken the scarf, loosely hanging from under her collar, and pulled it over her face, and plucked hairpins from her gray streaked ginger waves to shake them out over her shoulders.  Spilling out in waves of salt, and Paprika.

"Hm!"  I need more data.  Human Testing is being conducted with, or without me, but with a step, she seizes the young man by the mouth. 

"Uh!" even as the staff ran out, in green logo aprons to at least see what the commotion was.

"Don't touch him!"  The jealous girlfriend raising to a shrill rage.

Confirmed, the caffenoid enhances the Violent sexual aspects in females, while inhibiting males as arousal overcomes their reason, and it spreads like wildfire.  At the register, the neophyte super-criminal pulled a paper bag from the stack, and shook it out by a stiff twine handle in my glove, to prevent leaving fingerprints. 

"Ladies!  You don't have to fight over me.  She means nothing to me, i don't even know her.  The way i do you, as little as i've learned so far only makes me love you even more."

"OMG," her hands over her mouth, even as the chair tipped over from him kneeling,

"I'm sorry i don't have a ring to offer you yet, but will you marry me?"

"Wow," two more guys, flanking Mrs. Hull.  Having already dropped her jacket, and pulled out the top buttons, to bounce off of the tables to the floor.  "I've never seen such a hot cougar."

"Yeah, she's such a MILF!"  The steam forced through powder ground roasted beans saturated the air, even before the second register drawer was emptied into my stolen bag.  The staff were pulling the strings from their aprons, untucking tops, and feeling the men's arms.

Mrs Hull turned, to me.  Winked, though I couldn't see her grin through the scarf. 

"I'm sure you boys don't mind sharing, with these lovely girls, do you?"

Throwing back the board from the counter to the pastry case, nobody even looked back, nor even reacted to it falling down, with a loud slap.

"No."

"Oh no, not at all."

"Go on." she patted their broad shoulders as the masked bandita reached the door.  "Down, on your knees."  Throwing her blouse aside, the post-geriatric sex addict reached up topless save for her bra to pull the tails tight behind her head, and knot the improvised mask over her hair.

One barista already hiking up her skirt, and pulling her underpants down with the other hand.  Even as the other bent, dropping her pants and underwear at the same time.

"Why don't you show them how eager you are to please?"  Not even muffled by the satiny silk.

Even without the chemical running through my system, all traces attenuated by a self imposed fast, I have to force myself to let the door close behind me.  Keep my head down, swimming almost dizzy with the caffeine inhaled from the very air.

As I expected, longterm exposure had already conditioned me to respond, as it had in the control group.  The Pavlov group, exposed only to the steam from a tray of fresh brewed decaf.  The Bitches taking their satisfaction, as if in heat, then turning to fall on the males.  Ravenous, enraged, and even starting to devour them literally before they could be tranquilized.

"Huh!  Huh!  Huh!"  In the alley, she pulled off her hat, mask, and covered her hair with her hood.  Cut through to the back parking lot, and threw her ill gotten gains in the passenger seat before making her escape.

That was just a test-run, which I'll call a success, but I had to laugh.  Patting the larger vial, down the front of her bodice, before crossing the jacket over it.  Laughing to herself, all the way to the bank.  Where as usual, they have a large dispenser of complimentary coffee for the customers, right by the door.  It shouldn't take long for the situation at the coffee shop to attract the attention of all the police in the area, so she turned on her scanner, to listen on the way across town.

Of course, in females one of the strongest tertiary affects is Psychosis, and I have to admit, I'm not immune.  It hasn't gone away with the temporary affects of the pheromone enhancer, and I can only hope this self aware hyper-sanity isn't diminished over time.  So far, it has only opened my eyes, shown me what I have to do, and eliminated the emotional doubts that have always inhibited me from deciding to take action.

To get what I want, right now I'm already producing results I can analyze later.  After the bank, I think I'll hit the mall.  I need a new wardrobe.

[psiberzerker]

"The RTPFD say they will get the chemical fire contained, but advise to avoid the area surrounding, and downwind of the Gamble/Astra Bio-Analytic Associates campus until it is extinguished.  Seek medical attention if you or anyone around you experiences any of the following symptoms of Benzene exposure."

Displayed onscreen.

"In other news, the hostage situation at Cup A Joe, and the recent robbery of BB&T appear to be connected.  The FBI have released a statement, that this woman."



"May have planned the cafe attack as a test run for a new Nerve Agent.  A sample was recovered from the scene."  Censored footage of half naked females, being led away in cuffs, black bands over faces, and blurring over the front of the torso area providing some censorship for Live broadcast.  "Possible accomplices are currently being questionioned, but a police spokesman has come forward with this official statement:"

"We've barely begun the investigation, which is ongoing.  However, we must warn people that both scenes are chaotic, with acutely sexual behavior in the affected.  The toxin appears to be a gas, and may be delivered in Coffee, though we haven't gotten results back from the crime lab.  So, if you encounter any uncharacteristically promiscuous, or exhibitionistic behavior, we must advise you steer clear, and avoid the area.  Alert authorities, and it may be a good idea to avoid caffeine, or places to get coffee, until we can determine the link, if any.

Also, we've identified a Person of Interest, at both scenes.  If you see her, or anyone dressed like her, we advise you to stay away, do not approach, and be aware of any of the uncharacteristic sexual behaviors, or feelings that seem out of control.  She is considered a Terrorist, may be Politically motivated,"  Looking down to read something from the podium "and appears to be attacking targets significant to Consumerism, or Financial Motives.  We only have a preliminary profile from the FBI, but they will be joining us ASAP to aid in the investigation.  She is armed with Chemical Weapons, and should be considered extremely dangerous."

