Dangers Of The Net

I am keeping a journal as a means of monitoring the effects of my Neural-Electro Therapy (NET). But first, a little background is necessary. My name is Dr. Marci Waters. I carry a Ph. D. in neuroscience and another in human psychology. My journey to a double doctorate has been fraught with resistance and hardship. Academia is a boy's club despite the graduation rate of female students. In order to achieve any kind of serious academic success, you must push and fight your way past a hundred man who want to see you fail simply because you are a woman.

Regardless of how modestly I dressed, I have had professors and advisers ask me out, as well as certain faculty who have solicited sexual favors from me, and even other colleagues who have placed their hands on my body. It certainly doesn't help that my mother has bestowed me ridiculous E-cup breasts, drawing stares from even the most distinguished names in psychology and neuroscience.

I have fought, complained, bitched, and named names, shaming the very men who would interfere with my lofty ambitions. I have had powerful men threaten to derail my doctorate program, and I have fought back, threatening legal action and intervention by the head faculty. No woman has ever achieved any form of success without being belligerent and determined. After eleven long years, I have achieved everything I set out to do in academia.

Now I have put together a team of scientists from the fields of psychology, psychiatry, neuropathy, electrical engineering, physics, and biology to design a course of therapy to alter detrimental human behavior. I'm the only woman among the group to my deepest chagrin, but these men will have to learn to work under a woman who actually has authority over them. If they think they can slack off or procure favor, they are gravely mistaken. Sometimes you have to be a complete bitch to get men to listen to you.

After brainstorming at great lengths with my male colleagues, I have determined that the vast majority of detrimental human behavior is governed by two factors: impulse and inhibition. Crime, mental illness, violence, addiction, sexual harassment—all self-destructive behavior can be traced back to impulse and inhibition. Every decision we make on a daily basis comes down to three major factors: habit, impulse, and inhibition. On habit we wake in the morning, clean and get dressed, eat breakfast, drive to work, et cetera. But each individual habit is governed by impulse or inhibition. How do we choose what car we drive, what food we eat, even what job we have? I believe that a lifelong series of impulses and inhibitions dictate all facets of our lives.

What creates a drug addict in the family while another sibling lives a normal life? How can someone from a healthy, well-adjusted family become a violent killer? We look for extenuating circumstances to explain why people are violent or destructive, but what if we could nip the problem in the bud? Millions of Americans grow up poor, without fathers, without opportunities, in violent settings, but what causes certain people to turn to crime and drugs while others thrive? Our team believes the answer is as simple as impulse or inhibition.

The level of impulse and inhibition is different in every human being and perfectly explains the variance psychologists and sociologists see in human behavior. Any researcher will tell you there is a correlation between poverty and abuse, and crime and drug addiction. But no researcher can predict whether a person will grow up to be a felon or a doctoral candidate. I think we finally can.

Whether a person steals, joins a gang, assaults someone, picks up the needle, menaces their female coworker—it all comes down to impulse and inhibition. In some of us, the drive to impulse is very high. We frequently do things without thinking. As I type, I light my fifth cigarette of the evening—a filthy habit I hope to break with NET and prove its efficacy. All decisions are informed in large part by impulse. The food we buy, the strangers we talk to, the TV shows or movies we watch. There is, how to explain this, a litmus test in our minds. On a subconscious level our brain will decide if a choice is something we want or not. Most people do not operate on a fully conscious level.

Inhibition is the yin to the impulse yang. For some people, they have a subconscious aversion to crime, drugs, and self destructive behavior. They do not entertain thoughts of degeneracy. On a subconscious level, their mind is repulsed by certain activity and phenomena. While these ideas may seem to you like little more than fanciful shots in the dark attempting to illuminate the complex labyrinth of human behavior, I feel I have lit the spark as it were.

I have devised a very simply process we believe can regulate the notions of impulse and inhibition in the human mind. The NET as we call it, is a lightweight headset that delivers a very mild pulse of electricity to the prefrontal cortex which is responsible for human impulse and inhibition. The NET delivers a frequency of very weak electric pulses that mimic the natural neural activity of the human brain. I believe when a patient suffers from high impulse or high inhibition that this pulse will restore a healthy amount of electrical activity to the prefrontal cortex.

