I don’t always check my snail mail in a timely manner. It’s always junk mail. The most useful item is the two-for-one coupon from the pizza place down the road. They send one out every month or so. But this time I found a card-sized envelope. It was neatly typed on, though, and looked like an enticement to open it up for more junk mail. Kind of like those envelopes that look like tax documents or checks but are actually ads for vacuum cleaners. Still, with no return address I played it safe and popped it open.
Dear Sir,
You have been named as a party of interest for the Infectious Neurological Outreach Board, pursuant to State Statute…
It went on with the legalese. Why something so official was printed on a card that could have been a wedding invite was beyond me, but I’d heard about the I.N.O.B. somewhere. I wondered if I had to google it or they would just tell me.
You are hereby requested to report to your regional outpatient treatment facility by 5:00 PM on April 1, 2023. Failure to appear in person will result in your name being removed from consideration for outpatient-outreach liaison status for the considered case and may impact future assignments at such time as they should become available.
Best regards,
I.N.O.B. Management, Pacific Northwest, Region 5
Well, only a government agency could be so unfriendly while thinking they were offering me something. Still, April 1 was today, and I had an hour to decide if I should show up or not. It didn’t sound like a command. So I sat down and typed in their organization’s web site off the bottom of the form. The first hit was the site itself, but the subsequent hits reminded me of what this really was.
The Brain Bug center. D’oh! Of course, nobody called them by their real name. The Brain Bug center handled all the cases. And that meant…
I jumped to my feet. I only had an hour to get there. I didn’t even lock the front door. If traffic was bad, I was thoroughly hosed! Now I had to calculate the fastest I could drive without causing an accident or risking a ticket. As I rushed onto the interstate I saw my tank was low. Well, fuck it all. Did I risk running out of gas? It was thirty miles by the GPS, but the low fuel light was already on. It had been on my way home. Well fuck! But if I slowed down I could reach the building in time, and let’s see, a reduction of ten MPH versus a ten minute stop to fuel up. Yeah, slow it down and get there. Less chance of a ticket that way anyway.
Ugh! Drivers in this town! I was ready to plow through them. But there were no major accidents on the way, and I pulled into the parking garage at 4:48. Jeezuz Fucking Christ I was cutting it close. I ran to the elevator and found the suite. 4:53. Thank fucking god!
“I just got this today!” I said to the receptionist, handing her the card. I lied. I just opened it today. It probably sat out there for several days. She typed in the confirmation number.
“Cutting it close there,” she said. “Okay, you’re in the system. A doctor will speak to you shortly. Please have a seat.”
Phew! Okay, that was a fright. I damn near lost out. I didn’t have to sit long. The doctor came out, and she was something to look at. I assumed it would be a male, but then I figured it must be a psych thing. She was probably a shrink.
“Hello, John, I’m doctor Trainor. Please come in.” I followed her in and sat down. It looked like a regular office, just me and her.
“I was expecting, um…” I began.
“Yes, we know. But first I have to explain the medical issue. If you know it, I still have to tell you and you need to sign that you understand.”
“Okay, sure. But who is she?”
“The Baccilicus imperiti bacterium,” she continued, “commonly known as the ‘brain bug’, is a parasitic infection in humans that causes behavioral modifications. It’s the first known instance of an infection that affects human beings. I have to tell you, personally, these things are terrible. They just re-write neural pathways to compel their victims to behave a certain way, or refrain from doing something. Anyway, I shall continue. The imperiti only affects female subjects in this way. Males, unfortunately, find the infection fatal, but females have to endure it as a chronic condition. There’s no cure, I’m afraid. Not yet, not for lack of trying. However, the affected women still need to survive living with a compulsion written into their minds.
“In this case, the subject has been implanted with a Type-C-5 compulsion. This requires her to endure certain constraints in her life, failure to do so resulting in rapid illness and eventually death. We have mapped them out fully. This, John, is where you come in.”
“So, who is it?”
“The subject is, sadly, compelled to remain without clothing and in a condition of restraint. This is determined by her neurological understanding of the situation, so if she is aware of being not naked and not physically restrained, then she becomes rapidly nauseated, unconscious, and finally goes into cardiac arrest within a period of hours. She is otherwise fully functioning and can go about her life aside from those constraints. We’ve done a full workup, and there should be no other conditions in play.”
“She doesn’t need sex?” I asked.
