Pop Music

Doctor Marcia Harden looked down at the thin sheet of transparent plastic slowly extruding itself out of the machine--the machine she'd built, to her own specifications, after months of painstaking and secret labor. It was all worth it, she decided. Every second of working and reworking complex chemical formulas, every minute of crafting precision-tooled parts, every late night of concealing the existence of the entire experiment from her assistant Colleen. It was all worth it, and the proof was right here--it worked! It actually worked! And to think, they'd called her "mad"!

They, of course, were the tiny invisible pixies with the faces of Ben Franklin and Isaac Asimov, the ones only she could see. Even now, they continued to call her "mad", mocking her with their objections, their so-called flaws in her brilliant scheme. But now, she had the answers for all of them.

"It'll never work," Franklin said. For some reason, he always had the voice of Marilyn Monroe, but she'd gotten used to that by now. "The chemical can induce a suggestible state, Marcia, but you know it breaks down too quickly in contact with oxygen. How long do you have to introduce it into the victim's bloodstream? A minute? Less?"

"She could always put it into an airtight cannister, spray her victim with it," Asimov replied. She'd always liked Asimov better, even if he did have a tendency to sprout tentacles with lion heads when he thought she wasn't looking. "It's a mind control drug, it won't matter if the victim knows they're being dosed. Marcia can just command them to forget later."

"The required dose is too large!" Franklin shrieked, a chorus of invisible laughter following his every word. "She can't avoid inhaling it herself! How do you just casually wander up to your potential lesbian sex slave while wearing a full bio-hazard respirator, huh? How do you hold them down for the five minutes necessary to spray a full dose into their nostrils?"

The lion heads snarled at Franklin while Asimov responded. Marcia waited patiently. She'd heard them argue like this countless times; she knew exactly where they were heading with it, and she was waiting to interrupt with her masterstroke. "Then perhaps an injector? Find some way of putting it into liquid form, and--"

"Liquid form? Liquid form?" Franklin snorted. "The chemical doesn't liquify until it hits -175 degrees Celsius. Inject that into your sex slave, they'll die long before they can frig you to orgasm."

"Maybe you're right," Asimov said, his tentacles drooping in sorrow. "Maybe there's just no way to make practical use of her discovery. She'd have to be quite, quite mad to keep trying."

"Oh, very mad," Franklin said. "Very very very mad."

Marcia knew where the conversation was headed next. They were going to keep repeating "mad", over and over, while swooping around her head until she got dizzy. Then they'd sing show tunes. But this time, she had the answer. This time, they'd have to admit she was sane. "Mad, am I?" she snapped out. "Could a madwoman have done this?" She pointed to the machine.

The pixies looked at each other. "What is it, then?" Franklin asked cautiously.

"The perfect delivery vehicle for my mind control drug," Marcia exclaimed triumphantly as she snatched a sheet of plastic from the mouth of the device. "Each one of these sheets of plastic has a full dose of the drug, cunningly sealed into dozens of airtight bubbles of thin plastic to keep it safe from the depredations of that cruel beast, Oxygen. The gas is odorless, colorless...nobody would even suspect its presence. I can leave it anywhere, and nobody would take it to be anything more than plain, ordinary bubble wrap."

The pixies seemed frozen in confusion. Marcia took advantage of the silence to press her case. "Don't you see?" she said. "It's a well-known, proven psychological fact! Nobody can resist squeezing the bubbles on bubble wrap! My victims will see the sheet of plastic. They'll pick it up, little knowing that each bulge contains the seeds of their eventual enslavement as my sapphic sex toy...and then..." She squeezed the bubble tightly, feeling it slowly swell up around her fingers, until finally...POP! The bubble exploded with a satisfying crack.

"That's only a small dose, of course," she said. "Not nearly enough to make my potential victim as docile and suggestible as they're going to be. But that's the beauty of it! Colleen won't suspect that she's just inhaled a potent hypnotic drug. She'll just remember the feel of the bubble wrap under her fingers, the delicious sound it made as it popped, and then..." Marcia squeezed again. "I've done studies, you see. They called me mad for studying bubble wrap's effect on the human psyche, but I proved it! Nobody can resist the timeless allure of bubble wrap." She felt the pocket of gas collapsing under her fingers once more, heard the thrilling snap of its violent expulsion into the atmosphere. "Nobody."

