Boyfriend 2 1

Chapter 2: Boyfriend 2.1

*The fantasy continues. See Boyfriend 2.0 for reference.*

I wake up in a tangled haze of limbs and blankets, sore and gloriously contented from the night before. It takes me a moment to register that the morning's arrived, and when I do, I realize I'm all alone. Josh isn't in bed. Panic takes over me.

Oh my god. What if he knows? What if he's figured it out? I've been reconditioning him for only seven days and the changes aren't even subtle, he definitely knows. What was I thinking? God, I was so obvious. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, did I leave my laptop open last night? Is he looking through it right now? Watching 'Stage 1 of the Boyfriend Project?' Christ, I'm such an idiot. He knows. He knows and he's furious and he should be furious. I don't deserve him. Fuck, he's going to leave me, isn't he? Why'd I even do this? Why did I risk it? Everything was perfect, he was perfect, I had to go mess everything all up -

The door opens, and Josh comes walking in with a big mug of steaming coffee and a gentle smile on his face. "Hey Kait, morning. You looked too cute to wake up so I let you sleep in. Is that okay?"

Relief blooms in my chest, and I yank open the covers for him like an invitation. One he accepts happily, smothering me in kisses and smooches and

fuck

he's still hard, somehow. One thing leads to another and all of a sudden I'm crying out his name again as he takes me again, even harder than he did last night. He growls when he's on top now, something he's never done before. I love it. It's primal, like something else is brought out of him when he sees me flat on my back, legs spread just for him.

Or when I'm on all fours, bent over for him with my ass in the air.

Or when I'm looking up at him from my place on my knees, bobbing up and down on his cock and cleaning myself off him like the good girl I've always wanted to be.

Sex feels different. I can't chalk it up just to aggression or lust or any single hormone. It's like we're having sex for the first time all over again, but somehow even better. Rediscovering each other, feeling our pulses quicken with every stroke and thrust. The air between us feels literally charged with tension, tension that I don't remember feeling in

how

long already. He's usually so careful with me, like I'm made of glass, but today he's gripping my long dark locks of hair like handlebars for leverage as he fucks my mouth.

Even then, it's a gentle fuck. He's dominant enough to set the pace but careful not to make me choke or suffocate on his shaft. Even though I'd be perfectly willing to, especially for him. But he doesn't let me, so I try to be creative in other ways. Flicking my tongue across his glans, humming a little when I take him deep in my throat. I'm certainly no pornstar but I try my best to please my man. And he lets me know just how pleased he is with that bassy growl in the back of his throat. He never did that before. He used to be a silent lover, so focused on keeping himself contained and caring that he never ever let himself go.

Now, it's a different story. His hands grip my head like iron. Keeping me exactly where he wants as he cums, grating my name out as pulse after pulse of thick cum fills my mouth. It's all I can do to swallow everything he gives me - you wouldn't have believed he'd just came seven hours earlier - and even then I have to wipe up the few rivulets that end up dripping down my chin, giggling as he hands me tissues.

The coffee is cold by the time we're done with round two. I don't mind. We snuggle for an irresponsibly long time, warm and relaxed from the rush of endorphins flooding our systems, all my fears from earlier melt away. Everything is fine. Everything is great. I haven't messed anything up. The secret is still safe. Our relationship is still safe. Josh is still perfect.

But he could be even better.

~~

"What's the auditory component you're using?" asks Jess. She's everything I'm not. She's tall, long-limbed, busty, blonde - in those black jeans and low-cut graphic tee, she looked like a cover model for some alt-punk clothing line. If she wasn't my best friend, I might've even been jealous. But she's also a kickass engineer, extremely capable with hardware in ways a software girl can only dream of being.

I click around some of the designs I've been using, pulling up specs. "I don't know, honestly. I scavenged it from some Sony headset I found in a Goodwill. Does it matter?"

"Seriously?" She smirks and leans over, flashing a deep V of pert cleavage at me. I'm no lesbian, but damn. "Does it matter if I'm trying to play a set on a Collings or a shitty Yamaha? Of course it matters. Your signal's only going to be as effective as the delivery method you're using. You should really put more thought into the hardware."

