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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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The Svengali Device
By Anonymous (no address provided)
***
A NASA device to control an astronaut's body is used
on a female development team member with pleasurable
consequences. It is not mind control but physical
control of all muscles below the neck. A thinly
disguised true story. (FF, reluc, mast, exh, sci-fi)
***
Author's note: The Svengali Device actually exists. It
will be used in an upcoming manned Mars mission. The
author, a female NASA engineer, verifies the
authenticity of the events described during the
testing and training phase. She has since left NASA to
take up a position at a university. The names, of
course, are all fictitious.
***
Up until yesterday I worked for NASA on the Mars
landing project. My letter of resignation said that I
had been offered a position on the faculty of MIT.
That much is true but here is the real story of my
resignation.
First let me tell you a little about myself. My name
is Brigitte Swenson. I was raised on a farm in
Minnesota about 60 miles from Minneapolis and attended
the local high school. It was a small school. Too
small to field a football team but big enough for a
basketball team. I was one of six girls in my senior
class. To put it bluntly, I was a bit of a science
geek. Almost an uber nerd. I excelled in math, physics
and biology. This made me seem a little puzzling to
the boys in my class. It was very unfeminine.
It's not that I looked like a nerd. I had typical
Swedish blond farm girl looks. Tall, well built, with
a reasonably attractive face. It's just that I didn't
act like a typical girl. There were so few of us in my
class that I had my share of dates to school dances by
default. Probably the boys chose lots and the loser
had to take me. Most made the obligatory pass, groped
me during dances and tried to get in my pants. I've
got to confess that many of them succeeded. The boys
didn't have to try very hard. I was very cooperative.
I lost my virginity on a Scouting camping trip during
the summer between my sophomore and junior year in
high school. Actually I didn't lose my virginity. I
more or less willingly gave it away. It was a cold
night, the blankets were thin, and the boy in the next
tent and I decided to pool our body heat and share our
body parts. It was a very logical arrangement. Raised
on a farm, I knew what sex was all about. At first my
male bed partner and I just hugged each other. Just to
keep warm, you know.
Then I felt his hands creep under my sweatshirt and
fondle my tits. I was proud of my tits. They were the
size of oranges and were very sensitive. If I matured
to look like my mother they would get even bigger.
Perhaps the size of grapefruits. Large grapefruits. My
nipples got hard and I felt his mouth on them. Despite
the cold I was getting warmer and warmer. I liked to
have my body touched and my tits sucked. I even liked
to have a finger stroke my cunt.
But this was no finger. It was bigger and harder and
leaked a bit at the end. He pulled down my sweatpants
and I felt the end of his cock press between my pussy
lips. By this time I was so hot that I simply put my
big farm girl hands around his butt and pulled him
into me. It surprised both of us but we took advantage
of the situation and had a glorious first fuck. I must
have cum three or four times during the night. We
didn't get much sleep but at least we kept warm.
By the time of my graduation most of my male
classmates and I had shared our body parts several
times. I thrashed and squirmed and orgasmed with the
best of them and was regarded as a great piece of ass,
although a bit hard to talk to. There is not much to
do in a rural Minnesota town during the winter if you
don't ice fish or play hockey. Fucking was enjoyable
and certainly good exercise. At least the way I did
it.
With the proper prevention there were no bad
consequences. It beat watching inane sitcoms on TV. I
figured that my high school sex life wouldn't
interfere with my chosen career as a scientist. Who
knows or cares what Madame Curie did as a teenager.
Like a proper nerd, I scored over 1500 on my SATs and
was admitted to Cal Tech and given a scholarship to
boot.
I worked my ass off at Cal Tech. Sure I had a few
dates on the weekends and even a short lesbian affair
with a fellow student but apart from a few dalliances
I would have made the vicar at the Lutheran church in
my town proud. Decent climaxes were few and far
between. Cal Tech is hardly a party school. In my
senior year I was mentored by Professor Saul
Rosensweig, a Nobel Prize winner in neuro physiology.
Professor Rosensweig had just received a large grant
from the Christopher Reeve foundation to develop a
device for restoring mobility to paraplegics. The idea
was simple. A break in the spinal cord, such as actor
Reeve suffered in a fall from his horse paralyzes the
entire body below the break. If a way could be found
to transfer nervous system impulses from the brain to
the spinal cord below the break then some measure of
mobility would be restored. The previous year, Prof.
Rosensweig had published a paper describing just such
a method.
Rosensweig proposed putting an array of miniscule
electrodes above the break to pick up the nerve
impulses from the brain. The received signals would be
transmitted to a similar array of electrodes below the
break point to activate the nerve. The trick was to
connect the right nerves to each other. He proposed a
calibration program in which a computer ran through an
extensive series of stimuli exciting each nerve above
the break point and noting which muscle group was
activated below the break point.