[psiberzerker]

A shadow passes by the window, then stops.  Reaches the door with a step, and a DING!

The guy behind the counter automatically asks, "Can I help you?" then looks up from his catalog.  Stops, halfway flipping to the next page, and recognizes her instantly from the news.

Keeping her head, and voice low, the fugitive mentions something about needing some new clothes.

"That Carmen Sandiego look not working for you?" he flips shut the fetish catalog, and comes around the counter.

"How much is this?"  



"Price's on it."  He checks the tag.  The black trench coat having the benefit of snaps, instead of buttons, and not appearing in the news.

"I noticed, a lot of girls, mostly college girls are starting to emulate your style, from the news."

"You don't say.  Fetish shoppe?"  She raises the brim to look around at the rest of the selection.  Rubber, Vynil, Leather, with bright shiny rings, buckles, some ball-gags hnging from a tasteful display with medical restraint cuffs.

He nodded, "Yeah, I get a lot of requests for that hat."  Looking up.  "Sex terrorists, the FBI warning guys not to approach women dressed like that, guys hitting on women, dressed."  Exactly like that.  Same hat, not new, not bought to look like the photos.  "You hear they caught that guy?  WRAL called him, Huh, Mr. Coffee."  The same crease on one side from the dome to the rim, the same hat.  On the same head, she must have bleached her tips a dirty blonde.  Not much of a disguise.

"Yes yes, I heard he turned himself in."

"Doctor Leo Hall."

"Theo Hull.  You mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"Are you a homosexual?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah.  You mind if I ask you a personal question?"  Are you a terrorist?

"Yes, I do."  Turning back to unbuckle the belt from the mannequin.  

"You're not a fetishist, are you?"

"Huh!  I don't even know any more."  Same outfit underneath the totally not a terrorist in disguise coat, brand new.  Think she picked that up at Altar'd in Crabtree.  Pulling it on.  

"You don't have anywhere to go, do you?"  Finally looking up, to see her eyes, wide in surprise, and paranoia.  Looking around, and reaching in her purse.  "Hey, hey.  It's all right, I'm not going to call the joint taskforce."

"There's a joint taskforce now?"

"Yeah, FBI, DEA, local PDs."

"It's not a drug."

"What is it?"

"How much do you know about biochemistry?"

"Next to nothing."

"About exactly as much as the rest of the human race."  Leaning over the counter.  "You know," pulling out a billfold, and unsnapping it, the tag dangled from a little string as she pulled out cash.  Large bills, more stuffed inside still in the bank bands.  "I haven't tested it on any homosexual males."

"So, you are a lesbian?"

"I am a scientist, that's all."

"And a bank robber."

"Well?  I needed the money."  Leaning back, and taking a deep breath, she turns around with a weary sigh.  "Huh!"  Shaking her head at herself.  "I'm asexual, or I was.  For the longest time, I poured myself into my work.  So much so, my sacrifices.  With nothing to show for it."

"Uh," feeling ignored.  "So, that's.  Wh?  I don't understand."

"How could you?  I don't even understand.  It's the drug, it's effects on my, I.  I don't know what it's doing to me, but no."  Shaking her head, "I have no desire for women.  I never had any for men, either.  It's a distraction, and it's beginning to compromise my objectivity.  I'm becoming emotional, and impulsive.  It's not like me, at all.  What I've done, I didn't intend to rob those people, and then when I did, I.  No, no of course I prepared for it.  I had been thinking about it for quite some time, ever since I discovered the secondary properties, and interactions.  I was a scientist, and now, I'm turning into an addict."

"I'm a sex addict myself.  I know some people, a group that can help you."

"No, it wasn't the sex.  I still haven't had, sex.  With anyone."

"You're a virgin?"

"Virginity is a construct, an ideal, not a biological condition.  No, it wasn't the sex, it was the drug, but that just lowered my inhibition, and gave me a taste of Power!"  Reaching up, to curl her fingers into a claw of black polished nails, beveled back from the quick.  Then shaking it, as if the skull of Yorik.    Turning around, "Who are you calling?"

"Hang on.  Hi, I'm going to have to close up early.  Yeah, something's come up, and business is dead anyway.  I made some sales though.   Mhm?  Yeah, I'll just lockup, and you can reopen when you come in.  It's a bit of an emergency."  Hang up.

"Whehhhh!"  She took another breath, in through her nose.  "Snhhhh!  Whewwww!"

"You all right?"

"No."

"I want to help you."

"This isn't a normal addiction."

"No, not with that.  I want to help you, with your supervilliany."

"What?  Oh, hahahah!  Very funny.  I'm not."  She stopped, saw the look on his face.  "Really, am I?"

"Well, you're a scientist, and a doctor?"

"Neuropsychology, yes."

"Look at the symptoms."  He counted them off, "Mad scientist, Monologuing, Fashion sense."

"Oh, I just need this.  I told you, I'm not a fetishist, there's nothing sexual about it."

"Gay man?"  Patting his chest proudly.  "Trust me, sweety.  You trying not to look like a supervillain just made you look more like a supervillain, trying not to look like a supervillain.  I spotted you before you even came in the store, and there's literally droves of young women emulating you.  They can't pull it off, because it's just a look for them.  A fad, this."  Pointing, up, and down, "This isn't fashion for you.  It's who you are, and I want to help."

"How could you possibly know who I am, when I don't even know.  What's becoming of me?  Why would you want to help me?  They're calling me a terrorist!"

"Gay man?  Grew up in North Carolina."  Turning the sign from Closed to Open, and locking the door, he pulled the blinds over the non-display window.  "Now, let's see what we can find you to wear, before my partner comes in, and finds you."