"Um..." Franklin seemed concerned, for the first time since he'd begun manifesting in her bedroom late at night, back when she was sixteen and just beginning to fantasize about having an obedient lesbian sex slave. "But if it's...I mean, shouldn't you...but how do you...?" He paused. Marcia was almost worried; she'd never seen her invisible pixie antagonists so confused. "You just dosed yourself," he said at last.

She looked down at her own hand, still tightly gripping the sheet of bubble wrap. A thrill of horror ran through her veins for a moment, but she calmed herself down. "It's only a couple of bubbles," she said. "A tiny amount, really. I could probably even squeeze another one with no ill effects."

She wished she hadn't said that. As soon as she said it, she envisioned her hand sliding along to a different bubble, feeling its fullness under her fingers, the way it gave only slightly to her touch. She pictured the wonderful way that the plastic would warp, ever so slowly, as the pressure of her grip increased, every second bringing closer the moment when the resistance of the material would give out and it would--

POP! Marcia twitched in panic. She hadn't even realized she was doing it until she'd done it. "No harm done," she muttered to herself. "It's still not enough of the drug to actually affect me. I just need to keep the risks involved fully in mind, and stop now before it gets out of hand." But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help working out just exactly how much of the drug she could inhale before it would begin affecting her intelligence and libido. The math was simple for a genius like her, the conclusions inescapable, the temptation irresistible. "One more won't hurt," she whispered to herself.

She moved to the next bubble in the row, squeezing it slowly, trying to prolong the pleasure. After all, this was going to be the last one she popped. She didn't want to let the moment go by too quickly. Ben and Isaac were protesting, both of them babbling about some experiment she'd run and how she needed to set down the bubble wrap now, but their voices were dim and distant next to the beautiful sound of the bubble bursting in her grasp.

"Okay," Marcia told herself sternly, "that's enough. Another few bubbles and you're definitely risking mental impairment, and that's the last thing you want to--" POP! She looked at her own hands in a mixture of shock and amazement. She hadn't even realized she was doing that one. Her hands had just moved automatically, as though driven by some innate need to feel and hear the bubble wrap bursting in her hands, bubble by bubble.

"It's okay!" Marcia shouted at her invisible tormentors, preempting the mocking laughter she knew must be forming in their minds. "I am still entirely in control of the situation! I just need to be a little more careful, that's all." POP! "A little bit more aware of the psychological tendency--" POP! "--to continue squeezing every bubble on a sheet of bubble wrap until you've popped each and every last--" POP!

Marcia looked down at the sheet of plastic in sudden, mortal terror. Frantically, she tried to calculate just how much of the will-sapping drug she'd inhaled in the last few minutes, but the details of the formula eluded her. She looked up at her pixies, her old friends and old enemies, but they were blurring around the edges and their orbits of the room had taken on a wobbly, drunken quality. Marcia's panic increased. She'd known that her mind would be affected by the drug, but how could that have caused the invisible fairies only she could see to be affected too?

Blearily, she stared down at the bubble wrap again. "It's just a matter of...of applying scientific reasoning," she told herself. "I have information that my victims..." Marcia's train of thought derailed for a moment as she lost herself in the fantasy of Colleen, her eyes blank and glassy, staring vacantly into the distance as she masturbated helplessly. And then Marcia would whisper in her ears, filling them with new certainties, turning the mindless lust that the drug caused into purposeful sexual abandon...POP!

Marcia looked down to realize she'd popped another bubble. "I have to think!" she cried, uncomfortably aware of how much harder it had gotten to do exactly that. "I am a scientist! My mind...my mind is superior...got to think, think, think..." She focused her attention on the facts. "The drug. I know the drug is contained in the bubbles. I should be able to, to..." But those very same facts that she'd coldly cited in support of her plan now pressed against her weakening mind with chilling certainty. Nobody she'd tested had ever been able to resist the absurd, childish temptation of a roll of fresh bubble wrap. Nobody.

