Botched Genius

I was pleased with myself as I removed my new identity papers, credit card, and cash from the safe deposit box that I had set up nine months ago in anticipation of what had happened. While pleased I wasn't slapping myself on the back because it's what I expected of myself. You see, for better or for worse, I'm a fucking genius. A test pegged my IQ at 180, but I was trying not to do too well on it. Being a fucking genius has been – in my view – my best and worst characteristic since I was a child.

Before my fifth birthday I already had the vocabulary of a graduate student. My favorite nursery rhyme was my own version of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star:"

Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific!

Fain would I fathom thy nature specific,

Loftily poised in the ether capacious,

Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous.

My intellectual attitude, bordering on haughtiness, got my butt kicked in elementary school – especially since I was two to three years advanced – until the other kids figured out that I had the cleverness to get revenge on them and had no inner voice telling me if something was over-the-top.

Anyway, so here I was now, Brad Gensler, complete with driver's license and a fake recommendation letter from a previous employer. Although I got my Masters in Physics by the time that I was sixteen, I developed an interest in working with my hands and found that I had a talent for machining exotic materials to within a thousandth of an inch. They don't let just any clown put threads on beryllium copper pipe, for example, when it costs more than a hundred dollars a foot and the threads have to be ultra-precise. I worked two years as a master machinist and "that would be a good profession to pick up on now," I thought to myself as I emptied the safe deposit box. A job in physics would be too high profile.

With my new identity and a one day audition where I showed what I could do, I quickly got a job as a master machinist. I found a small apartment that was more than reasonable, bought a used car, and went looking for pussy – something that I hadn't had in months and that I missed so badly that I was trembling just thinking about it.

While I didn't mind paying for pussy, it was more fun to hunt it. I went to a local meat market and got lucky with Sarah in two hours and six minutes. Well, it wasn't really luck since I had a technique that rarely failed if the woman had any slut tendencies (why would she be at a meat market if she didn't?), one that had actually been scientifically proven to work. The steps are simple to say, harder to execute: approach, show value, attract, rapport, hard-to-get, extract.

Once, in a low key manner, that I had impressed Sarah with my humor and intellect, I turned my back to her slightly, and broke eye contact. When she asked me questions, I did not appear anxious to answer them, and in fact she had to repeat two of them because I feigned that I didn't hear them. I talked slowly. Once she took on the role of pursuer I acted shy but completely in to her, including once chuckling "Is it possible that a plasma hot chick like you could be interested in me?"

Sarah turned out to be perfect for a first fuck in months. She had a craggy sloppy cunt and big sensitive nipples, and best of all she was really anxious to please – and please me she did. My dick was red and sore, and my balls ached, by the next morning. What a nice piece of ass, able to satisfy my normally constant urgings for a couple of days.

After two weeks of picking up a new slut every third day I decided that it was time for a relationship. I like pickups, but a regular piece is better if it's prime. You don't get prime relationship material at meat markets, but you do in health clubs. The approach is different in health clubs too, and you need time.

Since the job I had was piecework, and since I made decent money just doing my quota, I only had to work about four hours a day at my machinist job, more only on special occasions such as when there were rush projects. This gave me plenty of time to join two different health clubs. I was able to determine within two weeks when it was optimum booty time in each venue and adjust my schedule accordingly.

I wasn't looking for pretty faces – although that certainly would be a great bonus. What I was looking for was someone who previously obviously had a great body and was making a concerted effort to get it back to the way that it was. This was my goal for a number of reasons. First, that would give me the opportunity to really charm them and endear them to me since I knew just how to play a combination of unwavering encouragement and tough love; second, women in that position would be most available; and third, I was most interested in a woman's body first, then intellect, then pretty face.

I had great success at Planet Fitness, having met three great prospects within the first two weeks. One – Connie – was a little "over-qualified" but since I think that I'm better than anyone else I focused most of my attention on her. It was only after constructing a perfect progression and with what appeared to be reciprocal interest on her part that I found out that she was married. She never wore her rings during workouts, and the first time that we went out together for a drink after a workout one night she was wearing what had every appearance of engagement and wedding rings on her left hand. I asked about them.