Pulling out his phone, he starts with an Image search.  Coming around his shoulder, she looks down, to watch.  Him type in Google:

[Superia]

"Who's that?"

"It's a long story.  [Images]



"Don't worry, you'll love her."  Half pawing then letting it limp wristedly, without touching her.  "You have a lot in common."

"What I need is a lab, and funding.  So, I don't have to do any more robberies."

"I might know someone," on the fetish scene, "That knows someone..."

[psiberzerker]

Author

BGM

Surveying his party from the stage, Master Wilkes put his leg down, and stood.  The tails of his coat swinging out around his skin-tight pants, and settling to a stylish drape.  He strode purposely to meet the couple, walking up to the stairs.

"I'm going to go mingle."  The vinyl nun wandered off, but the Master never turned away from the woman.  Encased in grey latex, only her eyes, and naturally colored lips exposed.  

Some sort of tubing looped back over her ears, and underneath her nose.  "How do you like My party?"  She looked around, turning on her heels.  Not high heels, nor even shoes, just an unbroken layer of thick rubber, that coated everything else, except the ports to see, breathe, and talk.  

Nodding, "I don't know whether to take it as a fashion show, or a sex party, before the action has begun."  She turned back, looking up.  "You could say that I'm new to the scene."

"You get into it with Faith?"

"No, we're just partners."  Offering his hand, she accepted it, enough to step up onstage with him.  Looking down, the expression in her eyes unreadable.  Not pleased, but the frown of her mouth.  

He looked down again, still surprised she's not wearing any heels.  "How tall are you?"

"One hundred ninety eight centimeters."

"That's what, six and a half feet?"

"Yes."  Retaking his seat, he couldn't help but notice the flat front of her crotch.  As anatomically incorrect as a doll, but at the same time none of the characteristic bulge one might expect of say a drag queen, or "Transgender?"

"No."  Possibly post-op.  Turning to watch the party, and pulling a pack of Saratoga Menthol 120 slims to light one.  "Huh!"

"Who made that body suit?"

"He did?"  Pointing, then curling her fingers, so the cigarette once more stood up toward the rafters.  "This used to be a tobacco warehouse?"

"Still is, in the harvest season.  Liggett and Meyers rents them out, when they're empty."  She nodded.  "How do you take it off?"  Seamless, no zipper in the front, back, crotch, or anywhere, just featureless matte grey.

"Huh!  With shears when we get home."

"I thought Faith was gay."  She nodded.  "How do you have sex?"

"I don't."  Starting to pick up a pattern, in her responses.  "It's not that sort of partnership."

"So, what brings you to a sex party?"

"I study sex.  Professionally, that is my passion.  However, it isn't erotic, for me.  Master, that denotes a Dominant?"

"Sadist.  Pain play mostly, but there's some power exchange in it as well.  Yes."

"You torture women?"

"Only if they beg for it.  I'm going to put on a little demonstration later, once the guests get settled, and any sexual tension out of the way."

"They don't seem to react, the way normal humans do."  To herself, half forgetting he's there, taking mental notes out loud, rather than getting something to write them down.  Turning back, "Oh, you don't feel anything.  Unusual?"

He shook his head, "Why, should I?"

"Yes.  You have been exposed to a powerful nerve agent.  You've heard of the terror attacks that happened, a few months ago?"

"You?  You're not serious."

"Yes.  I am."

"You're taking credit for them?  They caught the guy, I talked to him myself."

"Oh?  What did he say?"

"Quite a bit, actually.  Nothing I can go into, for legal reasons, but."  Narrowing his eyes.  "He did have an accomplice, we were never able to identify."

"I know."  Turning back, to watch the party.  She crosses her arms, to cover slipping her fingers into her purse.  Pulling a small vial out, with a glance to check it's color, and pinch the top.  Unscrew it, and dose a fingertip, just in case.  "Fetishists.  Seem to be resistant to immune, much like the acute affect at the church.  Only in reverse, instead of inhibition reinforcing the release, the indulgence of inhibitions seems to counter, if not cancel out the affect."  Rubbing the fingertip to spread it around the ball of her thumb.

"You tried to pull something like that here, in My club?"  He grabbed her, turned her around, and forced her to look at him.  Not surprising, from the subtle clues.  Sitting in a throne, onstage, the Master surveying his court from the best place to do so.  To watch the party unfold, also at the center of attention.  

"Yes."  Picking him up, in both hands, she has to step forward.  "Uhn!"  Set him up against the wall, right next to the Throne, and touch his exposed neck.

"What, thuh!"  He relaxes, as she massages the paralytic over his pulse.  "Hhow?"  His grip falling slack from the impenetrable latex coating on her forearms.

"Chemistry.  Bio-chemistry."  Turning.  "Uhn!"  She set him back down, on his throne.  Let go, and turned, to bend at the knees and waist, cross her legs in his lap, and settle her arm across his shoulders.  "I didn't have anyone else to experiment on."  She shrugged, "I'm sure you'd like to hear all about it."  

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Uh, fine?  She was just giving me a little demonstration of her strength."

"We're having a private conversation."

"Yes, leave us."  They obeyed.  

"My first full project was studying the growth of great apes.  Other than humans."

"You're as strong as a gorilla?"

"Strength does not scale that way.  Proportionately, my muscle density would be comparable to that of a leopardess, or orangutan."

"Would those growth hormones work on anyone else?"

"Yes.  I would have to adjust them, to customize them for the individual, of course."

"I think, there's some people you have to meet."

"Oh?  Do tell."

"We also run some other performances.  Illegal performances, your partner, Dr. Hull."

