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Amateur

Mother’s Point of View

My world is devastated when I’m told that my research is being defunded. I shake my head so hard that my thick-framed glasses nearly fall and I have to readjust it. This is the last thing I expected to happen.

“I’m sorry, Jennifer, I truly am,” the Director says. “I did my best to argue on your behalf, but the Board refuses to budge.”

For context, my project is a marvel of modern science. Mainly it’s meant for psychological purposes; helping people overcome fears and other mental obstacles. It’s simple to use. All someone has to do is wear a harness that latches to their head and their emotions and/or body can be controlled.

A big problem is that my research has cost multi-million dollars and there still needs to be extensive testing before it’s ready for global medical use. In total, the financial investment will be massive.

Worse, this corporation — as powerful as they are — has taken financial hits from their other endeavors. It makes sense that they’re cutting costs wherever possible.

I plead with the Research Director to go back to the Board or the CEO and explain that I’m so close to a finished project. All I need are a few more months and this device could generate enormous amounts of money around the world.

As great as the money sounds, my motives have always been for the sake of humanity. That sounds cliche, but it’s true. I’ve always been altruistic and this is my life’s calling. It’s incredibly frustrating to come this far, only to be told that my work is being shut down.

“I’m so sorry, Jen, they’ve already re-allocated the budget. You have a week to finish what you’re doing. Then your research will be put in storage for future development. You’ll be transferred to another department afterward.”

The news hits me hard. Without a budget, progress is impossible, because this kind of research needs the full use of the laboratory along with the input of other scientists. It’s a team effort on all fronts.

“Where’s the budget going?” I question.

“Trust me, don’t ask. It’ll only make you angry.”

“Tell me. I deserve to know.”

“Sex research,” the Director says plainly. “It’s going to sex research. There’s been a breakthrough on a female hormonal drug. Think of it as female-viagra. Millions of dollars are being shifted to complete the development of that because there’s a huge market for it.”

If I had a mirror, I’m certain that my reflection would be fury. I can tell my expression is making the Director uncomfortable, but that’s okay. My passion to help others is overwhelming, and while I try to understand that sex research helps countless women, I feel that it pales in comparison to what my device could do.

A fire burns inside me.

I reply, “The device I’m working on can be recalibrated for sexual purposes. I understand the demand for female sex treatment and I know what can be done to fix that.”

My request and tenacity catch the Director off guard, which is always fun. It’s the last thing the Director expects to hear. I can tell my proposal is being considered. It’s smart business, because my project is almost complete. And I have a lot of background in research towards women’s sexual functions — I led a department for that many years ago.

“I’ll run the idea by upper-management,” the Director says. “It’s a tough sell, but plausible.”

“Give me a week. I’ll make the necessary adjustments.”

When the meeting is over, I mentally go to work. I grab a cup of coffee and walk outside. There is a view of a garden and the ocean is nearby. I breathe in fresh air and think about what changes need to be made. Reasonably, it can be finished within the allotted time.

I’ll have to explain this to my team, which comprises of fellow scientists, assistants, and interns. They’ll understand. They are loyal and do whatever I say.

My son also works with me. Dave is an intern and his passion for science makes me proud. I’ve raised him right, but also, I think his interest in science is genetic. We have many similarities and he’s mature enough to handle a project which centers around female sexuality.

***

The following week is a nightmare, as I expected. The conflict in my heart is strong, but I am resolute. My sector suffered a massive loss as many on my team have already been transferred to other departments.

I have three more days to put the final touches on the redesigned project. This kind of pressure always brings out the best and worst of me. Best because it forces me to be creative. Worse because I often cut corners and push people to their limits.

Our latest female model is a young woman named Zhang and she is someone who has great difficulties having an orgasm. It’s more common than people think and she’s willing to share her body with us for the good of science. Other than that, she’s in perfect health.

Zhang wears a medical gown with nothing underneath. She sits down while we connect the neurolink wires to her head — bedava bahis a simple process.