"I know, I know. But I've just had to spend so much time working on the software for this thing, getting all the impulses to line up right for subconscious penetration. And I still don't even know if any of this works or not." Technically, that's true. While Josh is now 100% more dynamite in bed than before, I don't know for sure if I've had anything to do with it. Correlation isn't causation. So I'm not lying to her. Strictly speaking.

"Of course it'll work. You're a genius at this stuff." She sends me a few links and my phone chimes at the notification. "Here's my recommendations. These parts should do the trick better than your Goodwill headset speaker. Nothing too pricey, budget picks only. And they're the same voltage as what you're using already. I don't know why you care so much about having these be wireless only, does it really matter if you're just prototyping?"

"I think it matters," I say defensively. But not too defensively or she'll think something is up. "The last thing I need is someone tripping over the cord and breaking my only prototype. And it's a small addition and it'll be nice not to worry about this down the line. Not like I know if there'll be a 'down the line.' I don't even know if anyone's going to want something like this."

"Are you kidding? Everyone's going to want one. Solving addictions, improving mental health, positive thinking - this is digital gold, girl. If these ever get market ready, I'm first in line." She taps the laptop thoughtfully, a pensive look scrawled over her face. "I just don't know how you're ever going to get to test this. The university's going to make you go through a hundred yards of red tape to even let you talk about this thing, for liability reasons alone. Let alone human testing."

"Leave that to me," I tell her with a smile. "I know a guy."

Jess rolls her eyes at that, but she knows me too well to pry any further. "Fine, have it your way. Just keep me in the loop, okay? And how's your boy toy doing? Haven't seen him around in a while."

"Oh, Josh? He's doing great. We're doing great. Never better."

~~

The warmth of the Starbucks envelopes me with the velvet comfort of a quilted blanket. Tinny saxophone blares over the ceiling speakers as I push my way through the crowd to join the line. There's a bunch of posters and ads up for the newest macchiato abomination they put out this season, but I just want my latte. And one other thing of course.

It's five minutes until I'm at the front of the line, walking up to the familiar handsome face at the counter. Josh has been working here for two years now, since graduating with his history degree. It doesn't earn much but it's something at least, and he seems to like it enough. I know some of the customers like him too. There's no shortage of single (or not) college girls who compete for his attention with low-cut tops and pulled-up yoga pants. I don't blame them, of course. He's got the chiseled jaw and shoulders that can fill the fuck out of a flannel shirt. And it's easy to get drawn into his natural friendly charm - an asset for his job, but easily misinterpreted as flirting. I did, at first. So did Stacy, his bubbly little coed barista coworker, but we all laughed it off after that. I'm sure plenty of the girls that come up to him every day make the same mistake too. I don't mind, Josh is too good of a guy for infidelity to even ever cross his mind. But it makes me want to stake my claim anyways. I want to give him a hug and a kiss but since we're in public I settle for a smile. "Hey stranger."

His smile broadens. "Kait! You just made my day. The usual?"

"That'd be great! Hey, what time do you think you'll be off today?"

"Maybe five-ish? Is that okay?"

I'll admit, I pout at him a little. "Five-ish? You sure you can't get off a little earlier?"

He actually blushes a little at the entendre. God, he's cute. But he makes a nice recovery and manages to say, "Well, I guess Stacy's here..."

Stacy rolls her eyes but smirks. "Fine, but you owe me one."

"You're the best," I tell her, and I mean it. Every girl needs a wing woman like that in her life.

"I know," she tells me. But there's a look she gives him when he turns to a customer, an appreciative look that lingers just a little too long. A flash of something in her eyes, something that isn't exactly jealousy but isn't not jealousy either. Maybe I'll have to be more careful than I thought.

"Can't wait to have you home," I say to Josh, emphasis on the

home.

"Mm? Same," he replies. He's clearly happy but also, a little perplexed. "What's this all about anyway?"

I make something up on the spot. It's one of my talents. "Oh, I found this recipe on YouTube, you're going to love it. It's got capers and dill, and I'm going to pick some lemons up from the grocery store." He perks up at that already, which is already adorable, but I lean in and give him the bedroom eyes. "And I have a surprise for you."

"Oh?" Now he's

really

intrigued. "What sort of surprise?"

"I can't tell you that," I say with a wink and a smile. "It's a surprise, silly."