"He's not my partner.  He was never my partner, now you will tell Me about these illegal performances."

"Sports.  Bloodsports, for money, and betting.  Fights, races, competitive orgies, and also some medical experiments."

"Medical experiments require some sort of lab, and test subjects."

"Of course."  He couldn't nod, but he could swallow.

"Huh!  Well, when the inquisition serum wears off, you're going to have to make some calls for Me.  Mona, call me Mona."

"Yes, Mona.  Inquisition serum?"  That sounds like it might have possibilities.

"Yes, it is derived from the formula I developed to restore my objectivity.  That is why I can not lie."

;

[psiberzerker]

"Welcome back."  She sat next to me.

"I'm not staying."  Shaking my head, I have to think about Her, and what she feels about this.  Nothing, these are experiments in human sexuality, which She doesn't understand.  So, She's trying to understand, through human experimentation.

Like last night.  "Huh!"    Experiments, not terrorist attacks, to her.  

"Well, it's just nice to see you here, again."

"Why don't you all get out your bibles, or phones, and bring up the Gospel according to John.  Chapter 10, verse 10.  And Jesus said, 'The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.  I have come that they may have life, and live it to the full.'  Now, the thief in this case, is of course the Devil.  Satan comes only to kill, and destroy.  Steal the Word of God that's been sown in your hearts."

"Uh!"  

"You look nice."

Halley, I didn't leave because of her.  Halleluia Covington.  Christian, Single, Heterosexual of course.

"And in it's place, he brings temptation.  Decadence, the sins of homosexuals, and other blasphemies against creation."  He's already going off, when hasn't even been exposed yet, or at least I don't think I have any, residue on my clothes.  The polyester jacket making me itch, and sweat through my jacket, and remembering this, discomfort.  Believing it was the fires of hellfire, licking at my armpits.  Pulling out a cigarette, and lighting up in church.  "What in the hell do you think you're doing, son?"

"Hn," standing up, the smoke curls from my nose.  Slowly, and I let the mouthful roll out, to French inhale.  "Snh?"

"Come up here, son, look at this.  Sinner amongst us, take a good look."  It's not an antidote, from what she told me, it just blocks the receptors in the nose.  She started taking Snuff, just to prevent being overcome by the effects of the chemical I'd spilled in my lap, but looking back.  

"Halley?  What do you think you're doing?"  Of course, she was affected first by proximity to me.  The effects spreading out through the rows of chairs.  Turning in front of the podium.  The young single heterosexual Christian girl.  Legally a woman, must be 18, or 19 now.  Unbuttoning her modest blouse, then giving up after 3, and pulling it off.  Coming forward, up the aisles, the men locked on, and following her bra like sunflowers.

"Giving in to temptation."  Her only answer.

"Harlots, and faggots!  The sins that brought down Sodom, and Gammorah!  I cast you out, Satan.  Omoto tokee so la ti."

"Oh, give it up, you fucking child molester!"  The congregation, first the men rising from their seats.  Erections tenting out their pants, the ones that weren't already out, exposed, and the women sweating.  The wave of pheromones feeding back, like the squeal of a microphone.  First the men, aroused by her exposure, then the women aroused by the men, and I take another drag.

"Hypocrite!"  I turned on him.  "Repent you fucking sinner.  On your knees."

"Oh god!"

"You think He doesn't know, what you did to me?  You think He accepts your repentance, and forgives you?"

"No!"  

"Shut up.  You've said enough, lecturing on debauchery?  Well, your judgement is at hand."  On his forehead, "Now, your congregation can see you." Unzipping my dress pants with the other.  "What you truly are, and why you speak out so vehemently against the temptations of the flesh."

"Awlghugm!  Mhn, ugh gugugugk!"

"I believe that Jesus Christ said it best:  Judge not, sinner.  Lest ye be judged!"

;

'Romona (F Drug Voyeur)

I brought it up, online.  Eagle's Nest Christian Fellowship, of course the Pastor is the kind of man to broadcast his sermons.  Online, live feed, but I can't be there.  It interferes with my objectivity, ironically like the Insulation suit.

Latex, poured directly onto my body, and the.  Reaction that came from that. It's not a fetish, I'm beginning to understand my feelings better, now that my eyes have been open to what I am becoming.

A "Sociopath."  However, with this understanding, I can empathize with Larry Whitfield.  The charismatic preacher, standing up on a stage, surrounded by steps for them to knees around him.  Listen to His word, the word of God, so he says, but that's just how he justifies his Authority.  "Narcissist."

In a word, Power.  It's not the drug, either.  "Snh!"  Dipping my pinky nail back in the tin of deep black powder.  "Snh?  Nk!  Nchewh!"  I tested my blood this morning, endured the headache of caffeine withdrawl so that I could witness this objectively, "Damnit!"  It's not working.

It's not hot, in here.  Even in the clingy rubbery layer against my skin, that's me.  Not just me, but the cameraman.  Turning to track the young Christian girl, exposing herself, and walking up between the rows.  The affect spreading.  Turn to hit [Alt Tab] and type in my notes.

[100% Affective]

Returning to the feed, shaking now.  Handheld, with the rhythm of the cameraman.  Setting it down, but now the other men.  Rising, erect, exposing themselves, and the immediate reaction of the woman.

"Snh!"  He sniffed himself, last night.  Under his arms, when I told him the areas with the greatest scent load.  Anywhere we have hair, but then his pubic fur.  He doesn't have to smell me, if he can smell himself, that's enough to feedback so that the more aroused he gets, the more pheromones there are to arouse him...  Right in front of my nose, and his phallus lodged deep in my throat.

