WARNING: Contains incest!!! However, it's more themed on sci-fi/comedy than the incest. I wrote this some time ago, realizing later it was too similar to The Accidental Slut. I wasn't going to publish it, but what the hell? I essentially wrote in one swipe, anyway. I gave it an edit and it likely needs more; just doesn't deserve it. :) Cheers!
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"Phillip says he thinks he's done it. Says he's even willing to bet a month's wages it will work."
I looked at my brother with dead eyes, as I was feeling pretty skeptical. I knew Phillip was hyper-smart, nerdy as fuck, and maybe even a touch autistic, but I didn't think for a minute he was going to produce some magical piece of technology that would cure me of my problem. I told Mark as much, as he texted his friend back and forth.
Phillip had been Mark's best friend since middle school, and in the many years we've known him, he's invented many things. Some stuff was just software, like a video stabilizer program he wrote that cleaned up old videos. He also made a device that read one's eye movements accurately and responsively. It synced with computers, allowing the user to have control with eye movement alone. He actually gave that everyone, open-source, and hundreds of paraplegics now use his software across the globe. There was no question Phillip was a genius, but still... he wasn't a wizard.
"Come on, Michelle. Is it really gonna kill you to try?"
"Fine, whatever. What do I have to do?"
"I dunno, I'll ask." Mark tapped at his phone and zipped another text to his friend, before turning back to me. "I can't believe he actually finished it so fast."
"He hasn't done anything, Mark. He might have something, but it doesn't mean it will work."
Last weekend, while Phillip was staying over with Mark working on some computer project, I'd come home in a panic. While at work, I received a text from Amy that I would likely have to present the final argument to my Ethics class. She thought she was coming down with laryngitis. If not for all the social interaction, this class would probably be my favorite college course, but too often the professor had us making oral arguments.
The last time I spoke in front of the class, I practically passed out. I hated - absolutely hated - public speaking. I'm not sure why I am so shy and lack confidence. One would say I'm an attractive woman. I have a thin enough waist and have fairly long and toned legs. Good genes from Mom, with curves where it mattered. Amy is shorter, with no curves at all, yet she's a lot more confident in a public setting than I am. If she couldn't do the presentation, it was up to me, as we were partners on this project.
So I came home freaking out, almost hyperventilating at the thought of embarrassing myself once again in front of my peers. I had until Friday to get ready, if Amy wasn't going to be able to do it. As I explained this to Mark and Phillip, who were home at the time, it was Phillip who said he thought he could create a quick fix.
"How exactly would you do that?" I had asked.
"I've been working with my neurology professor - you know, the dean of the department - on impulse behavior, and discovered that the actions of rats could be trained - well, rather they could be directed - through a combination of light and sound triggers. We actually did preliminary tests on people and -"
"Oh, come on!" I protested. I didn't often call bullshit on Phillip, but I did plenty of times with my brother, so I was well-practiced. "You can't begin to convince me that some experiment you have going with a rat is going to be able to CURE my problem."
Phillip paused, reeling back a bit. "Well, I suppose I can't promise you that, but I was going to say it could change the way you deal with the triggers that cause your anxiety." Phillip began drifting in a tangent of science-technobabble, when he finished with, "... so the program only targets the prefrontal cortex. Essentially, in layman's terms... it stimulates that part of the brain which controls one's impulse. In this regard, we have trained rats to not fear predators, for instance."
I was crossing my arms, shaking my head. I may have been taking classes that weren't as complex or science-driven as Phillip, but I was no fool. Phillip appeared insulted that I wasn't believing him. Too bad.
He huffed at me and said, "Look, I don't have to help you, but I am just saying that all creatures have certain behavior patterns, and we all react to our environment in certain ways. I'm working on a method to alter the way we process the information in our surroundings, allowing people like you, or me, or anyone, to overcome our personal mental challenges. Our blocks, if you will."
I still wasn't convinced. Phillip slowed his speech down and tried to explain further, though I didn't think anything he could say would convince me. "Say, for example, Mark has a fear of heights and it prevents him from going on roller coasters. By dropping his inhibitions, essentially making him a bit 'numb' to his environment, we could temporarily change his attitude about it. If successful, he would go on the roller coaster following the treatment, and then finally experience having faced what he previously feared."
"So you're saying, you would have me go through this treatment, and I wouldn't be nervous when I gave my speech?"
"If everything works as I think it will, yes. I've already been working on the thing, I just have to make some alterations. See, there are four distinct brainwave patterns with humans, and this one affects a subject when they're in..." Phillip paused, aware his words were going way my head. "Oh, fuck it, it doesn't matter. In a word, you'll just look at screen, with the headphones on. Are you willing?"