"Yes, I'm married," she said with a diabolical grin while resting her hand on mine; "but I want you to understand that if my attraction to you grows from what is a great start that it won't make any difference to our relationship."

That was NOT what I wanted to hear. Even though I consider myself better than everyone else, what I don't do is fuck married women – my past history precludes me from doing that, as does my most moral and unwavering ethical precept – you always keep your word, especially when it comes to sex.

While I didn't immediately terminate my "date" with Connie, and acted normally for the next half hour, I cut things short. I did give her a kiss on the lips while squeezing her because she looked so fucking delicious, but it was definitely a "good-bye" kiss.

"Damn shame," I growled to myself when we parted. Not only was she a consummate cock-stimulator but now it meant that I had to cool it at Planet Fitness for a while. I quelled my disappointment by finding a call girl that looked a little like Connie and paid for an overnight visit. Even though the three fucks over the ten hours that we kept company were with condoms, they were highly enjoyable since in my mind I was fucking Connie.

Since I had to at least temporarily give up on the two other women of interest at Planet Fitness to avoid Connie, I started more serious looking at L. A. Fitness, the second health club that I had joined. While my initial two week review there did not turn up any good prospects, I made a more diligent examination and found two possibilities. The first wore her wedding rings – she had forgotten she had them on since they interfered with her workout – the second time that I interfaced with her. Although I remained very friendly with her, that ended my interest. The second woman I only came across when I went at an odd time. Her name was Sharon, and she had all of the necessary things that I was looking for, without being "over-qualified."

Sharon was recently divorced, no kids, two years older than I was, about ten pounds overweight, and determined to get back to her optimum weight. While she had a fairly challenging job, getting in shape – and the weight loss that it would entail – seemed to be her primary goal in life.

It was obvious that if Sharon was ten pounds lighter that her body would not be just "smokin' hot" but "plasma hot." She was also clearly bright, and the fact that her face was completely ordinary didn't bother me in the least.

I modified my work schedule to be at the health club the same times that Sharon was, and we shortly became workout partners, and we both adjusted our schedules so that they completely meshed. I encouraged and complimented her while at the same time refusing to let her beg off when she shouldn't have, even one time bringing her to tears. It was the night that I brought her to tears with my tough love that our relationship changed from a repressed sexual one to a no holds barred one.

I comforted Sharon when she sobbed. After she calmed down I apologized. "I'm really sorry I was so hard on you Sharon; I guess I pushed 'tough love' too far."

"No...you were right Brad. I shouldn't have tried to wimp out. It's just that it's so hard to try and get my body to look halfway decent again."

"Sharon, you're way more than halfway decent already – in fact a light year more," I replied staring into her still slightly teary eyes. She smiled; I gave her a quick kiss; that was all I could do since we were still at L A Fitness.

"Would you like to get dinner after we shower?" I asked.

"Come to my house and I'll make it for you," she said, her eyes suddenly turning from teary to smoldering.

I followed her to her house. We were inside no more than seconds when we went after each other. We pawed each other naked within a few minutes. I turned her upside down and held her pussy at the level of my mouth and started tormenting her clit with my tongue and lips as she did her best to suck my rock hard flagpole while she played with my testicles. After she quivered so hard with an orgasm that I almost dropped her, I turned her right-side-up, picked her up, carried her to the couch in her living room, planted her ass on the cushions while holding her legs apart, and buried my cock in one thrust.

I was banging down into her sweet snug pussy as she grabbed her own tits and massaged them. The sight of her manipulating her own mammaries while licking her lips at me as I stroked in and out was too much, and I blew my wad in record time. No matter, she had her second orgasm as soon as the first squirt flushed her vaginal walls.