The therapy regiment is non-invasive, affordable, and only requires brief visits with a technician over the course of a week. After an MRI, electrodes are attached to the scalp, and gentle electric pulses are generated from a regulator for twenty minutes until the brain begins to mimic the pulses. After a week, the brain should permanently mimic the new neural pulses.

As an aside, I already mentioned I hope this therapy can help me quit smoking. I am also interested to see if this helps with my aversion to social situations. Growing up, I was a deeply shy little girl, and that shyness continued into adulthood. While avoiding friends and parties helped my studies greatly, allowing me to achieve two separate PH. D.'s, I would like to hope NET can make me more outgoing in the future. The behavior of my male peers certainly did not help my introverted nature.

We have conducted preliminary tests on mice to great results, and tomorrow I will be the first human test subject for NET.

Having returned from my Net session, I feel warm and tingly. This is an expected, and not altogether, unpleasant side effect of the therapy. The artificial neural pulses contain the possibility of stimulating other parts of the brain, creating artificial feelings of pleasure or warmth or tingling. To my amazement, I can sit at my desk and not even reach for the cigarettes in my drawer. It's too soon to tell if this is real therapy or a placebo effect, but I remain hopeful.

Fanciful thoughts spin through the back of my mind too fast to actualize. I find myself opening my internet browser and looking at porn. I had virtually no sex drive as a teen or young adult, and now in my 30's I believe myself to be asexual. Is it possible this therapy has rid me of my absent sex drive? The applications could be innumerable to treat men and women with sexual dysfunction.

I open the porn website, and now I don't know what to search. I've never viewed pornography before, and I find the entire industry distasteful. Young women used as nothing more than a masturbatory aid for the eyes of horny men, destroying their bodies just to please male strangers they'll never meet. Unable to think of a single search term, I simply click a video on the front page.

The girl looks a lot less ridiculous than I expected. I expected the performer to have laughably large, obviously fake breasts the size of mine, except in the shape of basketballs. This girl is petite, though I find her bald vulva off-putting. The video never shows the man's face, only his lower half. God forbid a woman enjoys the man in the video. An entire billion dollar industry only aimed at one gender. The man has an impressive cock, though he struggles to become erect despite the presence of a beautiful, nude female. The man forces his cock into her mouth and chokes her with it. She drools and gags on his cock as he uses her face like a pussy. I am hypnotized by the display. My hand moves into my underwear which are already wet. I touch my sensitive clit, hard with arousal.

The man batters the girl with his cock, and I am hypnotized by the display. She is so helpless, just a toy to be wrapped around this man's savage meat. She can't resist him as he forces his entire length down her throat. There is drool everywhere, and her gagging sounds are guttural. My hips explode in a warm orgasm, the first of my life. I can't believe what I just watched. I close my browser immediately, but in seconds I have it opened again. I move to Amazon and search for dildos. An array of phallic toys decorate my computer desktop. I search for a good duration of time until I pick the perfect one. Not too big, not too small, shaped like an actual man's cock. At checkout, I impulsively spend $18 on one day delivery. Another side effect of NET perhaps? I have the money, but I need to monitor these developments.

At night I am home alone, and I feel like I'm going crazy. I think about the men in my group, the men who work for me and helped me develop NET. I have never considered any of them in a sexual manner, but now I crave something horrible. I want all their cocks in my mouth, gagging me. I want to be on my knees with my embarrassingly large breasts on display as each man forced his erection in my mouth like that young woman in the porn video from earlier. I stay up half the night finding videos of girls being abused in porn. They are not hard videos to find. Porn has become very violent. It is no wonder men enjoy seeing women degraded. I watch these young girls, some must be no older than twenty years old, having their faces abused and tortured by cocks. They smile for the camera and have beautiful small bodies any woman in her thirties would envy, and these faceless men make them ugly with their cocks.

And it's not just their mouths. Their vaginas and assholes are similarly ruined by oversized cocks tearing into their softest places. I should be horrified by this treatment of women, but I am hypnotized by their abuse and degradation. I masturbate furiously as these women are sacrificed on camera, battered, gagged, fucked, and humiliated. Only at three in the morning can I finally stop myself and fall dead asleep from exhaustion.