She felt another bubble collapse under her fingers, and the satisfaction of it seemed even stronger this time. "You're mad," the pixies warbled, their voices slurred as their bodies became indistinct. "You came up with a way to deliver the drug that nobody could resist, but you forgot to come up with a way to resist it yourself! You're going to turn yourself into a mindless, horny sex toy, a slutty horny fuckslave, a--" Marcia felt as much as heard another POP! The pixies slowly melted like candlewax, their words turning into an incoherent burble.

Marcia was glad they were gone. It meant there were fewer distractions from the wonderful sensations coursing through her body. She popped another half-dozen bubbles, shivering in sensual delight at the feel of the plastic tearing beneath her touch and the musical sound of the bubbles bursting. It felt good, she realized. Such a simple pleasure, but so easy to repeat. All she had to do was keep her fingers moving, and there was always another bubble to pop. And another after that, and another after that...she found herself giggling, and couldn't stop.

The row eventually ran out, but there was another after that, and another after that. By the time she'd gotten that far, Marcia's free hand was already rubbing her nipples through her clothing. She couldn't help herself; it was so hard to think, and there were so few distractions now from the feelings of aching need flooding her sleepy mind. The bubbles distracted her, but it only took one hand to pop those, and her other hand seemed to have a mind all its own. Which was more mind than Marcia had now, she thought with another sleepy giggle. Everything seemed so happy and funny now.

A few rows after that, and Marcia's clever hand had found her needy pussy. Marcia was so glad her hand knew what to do; all she could think about was popping bubbles and laughing and moaning and whimpering. But her hand knew just the right way to rest between her thighs, knuckle pressing against clit and fingers sliding into slick and needy cunny, and she felt her other hand pop faster in pace with her arousal. And every POP! made her even hotter, somehow...

POP POP POP! Marcia's left hand moved automatically down from one row to the next, but she didn't even notice anymore. Everything had become sensation now, and a tiny streamer of drool trickled out of the corner of her mouth as she realized just how wonderful sensation could be. Her fingers worked non-stop, both on the left and the right hand, each one finding her more pleasure in its own way. The bliss felt like it was slowly filling up her head, submerging each thought in a sticky pink pool of liquid ecstasy, and Marcia didn't miss them because she didn't know what she was missing because she didn't know anything anymore except for the POP! sounds getting faster as her body built to its final and ultimate pleasure...Marcia practically screamed as she came.

She ran out of bubbles somewhere around her third orgasm. By then, she didn't mind; it just meant that she could use her other hand to play with her heavy tits. Her eyes stared straight ahead, glazed and empty as she felt the pleasure rip through her once more. She'd have known it was her fourth orgasm, if she still knew how to count that high, but all she really registered anymore was that it felt good and that she felt good and that she wanted to keep feeling good. She felt herself teasing her nipples, felt her fingers sliding over her clitty, but none of it made any sense as words. It was all just pleasure, mindless and blank and empty. She wanted it so bad, now.

She wasn't even aware of the sound of the door opening and closing; it was distant and unimportant next to the feel of her own mounting arousal. She heard Colleen's words, but only on a subconscious level; her conscious mind had been submerged far beyond thought by the drugs coursing through her bloodstream. If she had been able to think, she might have been quite astonished by what she heard from the assistant she'd thought to be so innocent. And yet, though she couldn't think about her assistant's words, she could feel the truth of them. It was like a certainty, a bone-deep instinct that supplanted thought and became a new and irresistible core of her being.

She didn't need to think to kiss Colleen. She didn't need to think to suckle at Colleen's full, hard nipples. It felt like bliss, knowing without thinking, and Marcia felt a dreamy warmth settle into her as she realized she already knew what she had to do next. "I must obey you, Mistress," she whispered mindlessly, sinking to her knees in front of Colleen's warm and musky pussy and beginning to lick.

THE END