By the time that we separated and came down from our climaxes, we were both sweaty. We took a shower together, playing with each other's' parts, and ate a simple meal, still naked. Then we "watched" a movie, which consisted more of me sucking her tits and she playing with my balls, until we were both ready for another round. We retired to her bedroom and fucked each other to sleep.

Within two weeks I had moved into her house but only after we had both committed to being exclusive. I really enjoyed living with Sharon. She was intelligent and fun, and one of the best sex partners I had ever had. Also, within five months of when we started living together her body had returned to the plasma-hot version of its earlier years. That was both good and bad.

It was good because she was even more fun to fuck and play with.

It was bad because she got lots of male attention; and it was worse because she seemed to really bask in it.

Because of my history I have issues with trust. Also, unlike most geniuses, I am attuned to human emotion and have a sense of when things are not quite right. While there was no one incident that caused me to do what I did, I went to the local courthouse and got out the court file for Sharon's divorce.

The divorce was initiated by a verified complaint (which is what starts a divorce in our State, although it is called other things in other states) filed by Sharon's ex-husband – NOT, as she had told me, by her. It alleged adultery, and contained enough substance – much more detail than one would expect in the first filing in a divorce – to make me believe it. There were few other papers because the parties reached an agreement soon after the filing. Someone in the Courthouse had obviously made an error and left what should have been a sealed settlement in the file. One interesting thing that document revealed was that Sharon was paying her ex alimony, something that she also never told me.

Now my suspicions completed aroused, I put one GPS tracker on her car and one sewn into the lining of her favorite purse. When she went to "our" house at noon two Thursdays in a row I installed a camera in our bedroom. Sharon is a creature of habit so it was no surprise when the GPS tracker showed her at our house the next Thursday at noon.

When I remotely activated the camera it was also no surprise whatsoever that I saw her stripping for a guy names Jeremy that I recognized from L A Fitness, or them fucking up a storm laying on top of the comforter on our bed.

I immediately knew what I was going to do, and that I shouldn't do it, but my history demonstrated in spades that I'm hard-wired to respond to infidelity.

What was a little surprising to me is that while Sharon is almost always ready for a romp, or can easily be talked into one, on Thursday nights she was always the aggressor and thinking back I don't remember one Thursday night in the last two months that we hadn't fucked. Apparently the Thursday nooner really got her juices flowing.

The first thing that I did was to buy a thin vibrator. When she anxiously approached me for some fun that Thursday night, without revealing it to her, as I was fucking Sharon doggy I slowly inserted the lubricated thin vibrator into her ass.

"What are you doing Brad? I don't really like ass play. What the fuck is that – stop; please, please stop," were some of the things she said (moans and pauses removed). She even tried to wiggle away. I didn't let her.

When she got used to the vibrator in her ass she stopped complaining. Even though she normally has a snug pussy, with the vibrator in her ass it was vice tight. As I sensed her – and me – building to a climax I turned the vibrator on, first low, then high. She was shaking, quivering, and spasming like a landed marlin when I started ejaculating into her. The orgasm was so intense that she actually passed out – only the second time that I had fucked a woman senseless in my life.

Fortunately I was still with it enough to turn the vibrator off, although I stayed with my dick up her channel until it went flaccid and popped out. Only then did I remove the vibrator from her anus, which caused her comatose body to flinch and a grunt spring from her lips.

I was in what I have come to refer to as "short time mode" the next week. I had lots to do so I quit my job (obviously without telling Sharon) and spent all of my time working on what needed to get done. While I was able to accomplish most of the major things that I needed to, I couldn't get everything that I needed done regarding a new identity, so I reactivated a previous alias.

I fucked Sharon's lights out Friday through Wednesday morning. I fucked her in every position imaginable, and most of the time with the vibrator up her ass. She always protested when I started inserting the vibrator into her pucker hole, I think because she didn't like the loss of control when she almost always was rendered comatose, but she sure did love the resulting orgasms.