Eventually the broken nerve segments could be matched.
When the best match was found, the arrays would be
surgically implanted and the paraplegic would achieve
some degree of functional mobility. When tested on
animals, it worked well.
But a couple of years after the project was started,
it was terminated. Another technique of restoring
function seemed even more promising. The right
combination of hormones, surgery, and retraining could
induce the severed nerve ends to actually grow back
together. But Prof. Rosensweig's research attracted
the attention of NASA.
The first human Mars landings would be difficult and
extremely costly. The plan was for an orbiting space
craft to circle the planet carrying a team of experts
while a two astronaut lander vehicle descended to the
surface to remain there for several weeks collecting
data. It was a daunting task. The men on the surface
would have to work as pilots, explorers, engineers,
geologists, meterologists, cartograhers, repairmen,
and, if the need arose, medical men.
No single person could possess all of those skills.
One of the NASA scientists remembered that during WW2
an appendectomy was performed aboard a US submarine in
enemy waters by remote control. A shoreside surgeon
directed the actions of a medical corpsman by radio to
perform the surgery. The patient lived. Rosensweig's
methodology could offer a high tech method of
achieving the same effect.
In its final developed form the apparatus was quite
simple. An expert in the skill to be performed wore a
nervous system sensor helmet. The electrical nerve
impulses directing the appropriate muscle movements
were picked up and transmitted by a radio link to a
receiver attached to the astronauts neck. The
astronauts voluntary nerve impulses in the spinal cord
were blocked by an electrical interfering signal. The
orbiting expert wearing the helmet controlled the
astronaut's muscle movements. The sensor array was, in
fact, a tranceiver. Tactual and sensory information
was sent back to the controlling expert.
He or she had to know what the fingers were feeling as
well as doing. No visual or auditory data was sent
over the link since there were plenty of other ways to
establish sight and sound communication. Basically,
when activated, the link gave the orbiting expert
control over the astronaut's body from the neck down.
One of the wags at NASA dubbed it the Svengali Device
after the story of a charlatan who mesmerized a young
girl to be an opera singer. She could sing like an
angel but only when the hypnotist willed her to, In
the same sense the astronaut could be a master surgeon
but only when a real surgeon was directing his
fingers.
As Professor Rosensweig's apprentice, I was hired by
NASA to demonstrate the Svengali Device to both the
astronauts and the flight surgeons who would be
responsible for attaching it. The job was really
simple but paid well. I would travel to various
locations and demonstrate the device to small groups
of NASA personnel. The procedure was simple. I had a
transceiver attached to the back of my neck with Magic
Glue. Because of the long calibration program the
transceiver stayed attached for the entire training
session.
The training group, usually consisting of a few
Martian astronaut candidates and a couple of medical
personnel would receive a lecture on the theory of the
device and then be shown how to attach it. For the
practical part of the demonstration a member of the
audience would don a helmet with sensors which would
pick up muscle movement commands from the brain. The
signals would be sent to a powerful desktop computer
which would process the information and then send
muscle movement commands to the chip fixed to my neck.
My muscles would do the things that the operator
commanded. Each member of the training group got a
chance to be "me" for a short while.
It wasn't as scary as it sounds. The program had all
sorts of safeguards. I couldn't be made to hurt myself
or anyone else. The social situation precluded any
obscene behavior. There was another NASA scientist
standing by to pull the plug in case things got out of
control. Finally, the program shut itself down after
30 minutes.
But how could the group tell that I was not faking? We
thought for a long time about it but the problem
solved itself. Usually there was a member of the group
that played the piano or a guitar or juggled. While I
was demonstrating the Svengali Device the helmet
wearing controller would have me play some favorite
melody or juggle or even do card tricks. The
controller was moving my hands just as he or she would
move their own.
Each training session lasted several days. We usually
all stayed in a motel near the base for convenience.
Training was intense. We didn't want normal day to day
duties to interfere. My last training group consisted
of two astronaut candidates, both handsome and
distinguished looking men, a couple of middle aged
flight surgeons, and a rather mousey nurse who would
be responsible for actually attaching and calibrating
the transceivers.
The first and second days of our training session were
unexceptional. The theory session went off without
incident. Everyone seemed to understand how the device
worked. On the second day everyone got to wear the
helmet and act as the controller. I went through a
series of card tricks, played the piano, and tried my
hand at knitting. I never knitted anything before and
even I was surprised at how deftly my fingers handled
the needles and yarn. By the end of the day I was
exhausted and looked forward to a long shower and a
good night's sleep. We all retired to our rooms
anticipating the wrap up session scheduled for the
next morning.