"Damn it!"  I'm missing it.  I'd tried pornography, and gave up on it.  0 affect, on me, but this is different.  I know what's causing it, and seeing her there.

"Giving in to temptation."  Loud enough to be picked up from the microphones onstage, hanging over it for the Choir, seated next to it, and the rustle of fabric.  Disrobing frantically, the women exposing themselves now.  Stripping to the waist, frantic tearing, and buttons fly off.  Hair seized in strong hands made weak by the influence.

My influence, I understand her.  "Haley," he called her.  From the old English I believe.  The wooded valley, bending to pull up her skirt, and slip, push down her underwear.  The cameraman stepping in front of it, set down, but still aimed right at her.  Half naked, his buttocks, going to her.  Leaned back on the steps, right in front of the Podium.  The preacher kneeling in front of My accomplish, giving in to temptation.  Accepting his penance, James stripping himself naked to show off his body.

Lean, muscular, and shaved bare.  Like the Body of Christ save for the wound in his side, now his voice, monologuing.  Drowned out for the moans of the congregation and the squeals of ecstasy from the girl, losing her virginity to the cameraman.

It's supposed to insulate me, and I find another effect of the latex bodysuit is like a full body condom.  Covering everything except my face, remembering the thick liquid covering me, and the lubricant so I can remove it, but now it's keeping my fingers out of me.  The fluids running down like sweat to pull in the crevasse between my buttocks, but I can pinch it in my nails.

"Nghm!"  overwhelmed not just with the emotive affect, but my mind filled with images of last night.  My first experiences of sex, firsthand, at the hands of a gay man.  Aroused by his own pheromones, and finally feeling what others must.  Overcome by lust, the entire converted warehouse descending into an orgy of debaucheries.  Even incest, I could not help but notice the striking resemblance between another girl, and her father, standing over her, submitting to his erection, mouth wide open, and his pants dropped o release the sweat built up in his undershorts.  Collected in the fragrant patch of his hairs.

And the poster.  "Uhn!"  I have to grab the Hitachi.  "NHMNHNHNHN!"  There, that's enough stimulation, but even with my eyes closed, the glance imprinted the image on my visual cortex.

[Legends Cabaret is proud to present:
Faith D. Vinyl!  For one night only.
18+ Half price drinks for ladies]

"NGAUHM!"

Him, in full drag, coated in vinyl from head to toe.  Black and white, a Nun with a shining silver cross.

"NAAAAHHHHH!"

There.  "Hhihn ihn!  Heh, huh.  Snh?  HhuhHhH!"  Turn off the vibe, and smoke a cigarette.  It helps me think.  The post orgasmic satisfaction clearing my head so I can run it back.

What a data set!  There's so much to analyze, but now I'm free!  Free from being buried, hidden in the lab while that man takes all the credit.  All the profit for all of my hard work, now that the lab itself is nothing but a blackened crater.  I wonder, why he did that.  I didn't, by process of elimination, the only other one who knew about the research.  Took credit for it, of course.  Then turned himself in, but I'll forgo the red or yellow lines on the grey Latex.  The circle, the line down crossed, then the arrow.  The cross of Venus over the spear of Mars pointing down between her legs.

I don't hate men, nor do I want to Dominate them, but I'm beginning to understand sexual motivation.  "Power corrupts..."  I know that all too well now, I'll stick with Grey.  It's neutral, and if Equality comes from this so be it, but they have too much power.  He did, before he turned himself in for the arson, to destroy the lab where I created the nerve agent for him, and of course took credit for my work.

I'm free, not even a suspect, I just need to create a new lab.  First, to find other complimentary compounds, seem to be addictive ones, like Coffee, and Tobacco.

Now that I know what I am, Who I have become.

"Pheromona."  As good a name as any.

;

[psiberzerker]

Trigger Warning:  Seriously, the most extreme thing a whole bunch of co-escalating men could come up with to one-up each other. 

;

She had learned a lot, in her first encounter with the underground sex clubs.  First of all, not clubs in the sense of a nightclub, but a collection of wealthy, and powerful members.  Indulging their most depraved desires, together.  Sharing in them, and gaining inspiration from each other to escalate to ever sicker abuses.  First and foremost, Pheromona considers herself a Scientist.  Studying these activities, and what drive men to commit them.  Without Understanding, knowing full well that they are irrational.  She had reached a sort of Zen, where she's able to give up logical comprehension, and just witness them.  First came a sadistic necrophiliac, and his victim.

A child, kidnapped and brought bound, but not drugged.  Gagged, shivering, and her large green eyes wide in horror.  Carried by the elbows by 2 large men, naked except for the tape that covered her mouth, and lashed her wrists to her knees.  Molested, openly, to anyone who would wave them over.  Struggling, but unable to stop the hands from groping her buttocks, thighs, and crotch.  Shaking her head, so her dirty blonde curls whipped around her shoulders, and squealing from the rough fingers in her bloody cunt, her tight anus, then forced down onto laps.

Double penetrated, held up between 2 men, then one, while the other filled her with lustful fluids only to be replaced by another, and another, until there were no more who wished it.  All satisfied, save for the only woman, and the man who had brought her.  Even her porters had ejaculated into her brutally, and tucked their flaccid phallae back into black rip-stop cargo pants to button the flies back over them.  Then, she was strangled.  Slowly, sadistically, her owner bent over between her bound limbs to force his face into her eyes.  Wide, staring off into god knows what, but the last thing in her bloodshot eyes, full of burst capillaries was Him.  Finally, her struggles, and suffering ended.  She fell limp, and he released her to undo his pants. 