I activate the small device and my team of 6 people monitor everything. On different screens, we can see Zhang’s brain waves, heart rate, and other details of her body function. At this point, we’re ready to go. We’ve done other successful tests in the previous days, but this is our first sexual trial.

“Stand up,” I say, before telling her, “Now sit down… Stand up again and walk towards me… Now go back to your seat.”

Success. Our subject, while fully aware, is responding to my command without thinking and without hesitation. She knows she is being controlled while it’s happening and she finds it to be amusing. Everyone in the lab is excited by it.

It’s a real shame that such a revolutionary device must now be tailored for sexual purposes, but I’m certain that the Board and CEO will soon be on my side. Such technology is destined to leave a mark on this world for the better.

Now it’s time to get serious. I tell her to lay back on the cushioned exam table. She complies and I tell her to lift her medical gown to expose her vagina. Her feet are propped on stirrups and we can see her exposed. My team brings a camera to her vaginal area to record what happens next. We’re close to the moment of truth, maybe it’ll work, maybe not.

I provide Zhang with a vibrator.

“Give yourself an orgasm,” I say.

The look on Zhang’s face is determination. She is ready for this experience in her life and she complies. With the vibrator activated and the camera recording, Zhang begins to masturbate. Her vital signs and brain function look encouraging, since there is a steady increase in activity.

It appears the research is going well, but suddenly she stops and pulls the vibrator out of herself. Her arousal signs on the screen drop and her functions are returning to a normal state. She sits upright.

“I’m sorry,” Zhang says. “I can’t. I don’t know what happened.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” I reply.

We shut off the device and remove the neurolink from her head. As always, we check her mental and physical state to make sure she’s okay. She’s fine, as expected, but extremely disappointed that she couldn’t reach a climax and that the experiment failed.

*

It’s 5:23 p.m. and I’m exhausted sitting behind my desk going over our analysis. The rest of my team have already gone home, while my son is cleaning equipment in the lab area. I’m pleased with the work he’s done today and he’s more than proven himself.

I type a brief report to the Director of Research and I’m honest about everything. We’re close and I explain that we’re a few tweaks away from a breakthrough. I do everything short of begging for more time, because I know I won’t get it.

Tomorrow we continue and time is running out. Ideas are swirling in my head, but I can tell that my son wants to go home. I owe him a burger and fries from a nearby restaurant for putting him through this.

As I turn off my computer, the conflict in my heart grows stronger. How can I enjoy dinner with my son when my life’s work is failing? I already know the solution to the problem. It’s somewhere in my head. I just need to find it.

Son’s Point of View

It was impressive seeing her so fired up. She adjusted her glasses then changed the settings on the device. We were alone in the lab, which was common, but this time mom was about to restart the research without any of her assistants.

“Do you think you can handle this?” she asked, holding the remote control after recalibrating the device.

“How exactly would that work?” I replied. “You want to run another test? Right now?”

She handed me the control. “Yes.”

“We don’t have a live model.”

“I’ll be the model. You be the scientist.”

I knew better than to argue with mom. As far as arguments go, she’s a world champion. I accepted the remote control and looked at her skeptically. Even with tired eyes, she still looks beautiful. I’ve always thought so, though she never bothered to do anything special with her looks.

“How far should we go with this?” I asked.

“Let’s try going 90% of the way; don’t give me an orgasm. That would be gross. But we’ll do everything else.”

She winked with confidence then removed her lab coat. Her adrenaline was picking up and I could see her breathing a little harder. Activating the device and monitors, she made a series of minor adjustments. This was what her job was all about. The feeling of pressure to do something great.

Before this moment, she told me that she’d have to walk a fine line between scientific research and being a mother. Now I understood what she meant, as she attached the neurolink wires to her head. A woman like her is unstoppable and that kind of ambition is infectious in the lab.

“I promise I’ll stay within reason,” I said nervously. “Are there any other specific instructions?”

“Do you remember what I did with bedava bonus Zhang earlier?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do the same process,” she replied. “But DO NOT give me an orgasm. Don’t even try it. That’s where our line is.”

