EXPERIMENTAL AUDIO TRANSCRIPT -- UNAUTHORIZED
PROJECT: Cognitive Enhancement Through Orgasm-Conditioned Reward Systems
TRIAL ID: #A-Em-47
RESEARCH LEAD: Soledad Rodriguez, Ph.D. (remote)
SUBJECT: Alice M., Chief Design Officer
ENVIRONMENT: Private Office, Bluetooth Call
TIME STAMP: 12:03:18 PM -- 12:19:06 PM
[TRANSCRIPT BEGINS]
ALICE:
Soledad, hey babe. You got five minutes? I've got Em... occupied.
SOLEDAD:
Oh god, what now? You sound breathless already.
ALICE:
She climbed under my desk the second I sat down. I didn't even ask this time. Just unzipped me like she knew I needed it. Which I did.
SOLEDAD:
Jesus. That girl's going to die of dehydration.
ALICE:
She keeps a thermos. I check. (pauses, exhales) Mm. Okay. Okay. So--branding push for the Fuzzbite rollout--remember that fucked-up honeycomb-caramel combo we mocked? It tested off the charts with stoners and middle-aged moms.
SOLEDAD:
Those are basically the same demographic.
ALICE:
Exactly. So I said fuck it--retro seventies, orange and brown type, but make it slutty. Like... slutty autumn.
SOLEDAD:
What the hell does that even mean?
ALICE:
Leg warmers and no panties. Chunky bangles. You know--(sucks in breath sharply) ahhh, yes--Jesus, just like that.
SOLEDAD:
Tell me that was about the logo.
ALICE:
No, that was her tongue. Em, slower, baby. Use your whole mouth. That's it.
SOLEDAD:
I hate you and I'm obsessed with you. Go on.
ALICE:
So the pitch deck has this animated wombat who eats a Fuzzbite and immediately grows sunglasses and fuck-me pumps. I might be high, but it works.
SOLEDAD:
Wait, are you literally--
ALICE:
Actively being eaten out? Yes. It's multitasking. I'm a professional.
SOLEDAD:
Do you at least have your headphones on?
ALICE:
Sweetheart, I'm Bluetooth. I could be taking this call on a yacht or bent over a copier. Em, tongue inside, baby. Good girl. Mmm. She's getting cocky, Soledad. I think she wants a reward.
SOLEDAD:
What's the reward?
ALICE:
She gets to swallow. Hold on--fuck--don't stop, don't you dare stop--
SOLEDAD:
I'll call back later.
ALICE:
No, no--I'm fine. Just... lightheaded. Where were we? Oh, right--wombat with stilettos.
SOLEDAD:
Okay but seriously--how the fuck do you function like this? I get distracted when someone breathes near me in the elevator.
ALICE:
You build calluses. Or maybe you break them off. Em--use your fingers too. You know where.
SOLEDAD:
Holy shit.
ALICE:
There it is. There's that little inhale you do when you're imagining it.
SOLEDAD:
Bitch I'm not imagining--no. No. I mean--yes, obviously. I'm visual. Shut up.
ALICE:
I will not. (shaky breath) I trained her for months, Soledad. Months. I used flashcards. She has a schedule. She tracks her own orgasms on a shared spreadsheet.
SOLEDAD:
You made a dashboard?
ALICE:
With graphs. Pie charts. One tab is called "Alice's Moods, Correlated to Em's Performance." It's color-coded.
SOLEDAD:
I'm sorry. Is she a sub or your fucking intern?
ALICE:
Why not both? Ohh--god yes, curl them. Good girl.
SOLEDAD:
Jesus. Okay. Alright. Wait. How often does she--like--just... crawl under?
ALICE:
Sometimes I wake up to it. Once, I rolled over during a Zoom call and she was already there. I didn't know. I nearly screamed. But then I didn't. I just--spread my legs and muted myself.
SOLEDAD:
This is the weirdest TED Talk I've ever heard.
ALICE:
She would do one, too. "How to Pleasure Your Executive Without Getting Coffee." Slower, Em. Look at me. Look at me when you do it.
SOLEDAD:
What the fuck is wrong with me. I'm--ugh. I'm like... curious.
ALICE:
You always were. I saw the way you looked at me in college. You thought I didn't notice? The party at Katya's? You were gonna kiss me on the roof.
SOLEDAD:
Oh my god. Don't you fucking dare bring that up right now--fuck--
ALICE:
Why not? You're wet already, aren't you? Just from listening? Em's got three fingers in me and you can't even keep your thighs closed.
SOLEDAD:
Fuck you.
ALICE:
You could. Come out and visit. I'll let you watch. Or help. Whichever gets you off first.
SOLEDAD:
I swear to god if you're joking--
ALICE:
I'm not. But you have to wear the ears.
SOLEDAD:
...The ears?
ALICE:
The bunny ears. And nothing else. It's tradition.
SOLEDAD:
I'm going to hell.
ALICE:
You're going to my loft. Bring lube. Em gets needy when there's company.
SOLEDAD:
I hate you.
ALICE:
Not for long. Faster, Em--let her hear me cum.
ALICE:
--so then I told them the wombat stays. Non-negotiable. He eats the bar, grows tits, puts on lipstick, and struts through a field of edible glitter. It's camp. It's iconic. It's deeply fuckable.
SOLEDAD:
Are you designing a candy bar or recruiting for your next orgy?
ALICE:
Why not both? Sugar and sex, babe. The brain doesn't know the difference. Em--tongue up. Use that edge--yes.
SOLEDAD:
Wait, say that again. About the brain.
ALICE:
What, that it can't tell the difference between calories and orgasms? It just wants to reward you for staying alive. Doesn't care how.
SOLEDAD:
You know, I wasn't going to bring this up--but that thing you said? About the brain not caring how it gets rewarded? That's exactly what I've been working on.
ALICE:
Good. I hope you're squirming. God, Em. Yes, your fingers too, come on, don't be shy.
SOLEDAD:
Shut up. Listen. What if pleasure itself--sexual, gustatory, whatever--could literally reshape the cortex? Faster than we thought.
ALICE:
It does. I'm proof. I was a bitchy intern with caffeine breath and now I cum when someone says "salience network."
SOLEDAD:
The... uh--shit, what was I saying? Right. Right. Salience network. Conflict monitoring. You moaned and my notes turned to soup.
ALICE:
Ohhh fuck me, that's it--yes, right there.
SOLEDAD:
Is that about the cerebellum or the tongue?
ALICE: