Microwaving the Ice Bitch

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Closed project provides fun and a lucritive future.
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Five years of failure was coming to an end. The grant was not being renewed. It seemed so promising to scramble the thoughts of others using microwaves. However, the work was such a flop the university and the government just wanted out. Neither even wanted the reams of "results." For some reasons I carted it all back to my big, plush, computer filled house. I had even gone to the auction and purchased some of the specially developed equipment sold to clear the research rooms for new, and hopefully, successful new projects. I knew I would have plenty of time to tinker with it while I tried to find other work.

I had my old computers crunch the data, looking for correlations not related to the original protocol. I didn't expect to find anything, but something did fall out. One early study using a steady level of general body radiation at very close range showed that eleven of fifty people tested, checked a box stating they had a pleasant feeling. In the seldom read comments four of those eleven said it was a sexual feeling. Oddly, all four of those subjects were women. Did this mean anything?

Later we learned that steady levels or regular pulses were definitely not effective, the brain quickly adjusts to new environments. Coherent thought continued were never disrupted. We learned that people with an ABT14 DNA genetic marker seemed sensitive to microwaves. In fact they could feel the microwaves during the first stages of their tests. Like much of what we learned, that proved to be useless even though it was 60% of the population. I noted that all four of the "sex" comments came from ABT14s.

For weeks these facts wandered around my mad scientist and "Rube Goldberg" mind. I wondered if random microwave pulses at close range could sexually stimulate ABT14 people? Not brain stimulation but body nerve stimulation. This would be easy enough to test. Sneaking saliva samples, I developed a list of friends who were ABT14s. I modified a dining room chair and one space at my big oak dinning room table to house small microwave transmitters. No wires showed and the system's control looked like a TV remote.

I paid a chef friend of mine to prepare a beautiful meal for four. I invited an occasional bedmate, Mary, and a couple, Tom and June, who had been together for three years. I did not tell anyone this was any more than a meal shared with friends. I served and waited for the entrée course. My very reserved occasional partner was seated in the test chair and I started the preprogrammed 15 minute long sequence. Conversation was fast and furious around the table. My little Mary got quiet after seven minutes. The room was cool but she was sweating a little and was uncomfortable. She abruptly got up at eleven minutes and went to the bathroom. When she came back she said, "Jim the meal is wonderful but I've developed a horrible headache and should go home." We all said our goodbyes to Mary. Now it was time for desert. We crowded to the test end of the table to continue solving the world's problems.

June set in the test chair with Tom to her right. I was on her left.

Asti Cinzano Spumante served with strawberry and banana crapes was wonderful combination. I started the next test.

At six minutes, June was quiet and openly rubbing Tom's thigh. I intentionally dropped a fork and noticed June's left hand was firmly pressing her pussy. Soon June announced that they had to leave also.

What had I learned? I had a device that made women uncomfortable and want to go home. True, but maybe, I also had a wonderful toy that could lead to a lot of fun and a gold mine.

I needed an extreme test. I wanted to take a resistive woman all the way through orgasm. I knew just the woman. The "Beautiful Ice Bitch" was one of the genius math reviewers of the old project. She dressed in tailored skirted suits, put everyone down, never had a date that I knew of and was totally arrogant. I would take the chance she was microwave sensitive. It would be sort of a blind test. The next day I called the university, "Ms. Lois Anders, please."

"Hello, this is Ms. Anders."

"Ms. Anders, this is Jim Clark, from the old microwave project. I would like to hire you for two or three hours of math review work. I need your expert help to double-check my starting calculations on a potential new project. I'll pay you $500. If I start with any mistakes, I could be beginning another disaster like the microwave project."

She responded, "I'm very busy right now. I could fit you in this coming Tuesday morning. Other than that, I don't know when I could help you." I agreed to Tuesday.

At exactly 9 a.m. Tuesday, she flowed into my house like Loretta Young. "Where are your calculations and where do you want me to work? I'm on your clock." I grinned at her and said, "OK, no coffee then." She glared at my attempt at humor and followed me into my study. She seemed impressed at the house and study but could not give me the satisfaction of a compliment. I had everything perfectly set up for her, including my secret chair and desk modifications. "I'll check back with you in about 45 minutes so you can give me your first impressions." I closed the door and went to the living room to watch her on the closed circuit TV I had installed."

The "Beautiful Ice Bitch" condescended to my statistics. If microwaves didn't break her concentration, I would have to hear her, "This is shit!" speech again. I gave her ten minutes to get into the packet. She was good. She was well into the task when I pressed my remote and started a greatly improved program.