~~

"Mmmfphhh fuck me FUCK I'm cumming so hard fuckfuckfuckfuck fuck me harder daddy, Daddy please, please Daddy fuck your little slut- "

I've got four fingers working themselves in and out of my leaking cunt as fast as I can, a towel laid down on the seat of my chair to catch the juices. The headset blinks red as lies dormant on my desk, a thick bundle of cables and wires hooking it up to my laptop. The worst genres of porn pour through my screen, painals and skullfucks and cuntbusting and more. Screams, moans, sobs merge into a hedonistic babble that I soak up like music. This is the stuff I tried to pull myself away from back in undergrad, just to give me a chance of finishing my degree instead of spending all day fingering my cunt. No, that's a lie. It's worse. I hadn't meant to go this far. I'd started with basic stuff - almost vanilla, really. Some light choking, some pile-driving, a couple scenes where the girl gets picked up and slammed against the wall, folded up like a chair and fucked until her eyes roll up to the back of her head...

But I need an insane amount of content to feed into the headphone's encoders - more videos to turn into subsonic signal. More scenes, more variety. So I let the recommended playlists autoplay, and the porn rolled in. And it rolled darker. Depraved. Disgusting, even. I watch transfixed as a redhead on spring break chokes down an 8-inch cock thicker than her arm, eyes shimmering with tears as the stud pulls her head forward by her hair. Spit and mascara streaming down her rosy cheeks. A blonde built like a cheerleader strapped down spread-eagle by steel restraints on a rough wood floor. Three muscle-bound hunks laugh to each other as they resize her holes with vicious enthusiasm. The camera zooms in on the glassy, empty look in her eyes. *Fucking perfection.* I have to bite the back of my hand to stop myself from mewling.

And I remind myself that it's not like he's going to be watching these in his dreams or anything like that. That's not how the encoders work. He's receive suggestions, emotions, visual and auditory and *sensory* cues, but he won't experience these scenes perfectly. Not exactly. It gives a little wiggle room in terms of what I could use as input. Honestly, it's actually good to use more *extreme* media for reconditioning - it'll mean that the emotional signaling should come through more clearly, less likely to get jumbled up with other signals like *romance* or *intimacy.* It'll make this whole process much more efficient. A few nights at most.

That's what I tell myself, at least, with my fingers sunk into my sex down to the last knuckle. It's not like I actually *want* sex like this. That would be too much. Too extreme in real life. Far too extreme. I wouldn't actually want that.

This is just to push Josh along a little further. A little harder. He won't even notice. I don't want him to just be better for me, I want him to be better for himself. It's a good thing I'm doing. He'd thank me for it if he knew.

And then I'm not thinking at all, as I'm swept away to the dizzying heights of my next climax.

~~

"This is Kaitlyn Roberts, commencing stage 2 of the Boyfriend 2.0 project. Officially. Yay."

I look flushed in the webcam. Not obviously post-orgasmic, but it's not subtle. My hair's a bit of a mess and my cheeks are well past rosy. I clear my throat and try again. "Happy to say that stage 1 officially worked. By any and all standards, it was a resounding success. We saw clear...evidence that the targeted behavioral changes were satisfactorily successful. Very satisfactory. Yes. Ahem." My blush deepens and I shake my head. This is a scientific log, girl. Get it together. "So we're just going to push things a little further. Nothing drastic. We're going to continue with the same methodology, but I've changed the signals the subject will be receiving. They're going to be a little more...explicit, a little more *extreme*, but I'm not intending for him to actually reach that point. The new, stronger signals are just to push past the behavioral plateau that I've currently noted. I've ran the models, and the simulations say this should have intended effect, so I'm feeling pretty good about this. This stage shouldn't need very long. A few nights at most, going off of results from what we say from stage 1."

"And if this doesn't work, that's totally fine. We'll have discovered the limits of this technology, at least in its current state, and we can move on to different types of tests." I watch myself smile on the screen. "But I will say that I'm very, very hopeful about the results we're going to see from stage 2, and I'm confident that we're going to see some pretty remarkable success from this."

End recording.