Still flaccid, he gave it a couple pumps, while his assistants stepped forward with large knives.  He thanked them, and locked the distinctive guards together to shear the thin broad short blades against each other, and cut through her dead throat.  Without a pulse, even the arterial blood seeped, but seemingly with every drop, more pumped into his moderate sized penis until it throbbed between their legs.  On the floor, surrounded, the dark room echoing with cheers run together into a white noise until finally the vertebrae separated, and he dropped the bespoke cutlery above her shoulders in the growing pool of blood.  Sitting back with some satisfaction, he mounted her dis-articulated head, and pulled the tape to expose his bloody glans in the back of her throat.

The cheers died down to excited breathing, so that all could hear his excited cries.  "NGAUH!"  the juice of his climax spurting from between her teeth, and even running out, tinged pink from the blood, and the cheering resumed.  Some men even recovered, and propped the corpse up on it's knees, to necrophile the stump, while another pushed it onto the first from behind.

"Huh!"  Sitting back, and watching all this, the researcher thought to regret chemically suppressing all of her emotions for objectivity, but of course was incapable of caring.  It's a dead body.  Meat, organs, and bones.  The physical remnants of a potential human being.  Literally cut down before she reached the age of ten, she couldn't even laugh at the mental pun.  Unfortunately, she needs men such as these for Funding.  She has research to do, but if they're trying to impress her, or make her afraid, she's not even sorry to inform them that it's far too late for that.  If anything, she may gain insight into what drives men to do such things as a side effect, but for now.

She just needs the funding to start a private a lab, and human subjects to experiment on.  There isn't really any where else to seek them.

[psiberzerker]

"So," he stepped from the shower, and accepted a towel from one of his men.  "What'd you think of My little show?"  Grinning, he toweled his hair first.  As she arrived, in a floppy black hat, trench coat belted over her large broad figure, and some sort of hood covering her head.  Her legs, down to the toes bound together into a grey mitten, almost pointed to one side, she put her leg up.

"It is a lot to process."  Annoyingly calm, no expression on her bare face, exposed except for a little holding it to her chin.

"So, what can I do you for?"

"I would think that you would be more interested in what I can do."

"My dad told me you're super strong, and your.  Size is from growth hormones?"  Tucking the towel around his waist, his lackey silently held the door, then closed it as she followed him.  In the back ground, only truly interested in her as a security threat, but noticing his partner in the dressing room.  Armed as well as him, to help in case she got violent, but also noticing her shear size.

6'6", and at least 185 pounds, just sizing her up by eye.  Also used to reading people, which is nagging both of them, because they get nothing from her.  Like trying to read a robot.  With the hourglass figure, and swollen chest of a Gynoid, rather than an Android, but discussing "Human experimentation."  She nodded, "You would most likely be interested in Performance."

"Strength.  Not really interested in producing super women like yourself, but if your growth hormones would work on men, without any undesirable side effects."

"Such as?"

"You know, you seen what we do here, so they have to be able to perform sexually, as well.  So, no impotence, bitch tits."

No reaction.  Just a nod to cut him off.  "Of course, but as Experimental treatments, there are no promises when it comes to such things as Side Effects.  However, you would also be interested in Sexual enhancements?"

"Like Viagra,"  Nodding, "Keeping it up after I get off."

"Enhanced pleasure, forcing arousal in unwilling females, multiple orgasms, stimulating pain, fear, or inhibiting these and remorse."

"You can do that?"

"Humans are biochemical.  Whatever you may believe about the soul, or the spirit, everything.  Every thought, emotion, and sensation is ultimately chemical, and can be controlled chemically, yes.  If you want a remorseless killing machine, I can make anyone, as utterly unfeeling as myself."

"How?"

"It is extremely complex, but the simplest answer is receptors.  These are what allows cells -for instance a neuron- to receive, and release any chemical.  For example, the neurotransmitters that carry pain signals.  They can be blocked, enhanced, even stimulated to induce agonizing pain, with no real stimulus."

He laughed.  "Where's the fun in that?"  Shaking his head, and buttoning up a white collar shirt.  Folded, pressed, and hung, then handed to him by his personal body guards.  "I know a cold heartless bitch like yourself might find it hard to believe, but some men actually enjoy the sensation of torturing an innocent little girl until she screams herself hoarse."

"Believe?  Yes.  Understand?"  She shook her head.  "I don't have to understand.  All I need to know is what you want.  I can't help you attain it without that datum."

Rubbing his chin.  "No, I don't need that."  One of his guards turned back, folding a straight razor, and tucking a shaving brush back into a cup.  "Cold blooded killers, that can't feel pain?  I could probably use a couple of those.  So, why don't you guys show her to the car, and take her to the labs?"

They nodded, and one of them got the door.  "I'll need some slaves to experiment on first.  Males, you don't mind Dying in the process.  To avoid any side effects in the finished products, of course."

"Of course.  I'll call the kidnapping teams right away.  Now, kindly fuck off."

"Yes, of course."

[psiberzerker]

"So," as the door closed behind one, "Are you two mute, or do you let your boss do all the talking?"

"We can talk,"  One started, so the other one could finish:

"But just so you know, there's only so much we can tell you."

"Well, start with yourselves.  You're both fighters, combat trained?"

"Of course.  Ex-military."

"I was a cop."

"Good, so I'd like to discuss what you can do for me, in return."

"We're not authorized to give you anything."

"Look."  Stopping to turn around.  "I am not motivated by money.  I need things, and I provide them.  So, in return for your enhancements, I am going to require some training, and practice."

"How to fight?"

"Yes,"  Turning back, they kept pace.  Part of the job, "Before my growth, I was basically protected, and after that, I have never truly been in a fight.  I have not needed to, however this environment is one of Violence.  I have no problem with violence."