“No.” Her tone turned icy. She’d probably seen this before.
“What about me? If it’s fatal and I get it…”
“The bacterium has transitioned into a dormant state. Her infectious period is over. You’re in no danger. However, as it sounds like you have guessed, the subject is in need of permanent supervision. She could be institutionalized, but the budget for such things is on a shoestring, so she’d be essentially living in a cage in an open ward staring at the walls for the rest of her life. That is why the community outreach exists. We find willing volunteers to take in women in this condition and look after them, removing the financial burden from the state.”
“So let me get this straight,” I said. I was losing my enthusiasm fast. “You want me to pay to feed some naked woman that I can’t even have sex with? I get to look but no touch?”
“Well that would be something for the two of you to work out.” She stopped and sighed, looking absolutely disgusted. “I am required to inform you that because of budget constraints, it is impossible to keep tabs on subjects in the program once they leave the facility with a treatment care volunteer. This is why the selection process is so important. However, you don’t have to decide until you meet her. She provided your name, so you should know her. Shall we go to her?”
“Yeah, let’s,” I said. Maybe this could be salvaged. A naked woman that had to stay locked up and no one would check on her. There were possibilities. She led me down some hallways and into the ‘treatment’ room. It was an actual medical office, more or less. And standing there, stark naked with a chain and locked collar around her neck and the other end locked to a ring on the wall, it was her.
“Anja Ferris?” I asked in disbelief. She stood there, frowning, face hardened, one eye slightly shaking. “Since when are we even friends?”
“I thought I explained that,” Trainor said. “The confinement has to be mentally real. If Anja picked a friend, she might come to believe she was not really restrained and could leave on request. While you couldn’t legally hold her, you could really, kind of, legally hold her. If that makes sense.”
“It means I can’t hold her, but no one is going to enforce it, because the medical ethics laws haven’t caught up to a bizarre new situation like the brain bugs.”
“Yeah, that’s essentially it. I understand Anja considers you not a friend.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I said.
“I told you,” Anja snarked to Trainor. “My life depends on this guy being the best option. Maybe I should just walk off a bridge and be done with it.”
“No one’s stopping you,” I said.
“Uh, yes, someone is!” she snapped back, yanking the chain on the wall.
“Well, Anja, are you trying to convince me? I mean, yeah, I’ll stare at your body. What’s not to like? You’re no model, but you’re fit enough. What, about thirty? Clean brown hair. Decent tits. A shaved pussy. But if that’s what your mouth is going to be like, maybe you’d prefer someone else?”
“You’re the least objectionable! Says something about mankind right there, but I didn’t ask for this! Do you want the eye candy or not? I can work from home, and obviously you’d be getting the money, since I can’t own anything in my own name anymore.”
“Oh, yeah, that too,” Trainor said.
“So this is why you haven’t been to the Teams meetings in the last couple weeks.”
“I’m sure you were broken up, John.”
“Not really. But I can get pictures of naked chicks hotter than you without giving me lip. So why should I bother with you? I don’t even like you? Are you going to let me fuck you?”
“No!”
“Don’t forget, Anja, if he tries, you won’t have much recourse. All you could do is request a removal, and only after you make contact with the world. Since you’re a remote worker, that could happen without too much delay, but that’s as far as it would go.”
“No penalties for me at all, huh?” I asked.
“Fucking perv!” Anja said. “I knew you’d fucking like this! Yeah, it keeps me alive, but fuck the cost! Asshole!”
“Are you trying to talk me into this or out of it?”
“I stress, that legally you can’t have sexual relations with her without her permission,” Trainor said.
“Yeah, yeah. I think I’m going to enjoy this anyway,” I said. “What do I need to sign?”
I spent the next ten minutes signing forms, and Anja signing forms, and finally it ended with me holding the other end of the chain leash. Anja stood there, arms and legs unbound but naked in a leashed collar looking like she was going to spit.
“Alright, I think it’s clear. Come on, let’s go,” I said, giving the leash a tug. She didn’t say a word but followed me out. I had everything I needed, including the stamped card identifying her as a ward of the brain bug center under my care, in case anyone asked. The forms had been clear. She could request removal, but not to just any old cop or bystander she came across. The conditions of her infection had necessitated her signing away some legal rights as an exchange for staying alive. She could make a request of the center, but only if she contacted them. It was a huge risk and she knew it. And I knew it. If I didn’t mind the loss of her income, I could just lock her in the basement and rape her ass six ways from Sunday for the rest of her life and no one would say boo.