Just as I stepped out of the shower I felt the buzzing
in my neck. This was the sign of the five minute
calibration cycle necessary to verify the integrity of
the connection. I knew that I had just a few minutes
to find out what was happening. My laptop computer was
on the coffee table in front of the sofa. I flipped it
open and established a connection to the main computer
at NASA headquarters to see if a system test that I
had not known about was occurring. No luck. Things
were normal.
I then established a connection with our local desktop
computer that processed the Svengali commands. All I
could determine was that some unauthorized person had
turned it on. And that was it. There was a final
buzzing pulse and I lost control of my body from the
neck down. Thankfully, I was sitting on the sofa.
Otherwise I would have fallen a a heap on the floor
until the controller made me stand up.
There I was. Sitting stark naked on the sofa, still
dripping wet. I could move my head from side to side
and up and down. I could move my eyes, twitch my nose,
and lick my lips but I couldn't voluntarily move
anything else. My breathing was normal and I could
make whispering voice sounds but I couldn't speak loud
enough to cry out for help. I sat there for a few
seconds just waiting for something to happen. I knew
that the system would turn itself off in 30 minutes so
I decided just to wait it out. Then my hands began to
move.
My hands moved tentatively at first but it was obvious
that the motions weren't random. Someone was
controlling them. They slowly moved up and cupped my
breasts. The fingers grasped the soft tissue and
squeezed a bit. It was as if they were giving me a
breast examination. I have big breasts and my fingers
squeezed even tighter around the middle. I felt an
erotic sensation and looked down. The end of my boobs
bulged like water balloons. The nipples and areolas
were bright pink. Then the hands drifted forward and
began rolling the nipples between my thumbs and
forefingers.
The sensations got stronger and stronger. After a few
minutes of nipple play my nipples were as stiff as
little thimbles and I could feel them tingling. I'm
sure that whoever was controlling my hands could feel
them too. The fingers rolled my nipples for what
seemed an eternity then grasped my turgid nipples and
pulled them out as far as they could go. I always
liked my nipples pulled hard and the feeling was
extremely erotic. This wasn't a breast examination at
all. My own hands were feeling me up.
"Please stop" I managed to whisper. I was embarrassed
at the way my body was responding. My nipples had
grown to the size of small acorns and the color had
changed from pink to red. Little bumps emerged on the
areolas. The nipples longed for even more intense
stimulation. I desperately wanted my errant hands to
raise my breasts to my mouth so I could lick the
nipples.
I wanted, no, needed my titties to be sucked. But
naturally whoever was controlling me couldn't hear my
faint plea. Even so, my controller would feel my
excitement. Then, as if my controller could read my
mind, I felt my hand leave my right breast and join
the hand holding my left breast. With both hands
clutching the breast my hands raised it towards my
head. The nipple was almost within reach of my mouth.
All I had to do was bend my head downward. My breasts
were big but not big enough to reach my lips without a
little cooperation on my part. I could have resisted.
But I didn't.
I bent my head forward and wrapped my lips around the
rough nipple. I sucked and chewed. The feeling was
heavenly. I never felt this way when I masturbated.
When I did that I knew exactly what I was doing to
myself and could anticipate each pleasure. But now my
hands were acting on their own. I couldn't tell what
they would do next. As I tongued my swollen nipple I
caught a glimpse of motion on my computer screen.
The laptop, still open on the coffee table, showed an
image of me sucking my tit. The computer camera was on
and I was broadcasting my image to the internet.
Certainly my controller could watch me. I had
neglected to sign off the link to the main computer at
NASA headquarters so they were receiving the image
too. All communications to the NASA computer were
recorded. My tit self-sucking video was being
preserved for posterity.
I could see, in vivid color, my hands holding my
breast to my mouth. I could watch my cheeks hollow and
fill as I tried to draw milk from my barren pap. I was
making a thoroughly indecent display of myself. Almost
obscene. As I watched I saw my right hand leave my
breast and move down my body stroking it gently as it
went. It settled right on my crotch.
"Don't do it," I whispered. "Please don't do it." To
no avail. My controller spread my legs. The movements
were a bit awkward since the Svengali Device did not
have as fine control over the body below the waist as
it did over the hands and arms. Still they spread
apart exposing my pussy for the entire world to see.
The fingers of my free hand roamed over my vulva,
caressing the already slightly puffy lips, stroking my
clitoris in passage. I shuddered at the twinge of
ecstasy every time my fingernail passed over my clit.
By this time I was so caught up in what was being done
to me that I forgot that I was broadcasting my passion
to the world. I had lost my sense of scientific
objectivity. All I could think about was cumming. It
had been a long time since I had a decent orgasm and I
really needed one. My controller was making my hands
do a great job of pleasuring my body. It was entirely
involuntary, almost as if I was being raped by my own
hands. I had absolutely no responsibility for anything
that was happening to me. So I guess that gave me
leave to enjoy myself without guilt.