“Of course.”

With mom’s blessing, I activated the device. It was my first time using it, but the controls were simple enough. Naturally, I was worried about screwing up or something happening to mom’s health. There’s a rigorous health screening before anyone is allowed to do a trial.

I switched the device to the lowest setting and mom took a deep breath. Her eyes opened wide and she looked alert. It was working.

“What does it feel like?” I asked.

“Like a warm hug. My nerves and muscles feel tense. Go on. Take this further. I can handle it.”

For the next 20 minutes, we ran through the basics. The device worked as expected for ordinary physical acts. When I told her to stand, she did it. She’d walk across the room without any thought. Frankly, she was amused and excited that her device worked like a charm for simple things.

Then we took things further. Within reason, as mom laid back on the cushioned table, I asked about her body. The questions were the same that Zhang was asked earlier, but I refrained from anything overtly sexual.

“We should continue tomorrow,” I said. “Save the rest for the model.”

She thought for a moment. “No, let’s proceed. I need to know the results so I can think about this overnight.”

“How far do you want to go?”

She thought even more. “Today is your lucky day. Try to make me orgasm. You’ll be the first son in history to make his mother cum by verbal command.”

“I should be in the history books if this works — for all the wrong reasons.”

We thought it was amusing and I gave more commands. Unlike the previous model, this was purely verbal. There’d be no masturbation or sex toys. Just mental stimulation. Honestly, I wondered how certain mom was that this would work. To this day, I wonder if she thought it would be a failure.

Her legs crossed and the look on her face was pure shock. Her jaw was dropped and her eyes were wide open. She quickly controlled herself and tried to look as normal as possible, and in that moment, we both knew that something serious had happened.

“Were you close?” I asked.

“Keep going with this, as far as you can. You have my permission now.”

I gathered my courage to say this. “Concentrate on having an orgasm. Focus hard on your sexual feelings and the sensations in your vagina.”

The verbal command was processed through the neurolink and things were happening. It was like mom was possessed as she squirmed. Her body twisted like something was flowing through her, and her breathing increased, like her heart was pounding. Mom’s vital signs were going to the extremes.

“Make me cum,” she said in a low, hushed voice. “God, I’m so close.”

“Focus on your orgasm. Focus on your orgasm.”

Her entire body clenched while she turned stiff. Even though she was fully dressed and she tried to hide it, I could tell that she just had an orgasm. Her breathing and eye movements showed all the tell-tale signs of female climax. It was a marvelous sight.

When she finished, she pulled the neurolink from her head. She sat upright and hung her head down, still trying to catch her breath. I wondered what she was thinking, if she was ashamed of having an orgasm in front of me, or proud that her device worked.

“Tomorrow is going to be a busy day,” she said, looking at me then smiling.

She was right. Only she’d be busy in ways she never expected.

***

The following morning in the laboratory was buzzing with excitement as scientists and assistants knew they had a winning product on their hands. It was amazing to see, best of all, I felt so happy for my mother. Ever since the product worked, it was all she could talk about.

Her orgasm hadn’t been mentioned again between us. She never brought it up with me. There were more important matters at hand, such as notifying the Director that the game has changed. They’d been in close contact ever since and the Director asked to be constantly updated on new developments.

An hour before the next test, at approximately 9:32 in the morning, I got a text message from the Director, who told me to check my email.

Congratulations Dave,

Your mother and the rest of the team have done an outstanding job. I’ve spoken with the decision-makers at the top and they’re elated. They’re very interested in re-funding your mother’s work. They’ll even give her a big promotion and a massive budget.

Well done.

Before any final decisions are made, they need more proof that the device is legitimate. To be honest, they worry that your mother could be bullshitting them.

So, it’s your job to prove it. Turn your mother into a personal sex doll. Push your mother to the limits and only then will the higher-ups be convinced.

The deneme bonusu proof needs to be recorded on video.

Best of luck.

x

The email message was clear enough and I replied with my understanding, even though I was still conflicted about what to do next.