At eight and a half minutes, she rubbed across her ovaries and moved around in her seat. At ten minutes, she wiped her forehead and continued to fidget around in her seat. At twelve minutes, she was a microwave convert. She looked around the room, put her pencil down, closed her eyes and began rubbing her breasts. Another minute and her right hand snaked down under her skirt and she pushed back from the desk. She wasn't happy with her progress. Lois Anders did not look arrogant now. She looked like a woman wanting relief and wanting it now. Her panty hose were in the way. I was glad I put two cameras under the desk. Lois worked her panty hose and panties down to her knees. My hard on and I watched as she pushed two very experienced fingers into her shinny, demanding cunt. She was possessed, violently searching for release.

She still felt too confined. Off came the shoes, panty hose and panties. Three fingers of her right hand went back into her slippery hole. Her other hand absentmindedly ran through her well coiffed hair and then went directly to her clit. There was nothing subtle about her approach. It was rough. I really did not need the video. The regular slapping and squishing noises gave away exactly what she was doing. Her orgasm hit. She was beautiful to watch. She tried hard, but unsuccessfully, to be quiet. One high followed another. Lois was wetting my desk's chair. After keeping her ridding high for almost six minutes, I turned off the microwaves and watched her slowly recover. I was surprised she had not passed out. She was obviously exhausted and was struggling to breathe normally again. When I saw her check her watch, I knocked and went in.

Lois looked like she was rolling out of bed after a satisfying all-nighter. She was totally flustered and embarrassed. She and the room smelled strongly of pussy. She knew it. I played with her discomfort, "I didn't realize how musty it was in here. Please accept my apology." I walked to the window and opened it. "Did I make lots of mistakes? You look like you have been struggling to make sense of my numbers."

Lois responded, "I, I, I haven't finished."

I thought, "Yes you did."

She continued, "I have to get to work. I can take your data and bring it back to you later." I walked behind her and rolled her chair out from the desk, exposing her skirt up around her hips. She quickly adjusted herself and realized her shoes, panties and panty hose were still under the desk. She was reduced to being human. "I apologize, I took my shoes off."

I pulled her back farther and said, "I'll get them for you." Before she could react, I got her shoes and slipped her underwear under my arm. Lois was still struggling for composure. "Lois, you are a beautiful and very smart woman. You can take your shoes off in my office anytime." She blushed. I continued, "However, I'm not comfortable letting my stats out of my house right now. Can you come back again to complete you analysis?"

The "Beautiful Ice Bitch" was back and wanted to re-establish control "I'm not sure. I'll have to call you. By the way, no one I work with calls me by my first name."

I would not share control. "I can appreciate that. We don't work together anymore. You go ahead and get everything together. I don't want to make you late." I left her still wanting to say something and hurried back to my monitors. As I watched her frantically search for her underwear, I held her damp panties to my nose. Damn she smelled good to be such a bitch. My cock began to grow. After a minute or two I picked up an envelope with her name on it and walked back into my office. As I rounded the desk, her lovely bottom greeted me as the other end still looked for her panties and stockings. "Can I help you find something?"

"No. No. I just thought I had dropped a pen." Lois did not know what to do. She was blushing. Her face was just the right height; she had to see the bulge between my legs.

"Lois, here is the payment we agreed on. I know you will stop back by and finish."

She had heard her first name again. "Thank you. Of course, I'll finish crunching the numbers, but now I have to get going."

As I walked with her to the door, I wished I had a camera in her car. The picture of her seeing herself in the rearview mirror would be priceless. Her hair was mussed, her eye makeup had run a little and she still had a little of that after sex grin. I wanted to leave her arrogant Mensa member brain spinning. As I stood close to her at the door, I inhaled for effect and said, "Thank you Lois for helping me. Again let me apologize for the mustiness of my home. I'll air it out before you cum again."

The Beautiful Ice Bitch had become Lois and she knew it. She would have to come back and finish the work she had been paid for. She was confused. She could not understand why she had lost control, like never before. She knew that when she came back, she would be greeted by a man who would have her panties and panty hose. She knew the next time we saw each other, I would know she had pleasured herself in my office.

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3 Comments
vargas111vargas111over 17 years ago
Preg Her

Like to se her knocked up.

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
Agree, More is Needed

I agree with the previous poster that more is needed, though I don't think it need be humiliation. I seem to detect some affection for Lois on the narrator's part.

More of their story, their relationship would be worth following.

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
more

Needs some humiliation and degradation

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