"If you are going to do it to me, do it right," I
thought. "Drive those fingers into my cunt. Really
work me over." As before, my controller seemed to be
able to read my mind. The hand that was holding my
breast to my mouth descended to join its partner on my
pussy. I grasped my nipple between my teeth trying to
hold it in place. I but down hard reveling in the
combinations of pain and pleasure.
Alas my tits weren't quite big enough for me to suck
them without some manual assistance. Perhaps in a few
more years - -. My nipple slithered out of my mouth,
scraping against my teeth. I watched my breast drop,
the end wet and shiny, the nipple even redder and
larger. I'm sure I would have tooth marks around the
areola in the morning.
My two hands were now free to work their magic on my
vulva. I couldn't bend my head down far enough to
watch what they were doing but I had a good view on
the laptop screen. I felt, rather than saw, the
fingers spread my labia and scoop up a little moisture
from inside my vagina. Then they began to stroke
around the whole area, paying special attention to the
inside of my pussy lips. One hand drifted to my
clitoris and the fingers gently played over the
surface.
My controller had a good imagination. It's just what I
would have done to myself. I couldn't physically move
but my body was squirming internally from the intense
stimulation. The best way I can describe it is as if I
was tied down to a bed, unable to move, while an army
of sexual ninjas manipulated my body parts. All i
could do was whisper to my controller, "Oh, please. Do
it to me. Do me. Make me cum."
Finally the fingers of one hand circled my clitoris,
gently stroking it. Waves of excitement surged through
me with each touch. The fingers of the other hand
penetrated my vagina and moved in and out. I could see
what I was doing on the laptop screen. My pussy seemed
huge.
I was finger fucking myself, my wet fingers driving
into my cunt faster and faster while my other hand
pulled and twisted my now swollen clitoris. I could
smell the musk of my juices and that made me even more
excited. Please hurry, I thought. The 30 minutes are
almost up and I need an orgasm before the system shuts
down. The idea that I could finish doing myself even
after the shutdown never occurred to me.
I felt myself rising, rising, toward a climax as my
hands worked my pussy. Despite the induced paralysis
my body was twitching, my hips rising to meet my
stroking fingers as if responding to a lover. My legs
stretched out and tensed, beginning a final orgiastic
dance. These autonomic body movements had never
occurred in any of our trials. But then no one had
ever given our subjects an orgasm while using the
Svengali Device.
A spasm of my legs kicked the coffee table and jarred
the computer. The camera no longer imaged my face but
pointed lower on my body. I could see that I was
sprawled diagonally across the screen, feet in one
corner, neck in the other while my hands were working
my cunt. I've got to admit that it was a lovely and
very sexy image. It was strangely erotic. Beautiful,
in fact. If I didn't know it was me I would have
looked at it for hours. But it was me and I wanted to
see the girl on the screen shudder to completion. I
wanted to cum.
My controller was working me to a peak. My body
responded. Bolts of electricity shot through me. I
could feel my cunt growing. It was swallowing me
whole. I was becoming all cunt. A cunt that was going
to explode in an orgasm. I could feel it starting to
happen. The world dropped away and my psyche, my very
objective scientific nerd's psyche, vanished into my
vagina. My body rolled, twisted and shuddered, legs
rigid, back arched.
"I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" I whispered to myself.
"I'm going to cum now! Yes, Yes. I'M CUMMING,
CUMMMING!"
My body blasted into orbit with my best orgasm in
years. Because of the magic of the Svengali linkage
every one of my sensations must have been transmitted
directly back to my controller.
Just in time. The system shut down and I collapsed
back on the sofa, now in full control of my body. It
was all I could do to stand up and shut off my
computer, knowing that I had broadcast my ecstasy to
all of NASA on the internet. I wiped my pussy juices
off the naugahyde sofa, took another shower, and went
to bed. As I fell asleep I pondered the question of
who had done this to me. If my controller was a man it
must have been an odd experience. A full-fledged
female orgasm in a male body. If the controller was a
woman, it might have been the climax of a lifetime.
In the morning I knew that I would have to face the
trainees for the final session. Who was my controller?
Was it one of the astronauts? They were handsome guys
and I wouldn't mind having one of them fuck me for
real. Was it one of the flight surgeons? Probably not.
They were responsible family men and neither one
seemed particularly interested in me during the
classroom periods.
I tried to make our final meeting as short as
possible. I gave each one of the students the official
NASA handbook describing the Svengali Device and the
certificate of course completion. Then I shook their
hands and said goodbye. When I got to the final
student, the nurse, she grasped my hand tightly and
pulled me closer. She said quietly "I hope you liked
what we experienced last night. I know that I did."
"Yes I did. Thank you," was all I could manage to say.
She kissed me on the cheek and we said an awkward
goodbye. Still I kept her name and phone number in my
address book in case of a carnal emergency.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 74