Knowing the Director and the kinds of people who run this corporation, it had to be done, and it had to be done immediately. This is one of the biggest scientific corporations in the world because they know how to produce results.

I went to mom’s office, still figuring out what to say, while she was preparing for the upcoming trial. She was so focused on her computer screen that she didn’t even look at me as I entered.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said.

She finally looked at me. “Yes?”

“The Director emailed me about something.”

“Well, are you going to tell me what it’s about?” she asked, adjusted her glasses to give me a sharper look.

I thought quickly. “No, it’s better if I don’t. But it was about what you did yesterday, and the proof the Board wants before approving your research, if you know what I mean.”

“We’re getting more verification today.”

It was a delicate balance I had to do. I was mindful of avoiding problems between my mother and senior-management. Showing mom that email could have resulted in her being furious beyond belief.

“Your orgasm could be faked,” I said. “So could the model’s orgasm. That’s what they’re worried about. They’re worried that the outcomes are fake or skewed somehow. Do you get what I’m saying?”

My mother leaned back in her chair and stared at me. She knows how people think and how upper-management works. Without saying anything, she understood the point I was making. It was a rational concern, after all.

“Okay, okay,” she said, looking away from me and gathering her things. “I need to get ready for the next trial. Do whatever you have to do.”

“What do you mean? I think we should talk about…”

She stopped and looked at me. “I’m busy. Do whatever you need, okay? You have my blessing. Now let me work.”

There was sorrow in her eyes and her voice nearly cracked with emotions. She knew what I was trying to imply. She knew what upper-management wanted. And she accepted the outcome. She was willing to make major sacrifices to achieve her dream of creating something beneficial for society.

Now the only question was, could I do it?

*

We continued the work in the laboratory with Zhang again. This time, the results were spectacular. Zhang was like a woman possessed. Being naked from the waist down, she squirted all over the table and floor. She couldn’t stop, and she didn’t want to either. Having orgasms so easily was like a new drug for her.

The other researchers were amazed by what the fully updated neurolink was able to accomplish. Zhang went from a woman with a sexual mental block, to someone who had 4 powerful orgasms within an hour.

In the end, Zhang laid exhausted with a pool between her legs, while the researchers went into overdrive, analyzing all of the data that the computers and monitors were able to capture. They were at the forefront of revolutionary technology and it excited them.

A celebratory lunch was called for and someone suggested a nearby Indian restaurant. My mother declined, making an excuse that she needed to speak with the Director, which nobody questioned.

With the lab empty, my mother traced her fingers through the wires of the neurolink. She knew what needed to happen between us and she was preparing herself for such a daunting task.

“How should this happen?” mom asked. “I wear the link and you handle the rest before everyone comes back?”

I was at a loss for words, then replied, “Should we talk about this? You know, create ground rules or something?”

“For what? I can already imagine what the Director wants. And your eyes practically gave away what the email was about.”

“Are you mad? At me? Or anyone?”

Her expression remained stoic. “Science is science. It requires research and proof. Without adequate proof, everything is just theory.”

“Should we have a signal or code word?” I asked. “Just in case you want to stop what we’re doing.”

“No. I won’t stop. Completing my device means everything to me. One day, hopefully soon, it’s going to change modern medicine. It’ll be used in every major hospital in the world.”

There was nothing left to say. Mom was an unstoppable woman on a mission.

She attached the neurolink to the top of her head. Unlike the trial research, nothing was hooked to her body. Her vital signs and the other forms of monitoring her health were unnecessary. This was purely about control.

“I won’t be mad,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “I swear I won’t be mad. Just give them what they want. If they want proof, give them proof.”

“I’ll try to make this quick before anyone comes back.”

“That’s a good idea.”

With the remote control in hand, I activated the device and mom’s body felt a jolt and she stood upright. Her eyes looked more alert as the neurolink connected with her brain functions.

“Hold your arms out,” I said, testing the link. “Then take two steps forward, then two steps back.”

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