The next day, I share my concern with Michaels, the technician on the project. I explain I have entered a state of hyper-sexuality and possible impulse shopping. He says side effects could be amplified in the beginning but would even out over time. Plus, an increase in libido could have endless commercial applications. We continue with the brief therapy session, and I return to my office.

By lunch, I have completed no work. I have locked myself in my office and perused porn all day. My only saving grace is a double-edged sword as my sex toy is discreetly delivered to my office in a nondescript brown box. I rip open the box and find a beautiful, beige cock waiting for me. I search for something filthy. The premise of the video is normal girls are picked up off the street and expected to perform in hardcore pornography for money. I penetrate myself furiously as these supposedly normal girls are turned into real life cum buckets by male pornstars. They whine, and cry, and are force fed nine-inch cocks, and I devour it like I have a tapeworm. The degradation is exquisite, these sweet, naive girls forced to perform like circus animals. Stripped of their dignity and stuffed air tight with porn-sized cocks.

I finally gain a reprieve from my volcanic libido as the lab decides to go out for drinks that night. Normally I never waste time or money drinking alcohol, but I need an obligation that keeps me away from a computer, so I join them for the evening. I fail at small talk at the bar, and quietly sip my seltzer water with lemon. All I can think about is those helpless girls being forced into prostitution. A flasher goes off in my mind as Dr. Ramstadt excuses himself to use the restroom. Without thinking, I follow him to the back of the bar and into the men's room. Inside, he is making use of one of the urinals. With no control over my body, I kneel next to him and pull his hips to me. He pisses down the front of my blouse before I take his chubby cock in my needy mouth.

Dr. Ramstadt is not an attractive man by any metric. He is fat, bald, almost seventy years old, and his face is chubby and bunched together. But I needed his cock in my mouth. I suck like I saw the pornstars suck, feeling his soft chubby cock harden in my mouth. He groans and puts a hand on my head as I fellate his erection. The door opens and quickly closes as someone catches us. I can't stop myself. I savor his bitter and salty cock. Finally, he fills my mouth with unpleasant cum, and I swallow like a little pornstar. He has no words for me, so I flee the bar. I can't face my male colleagues after having one of their cocks in my mouth.

That night I don't sleep at all as I consume violent and degrading pornography for eight straight hours, penetrating myself the entire time. Now I know what it's like to experience a drug addiction. I feel so amazing and alive. It sounds insane, but I feel like a porn queen. There's so much energy and pleasure to be had, and I spent a lifetime of missing out on it.

The next day, I enter the lab early and find Michaels setting up the NET. I flat out warn him that the therapy is too dangerous, and how I can't control my sexual impulses. He seems amused but doubtful about my claims. Michaels argues that if we stopped now, I could be trapped in a permanent state of elevated libido. I should continue the therapy until my neural activity evens out. It's impossible to know which course of action will temper my sex drive, but I decide to continue. After my session, I make to leave, but Michaels grabs my hand. I turn to find his cock hanging out of his trousers. I can't stop myself. I kneel and suck on his cock. He's much more aggressive than Ramstadt as he pushes into my throat, masturbating with my face. I choke and gag on his cock but take it dutifully. He finishes by blowing a sticky load down my throat, draining his balls inside me.

Instead of returning to my office, He starts up NET again and places it on my head. I don't resist. A deep dark part of me wants this. Some animal, lower brain part in my DNA wants to please men. Michaels returns ninety minutes later, and my thoughts are screaming by like fighter jets. He has gathered the other men in the lab. He explains to them that NET has destroyed my sexual inhibitions and how I'll do anything asked of me. I'm instructed to take my clothes off, and I obey. Now all the men can see the large bare breasts they imagined for years. Eager hands fondle my humiliating animal udders. They bend me over the desk, and someone enters me. My pussy is hot and wet with need. I need to live with a cock inside me.

They each take a turn inside me, cumming inside me, breeding me like an animal. I am suddenly so desperate to please them and procreate. I feel like my body is just a vessel for their offspring. My body vibrates with animal need. Even after the entire lab uses my body, I want more. I take turns sucking the cum slurry and vaginal juices off each of their cocks until they're hard again. I beg them to fill my cunt, to breed me until I serve my female purpose. They don't hesitate to comply, railing my tight, sensitive pussy and flooding me with so much cum that a large puddle has gathered on the floor. Eight men in total breed with me that morning.