"So, how strong are you exactly?"

"Huh."  Shaking her hat, "I suppose the answer depends on how you measure strength."

"How much can you lift?"

"Off the ground?  Three quarters of a ton.  In English tons, one thousand five hundred pounds."

"Really?  Wait, I'm about 350."

"Yeah, me too.  Counting the gear and armor.  So, we'd be about half that."

"Would you like a demonstration?"

"Yeah."

"Sure, that'd be fun."

"Huh, hold still."  Bending her knees, she just slips her arms around their backs, and grips them under the shoulders.  "Wh."  Straightens up, and starts walking.  "Which car?"

"Hahaha, you can put us down."

She shrugs first, then bends her knees.

"You could really carry, two more guys like us?"

"Not in any practical way.  I only have 2 arms."

"You want to drive?"

"Sure, why not?"  Walking around the front side, the other held the door for her, and got in back. 

"I never even imagined a girl, as big, and strong as you before."

"Snh."  She shook her head, took off the hat to reveal the hood, completely covering everything except her face.  "Can you unlock the windows?"

"Sure."  She pushed the button to crack her's.  "When I said I was unfeeling, that includes sex.  Also, you couldn't even rape me if you tried, and you may want to breathe through your nose, as little as possible."

"Why?"

"So, you don't have a panic attack.  Another side effect of the process, I had to develop on myself is that I sweat fear.  That is why I have to coat myself, it appears to be a defense mechanism, but let me know if you feel any irrational uneasiness, or."

"Yeah, a little.  That's caused by your sweat?"

"It's not real."  Nodding, "Fear, it appears to be an old pheromone we no longer produce, because we developed vocal communication.  It is still produced in social apes, so that if one, for example Chimpanzees, or Bonobos feels threatened, than the entire troop can react to it."

His eyes wide, and heart beating out of control, his eyes flash back and forth rapidly.  "That's a hell of a defense mechanism."

"Yes," she just nodded, and unbuckled the trench coat.  "One of many reasons I stopped experimenting on myself, and decided that I need, expendable test subjects.  Since male enhancement hasn't been tested, I have to avoid any unanticipated reactions.  I suppose it helps that I was already asexual, before I started.  Otherwise, being incapable of being naked around any man, without terrifying him might have been more of a hardship."

She shrugged.  "Well, what if you blocked the fear receptors?"

"I don't know, it would have to be tested.  Why, are you volunteering?"

"I don't like this.  It feels claustrophobic, and I've never been claustrophobic before, but I just want to get out of here, and I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack!"

"Yeah," the driver cracked his window, "It's starting to bug me, too."

;

[psiberzerker]

[First, read this when your irrational fear has had time to wear off.  It may have compelled you to consider the treatment, to alleviate the fear you were feeling at the time.  Likewise, there may be some emotional leftovers from the experience.  I realize that you're not used to fear, or admitting it to your conscious self, because of your Military background.  This forces such feelings to the subconscious, so I suggest you sleep on it, to see if you have any nightmares before agreeing to anything irreversible.

Next, I must detail the process itself, and some of the side effects that it is likely to cause.  There is no single Fear chemical, the signal is a combination of neurotransmitters, with multiple receptors.  I'd have to give you a crash course in neuro-chemistry to detail them, however what you need to know is that these receptors process multiple signals.  It would simplify things immeasurably if there was 1 fear chemical, with 1 fear receptor, but the result of this is in blocking them to one signal, you also interfere with other signals, with similar chemical signatures. 

In this case Excitement.  I found that when I underwent this process, my ability to feel excited about anything was also diminished proportionately.  I led a rather boring life to begin with, always most stimulated by intellectual pursuits, so I didn't feel this as much of a loss.  However, some men get into the military, and then other careers like protecting, and serving a sadistic necrophiliac for the thrill.  Therefore, you will have to consider whether you would enjoy those aspects of your work less.  I do not know, nor could I completely understand what drives you, and what you enjoy in life.  So, I must apologize for have such inadequate terms as "Excitement" because feelings are not so easily described.  So, if you are motivated by the thrill, then try to weigh the possibility that that those thrills may diminish with the sensation of Fear.

Lastly, and most importantly, it will be the most terrifying experience you can possibly feel.  This is because the chemicals that block, and bind to the receptors stimulate them in the process, so every cell in your body will quite literally cry out in terror.  Do you have a heart condition?  You mentioned that it felt like you were having a heart attack, I can not know how literally you ment it at the time.  You weren't very rational under it's influence, and you may not be able to know, without having experienced a heart attack before.  Also, it is a remote, though very real possibility.  Fortunately, I do have a defibrillator on hand that I am familiar with, should the need arise, but that is likely the most severe, and potentially lethal side effect.

I urge you to read, and understand this, as fully as possible before you sign and return it. 

_________________]

"Whew!"  Okay, she's serious.  Literally as serious as a heart attack, and while no I haven't actually felt that before, I don't know how much of a rush I'm in to risk it.  Fear itself, that's what I have to weigh here, but beyond living without it, it's not the thrill.  Honestly, it's been a long time since anything has truly excited me enough to call it a thrill, and if I had to sum up my life lately, in a word?  "Jaded."

It can't really get much more boring when participating in gang rape, murder, decapitation, then watching the crowd while they go on to Necrophilia is pretty much another day at the office.  Okay, not just any day, just a Tuesday, but maybe Friday.  Yay, TGIF?  Only instead of being mildly excited that you get to sleep in tomorrow, and come in dressed casual, did I ever participate in it for the thrill?  No, not really, I used to enjoy killing.  In war, shooting somebody, and making it through a firefight alive.  Surviving when so many hadn't, then coming through unscathed, until it became just another firefight.