When I fucked Sharon for what I knew would be the last time on Wednesday morning I was sorry that it was coming to an end. She really was nice to be around, and a great piece of ass; too bad that I am like I am, and that she was a cheater.

I didn't fuck Sharon Wednesday night or Thursday morning because I didn't want her to depart from her routine Thursday nooner. I chuckled to myself when I saw her dress up more nicely than on other weekdays as she got ready for work. I left before her ostensibly to go to my now non-existent job but I just parked a couple of blocks away until the GPS on her car indicated that she was a mile from the house. Then I went back.

It was easy to spread the concentrated form of urushiol oil (the component of poison ivy that causes the rash and itch) that I had prepared all over the comforter, of course taking extreme caution to wear latex gloves and not touch it. I also had a gas mask on in case there were any fumes.

It was a little more difficult to place the atomizer for another batch of urushiol oil where I thought that it would have the most impact for my cheating girlfriend and her lover, but that was accomplished by 11:03 a. m. Then it was just a matter of waiting.

Once the lovers entered the house I parked my car where I was sure that I could easily activate the remote for the atomizer. Once I could see from the camera that the lovers were really going at it, including both rolling around on the urushiol oil coated comforter and totally in the throes of sexual bliss, I activated the atomizer. It took a full two and a half minutes before they started coughing. Gee, I was sorry that they didn't get to finish their copulation.

It was also too bad that Jeremy had an allergic reaction – not just the normal problems – from breathing in the urushiol oil and that naked and wheezing Sharon had to make a 911 call.

As I drove out of town I threw the remotes for the camera and atomizer in a dumpster at a 7-11, abandoned my car in a remote part of a Walmart parking lot where I was sure that the surveillance cameras didn't cover, walked to the bus station only a mile away, and was gone.

**************

I was three weeks into my new life. I had just gotten my new identity papers (I wasn't secure with my old alias) and was going to the safe deposit box I had placed them in along with cash, and was about to leave the state. When I walked out of the cheap motel that I was staying in to start my new life I heard a familiar voice say "Stay where you are Scott; it's time to come home."

I ran. Out of the corner of my eye I saw two Tasers fire. The pain was bad enough that I obviously passed out. I awoke in a van from Sunnyside Home for the Criminally Insane (not its real name, but might as well be) in a straitjacket.

Dr. Patterson saw my eyes open. "Sorry we had to taze you, Scott, but I told you to stay still and not make a break for it," she said with her normally sweet smile.

"Sorry Susan," I replied – I never called her "doctor" – "but you know me."

"I'm really disappointed that you left us, Scott. The people at the University were even more distressed – you were really helping them with their esoteric physics problems that I don't pretend to know anything about. 'Where's our cheerful human computer' Dr. Ryan asked me three times a week."

"You know Susan, I probably would have stayed, but I couldn't get laid at Sunnyside. How do you expect someone like me, with an already enhanced libido, to go without pussy?"

"I've told you many times, Scott, that there is no prohibition against a consensual sexual relationship between patients as long as precautions are taken."

"Yeah, but all of the female patients are dogs, and you won't let the only nurse that doesn't look like a cavewoman fuck me, and you won't bring in prostitutes."

"Scott, you can't expect me to allow sexual interaction between the staff and patients, or to violate the law by bringing in a prostitute."

"Well how about you, then Susan? You're prime fuckable material, but you won't give me a chance." This last comment was made both to shock and compliment Susan, although I knew that she was so cool that it probably would not have either affect. Actually she was good looking enough that I would fuck her – except that she was married, and you know my prohibition against that, so it was just talk on my part.

"Oh Scott, how flattering. You are a sexy guy but I'd lose my medical license and my husband and you wouldn't want that would you? I could no longer help you deal with those impulses that caused you to kill Jenna and your brother."

Jenna was my ex-wife. I reacted a little more strongly than I had with Sharon and Jeremy when I found Jenna and my brother fucking in my bed. If I wasn't a genius and wasn't able to figure out exactly how to be found insane instead of guilty I probably would have gotten the death penalty.