What Really Makes A Scientist Mad Ch. 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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