Then crime, contract kills, and you know?  The intellectual thrill of one of those hard jobs.  Yeah, the targets with a lot of extra security, and higher risk means higher pay, but the sense of accomplishment from getting to someone nobody believed could be gotten to.  Then kidnapping, and of course finding the sorts of people who do it, or pay good money to have it done for the sickest reasons imaginable.  That's why, if she ever asks, she also wants to know what drives men like me to do things like that?  Pride, I'm not ashamed of what I've done, and maybe a little fear in there too. 

Look, if I ever run into a serial killer.  Let's say, IDK, Geoffrey Dahmer, I can still say, "Oh yeah?  That's nothing, why just the other day..."  What do I have to weigh that against?  No promises, though I think she at least hinted that she would be interested in the experiment, of whether she could have sex with a man who was immune to her Fearmones.  Not really the official term for it, but works for me, and I'll have to ask her if it has any affect on Pride.  Is that right?  Affect means effecting your feelings, right?  All right, first of all even under that hat, trench-coat, and the safety seal, she has 1 hell of a body, and 2 she's not my equal.  I can say without a shadow of a doubt, she's physically superior to me, and that's.

Exciting?  In a way I've never felt before, because I never met another woman who's 3 inches taller than me, and can pick me up like a child with another guy my size tucked under her arm.  She wants us to train with her, and fighting by her side like some sort of Valkyrie?  "Yeah."  Point, "See her?  Yeah."  Knowing even if there was another guy who would be man enough to even think about it would run in terror if she ever got naked around him.  I actually thought about jumping out the door, going highway speeds on the freeway, and taking my chances to get away from her.  So, I really have to ask myself, do I really want to be immune to that, and any other fear, rational or not, with the possible side benefit of seeing her naked, and finding out what it's like to have sex with someone like her?

[Jonathan Braddock]

[psiberzerker]

As usual, on the last saturday of the month, more victims were kidnapped for the enjoyment of the rich, and powerful.  Braddock could smell fear, on the part of the middle-schooler in his charge.  Having undergone the worst terror that can be endured, he survived, and took some pride in it, but another side effect was a sensitivity to specific pheromones in sweat.  Adult sweat, though the 13 year old was barely a teenager, she reeked of it, and no longer producing it himself, he began to fetishize it. 

Fondly remembering the time when he felt it, the last time he felt fear for himself, and She unstrapped his hands.  Removed the spinal catheter, and tubes from a needle in his arm.  Held him, gasping, but no longer weeping.  His face still stained by the tears he'd shed in the experience.  Then, as promised, the massive powerful woman peeled back the protective layer from her scalp, the stubble ripping from it at the roots, revealing her head as smooth and bald as the featureless grey of the silicone.  He could not smell it then, even his own, though it saturated the room from the procedure, but she held him.  Told him "It's all right, it will be all right, there's nothing to fear, now.  How do you feel?"

"I don't know, how to say it.  There's no words for this, relief?"

Arriving at the warehouse, more of a commercial barn, out in the old growth mixed forest. 

"No, momma!"  She reached out for her, bound, and gagged in the back seat.  Struggling, the mother-daughter trip having taken a decidedly wrong turn.  Kidnapped, and now he was taking her away.  Holding her mouth, and a sticky strip of tape over it.  "MRH!" 

"Snh," smelling her hair, and sighing.  "Shhh, you'll see her again, soon enough.  Relax, fighting isn't going to do you any good, and you need to save your strength.  Don't be afraid.  There's nothing to be afraid of."

It wasn't working, she wasn't having any of this, and this.  Man, this monster, this horrible block of dumb muscle.  This beast, not knowing his intentions did nothing to calm her.  Sooth her nor allay her fears, but she had to suspect, whatever she was in for was sexual. 

She had thought, she had suffered at the hands of boys.  Her age, give or take a year, and their lust.  Their looks, and groping, their reassuring voices trying to coerce her into places she didn't want to go.  To do things she didn't want to do, and disgusted by the very thought of it. 

Her friends, telling her what happened later.  Smokers, lured with cigarettes, and the promise of some place to smoke.  In private, so their mothers would never find out, then something worse.  "Here, try this.  Go on, you know what to do.  I know, it's much bigger than a cigarette, but it's just the same.  You just got to suck on it."

It gave her nightmares, but nothing like this.  Never as bad as this, and he was just smelling her hair.  Not even touching her bra, but his arm around her ribs.  Pinning one arm, and holding the other in his powerful grip.  The door opened, and there was another man, and now a woman.

"MHN!"



"Shp, another fighter.  Shp."  Not like Darth Vader, really. 

"Huh, not much fight left in her."

"NO!"  The tape ripped from her mouth.  "What are you doingH!  Let me, mh?"

"Sh."  The rubbery glovetip, slipped back, and forth across her lips.  It felt greasy, and smelled tangy.  Like hospital air, or disinfectant, but now the young captive was relaxing.  "Shp."  Calm, she realized the sound came from behind her.  "This will help.  Shp."  Turning back, wiping her finger on an alcohol swab, the girl saw that there were canisters, hanging behind her back.  The valves opening.  "Shp!"

 emot_weird.gif  "Has there been another accident?  Another attack?"

"No, she's a biohazard, she sweats chemical weapons.  So, she has to wear that, to protect us from her."

"Oh.  What are you doing to me?"

She turned back, and took another breath.  "Shpuh, we're going to give you an opportunity, shp, to save your mother.  Take her away, shp, and get her ready to fight."

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