"Sure, but how are you going to have this ready by Friday?"
"Shouldn't be a problem."
And here we were, just hours before my speech. Phillip had arrived and set up his laptop on the kitchen table. "You sit right here," he pointed. Without offering too much instruction, Phillip told me to keep my eyes on the screen until the audio in the headphones finished. "It'll last about fifteen minutes," said Phillip.
At first, it sounded like distant screeches and scratches, a static of sorts, and then more like sounds of nature. I thought I could hear voices, too, but just barely. I looked at the screen. It appeared to be a sequence of solid colors, fazing in unusual patterns and shapes, but it kept me focused, as the noises in the headphones faded in and out incrementally. Or perhaps the visual sensation made me lose focus? I couldn't tell. In what felt like only seconds had passed, Phillip lifted the headphones off. "How are you feeling, Michelle?"
"Fine. Uh, are we done already?"
"Yup, I think so."
I looked to Mark. "What did you see, bro?"
"Nothing, really. Just you watching the screen, and listening to that." He pointed at the headphones that Phillip placed back on the table.
"So how do we test this?"
"You got your speech ready?" asked Phillip.
"Really? You're going to what? Make me recite my speech it in front of you two?"
"Seems like a good idea, sis," said Mark. "I bet that would normally be tougher for you than a larger crowd. Just me and Phillip?"
I sighed. They had a point. I was embarrassed rehearsing alone, much less with anyone around me. Yet the idea felt right. "Okay, let me grab my papers."
A moment later, we met in the living room, Mark and Phillip sitting on either end of the couch, me facing them. I took a deep breath. "Do we still suffer from the effects of slavery? That is the question." I began to ramble into the script, keeping a rhythm to the presentation, emphasizing key points. Never had I been so fluid. I don't know why, but I just wasn't feeling nervous or intimidated in any way. As I spoke, I looked to Phillip and Mark to gauge their reactions.
It only took a moment to realize neither of them was fully invested in my speech, as they both were staring at my chest. I shifted my eyes down and noticed the problem. At some point, perhaps when I had fetched the report, the top button of my blouse unsnapped. Actually, it was the third one down, but the highest one that I had kept buttoned. My breasts are round and heavy, and they sometimes shift out of their shells, and the way my blouse had opened revealed a healthy amount of flesh. In fact, a hint of areola was pushing out of the bra.
I stomped my foot on the ground, and put my fists to my hips, crumpling the report in my hand. "Hey, you guys, I was actually doing great there and THIS is what you fucking focus on?" I waved at my chest. "Phillip, you didn't even notice how well I was doing with the speech, did you?"
Both Phillip and Mark blushed from being busted, but Mark giggled, "Come on, sis. Pretty rare for you to be bouncing those cans around. Couldn't help it!"
Mark often made fun of my "cans" as he called them. It's one reason I normally dress modestly. I didn't need him hounding me, but fuck him for not acknowledging my progress in my presentation. I pulled off the blouse entirely, my left tit almost halfway out of it's containment. "Fine. I'll start over. But pay attention this time!" I wasn't sure what got over me, but if they were going to treat me like meat, I might as well shame them for it, I thought. I rallied back into my ethics speech, this time doing better than the first, being already once-practiced. Believe it or not, even with my tits practically hanging out, the two actually listened to what I was saying. When I finished, they were both nodding and clapping.
"A well-crafted argument," said Phillip. "You did that yourself?"
"Yes... well, no," I said. "Amy and I did it together. We make a good team."
"For a moment there, I thought you were going to strip naked," said my brother.
"Why, would you have paid even better attention?" I laughed.
"I know I would have," joked Phillip.
"I suppose one more rehearsal would serve me well, right?" I unsnapped by bra, letting it hit the floor, before sliding my blouse and panties down together.
"Michelle!" screamed Mark.
"I don't care if you see," I insisted. "Just let me know how well I do on this speech. If I can do it in front of you two naked, I should be able to do it in front of the class, no problem, right?"
"Uh, oh," whispered Phillip, shifting his eyes to Mark.
"Oh, be quiet. Let me do this," I insisted.
I immediately went back into the speech. Now that I was twice practiced, I didn't need to use my script so much. This allowed me to poise myself, posing and using hand gestures in different ways, as I emphasized key points. I loved the fact that my brother and his friend were watching me naked. It was a thrill. I wrapped it up and once again, the two men cheered.
"You'll do great, sis, but don't you think you should get dressed now?"