~~

Dinner is fine. It's not great, seeing as how I spent two more hours than anticipated getting myself off to misogynist filth. The chicken is a little rubbery from having the flame too high and the pasta is a little tough from being boiled for not quite enough time. But Josh is a sweetie and eats up like it's the best thing he's ever had. Maybe he thinks it is. He's not exactly a picky eater, and his version of cooking is whipping out the instant mashed potatoes.

Do I feel a pang of guilt about editing him without consent? Maybe a little, yes. There's a part of me that wonders if just talking this out with him would've been easier.

But the thing is, the stuff I want isn't the stuff he can do. It would be like asking a fish to write poetry. I might be able to convince him to try, but he wouldn't enjoy it. And he would be too delicate for me to really enjoy it either.

No, this was a lot easier. This way we'd both reap the rewards of my long hours of research. This was the other side of things - I'd spend so long at the lab and at my computer I'd feel bad for not spending more time with him. For not doing more for him. For us.

In a sense, this was just a way for me to make it up to him.

"What are you thinking about?" His eyes are placid but a little concerned.

"Sorry about that." I laugh it off. "Just spending too much time at lab. You ready for your surprise?"

"Absolutely." The concern goes away as his eyes positively light up - god, I love him.

"One sec-" I dash into the kitchen and return with a brown paper bag. "-and surprise!"

"Oh my gosh!" he exclaims. "I've always wanted a paper bag!"

"It's a wine, you idiot!" I mime throwing it at him, and he mimes cowering in fear. "I thought we could celebrate your pay raise tonight."

"I totally forgot, actually."

"Well, I didn't. So we're celebrating tonight. And maybe, if you're really good, I can...do a few other things for you. How does that sound? "

"Kait, you're the best girlfriend ever."

~~

Most of the bottle is gone by the time I put him to bed. I'm feeling it too, I'm no heavyweight when it comes to drinking. But he's had a long day, and I poured him some hefty glasses. He's snoring five minutes after he hits the mattress.

I wash up and strip down, double checking that he's sound asleep before booting up my laptop. The new files uploaded successfully, the screen informs me with a dozen completed progress bars and update windows. All subroutines encoded and ready for deployment. It looks so harmless, a tiny little program like that. You'd never guess how many gigabytes of high-definition abuse porn had been squeezed down into that little sound file.

The headphones disconnect from my laptop with a quiet beep, the thick bundle of cables falling away easily. It's a heavy machine, not the prettiest gadget anyone's ever made. Jess would've made it look as sleek as an iPhone if I let her, but I'm not there quite yet. This is my toy. My baby. 100% me. I'm vain enough to be a little proud of that.

The headphones slip on over Josh's ears easily. I adjust the band so that it fits snug, the last thing I need is for it to come loose sometime during the night and startle him awake. The little speakers, improvements based on Jess's suggestions, switch on with a low, nearly imperceptible drone. Like a air conditioner, or a white noise machine. The nice thing was that as long as the headset was kept in place, Josh wouldn't wake up for the duration of the program. Something about the interactions with the brainwaves and REM cycles - that's something else I could probably patent for an easy fortune if I put enough time into researching it. But that's not my priority right now. I bite my lip as I watch my invention go to work, feeding him direct examples of my fantasies directly into his brain. It's a little arousing, and I don't know why exactly. Maybe it's the anticipation. The knowledge that once he wakes up in the morning, we're going to have the most mind-melting sex ever. It's enough to make a girl start rubbing her thighs together.

And maybe, just maybe, part of it is the fact that *I fucking built this*. My intelligence, my imagination did what no one else thought was even possible, and I was watching the proof unfold before me. My machine works. I didn't have any doubt of it in my mind now, and to watch it humming away, the subsonic drone working its magic, was somehow just as erotic as anything I'd watched earlier in the day. The sensation is empowering, energizing, and I couldn't...

Something brushes my knee and I jump back, afraid that something had gone terribly wrong. He'd noticed something, his hand was coming up to take off the headset and I'd have to explain something, or god help me, he was going through a seizure, something that shouldn't be physically possible from my-

It's none of those things. His erection is straining through the sheets, twitching against my leg, and I can't help but giggle. *Mm, so maybe he does like this a little after all.* Well, who am I to complain? I'm about to get in bed with him when another idea strikes me. A delicious, naughty idea.