But she was a high earner in our department. It was like doubling my own income. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I took her out to the car and began driving.
“What happened to your home? All your stuff?”
“Liquidated and the funds put in escrow in case I’m ever cured,” she stated. “You don’t get any of it.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t. I’m sick, not stupid. I made sure I’ve got something left if I ever get out from under you, fuck!” She realized her double-entendre error too late. I grinned. Out from under me. Good one.
We reached the front door and there she balked. The leash went taut but I didn’t yank her out, not yet. Still, as I understood it, she couldn’t get the idea that her movements were up to her. Not without her dying of freedom. “You’d better get your head together, Anja,” I said. “I agreed to this but if you can’t make it out of the fucking building, then maybe it’s not worth it to me to have to fight you all the time.”
“Can’t you see this is hard for me?” she almost cried. She was shaking. She’d had weeks to get used to not having her personal freedom anymore. Or clothes. But now she was leaving the safety of the center. Of course I saw it was a pretty fucking rotten situation. But I still didn’t like her, and she would die if I let her balk.
“I get it. Do you want to live or not? Okay, I’m going to give you two, and only two decisions right now. If you decide wrong, you can get the nice doctors to commit you before you start to puke or whatever. First decision, do you want to go with me or not? Pick. Now!”
“I’ll go with you!” she growled. “What’s the other question?”
“Is it worth it to you to put food in you in exchange for me putting my cock in you whenever I want to?” She turned redder than ever, and I could see the pulse in her neck as she stood there shaking. “Or any other body part of me in any other body part of you?” I added. She was clutching the door handle hard enough to rip it off. Not really, but it was a pretty tight, white-knuckle grip. She stopped being red-faced and started to grow pale. I realized she was starting to feel sick.
“Okay,” she said.
“No, make it formal. Amuse me, or I send you back. And try it without all the insults. Somehow, I won and you lost, so deal with it.”
She stood trembling a moment longer, but she sucked in air the way I usually did after drinking way too much and I was getting hungover. Anja wasn’t hungover. She was just royally cheated by life.
“It would please me if you would enter a portion of my body of your choice with the appendage of your choice,” she finally said. “If you bring a dish, it would be appreciated.” I was impressed. It was amusing and totally degrading for her to say while still being crisply formal, an invitation for my cock to visit her cunt.
“Good,” I said, and gave the leash a hard yank, pulling her away from the doorway. “Get your ass in gear then! Move it!”
So she stepped away from the doorway, off the curb, and into the parking lot. It was rush hour in the city and she was displayed to the whole commuting population. Yeah, she wasn’t the first woman to get the brain bug, and not even the first to lose her clothes over it. But she was the only one in sight. In my life I had seen two naked victims of the bug out and about. Total. Now I fucking owned one! And everyone was going to get a visual treat because I didn’t mind humiliating Anja in the slightest.
I sat her down and locked her leash to the car seat before we drove off. I tried my damnedest to keep my eyes on the road. Anja wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t even the greatest beauty ever. But she was right there! So I drove, and glanced at her as I was able. And I may as well have left my brain in my living room. We’d gone about seven miles when the engine quit. I was running on fumes, and fumes only got me over onto the shoulder. That was that. The car was dead now.
I can see I’m in good hands here,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No danger you’ll forget to feed me, huh?”
“Laugh it up, sweet cheeks. I have a can and there’s a station a mile up the road or so.”
“I can wait. I’m obviously not going anywhere.”
“Guess again,” I told her. I got out, unlocked her, and pulled her out.
“You’re making me go get it?” she demanded.
“No, that would mean taking you out of bondage. But I’m not leaving you here, so you are coming with me. And you can carry the can.”
“We’re in the middle of rush hour traffic!”
“Yeah, so get moving!” I said, handing her the gas can. I started walking and tugged the leash. Anja sullenly followed me.
Now, the first dozen times I heard the blare of a car horn I thought I was going to be run over. But then I figured out they were honks of approval. Nice. It was a twenty minute walk up, and I had her pump it, though we needed my credit card. It was a half-gallon can, just a little thing, not even enough to get home, but it would get the car here to the station.
“Oh wow!” I turned to see the station clerk out there. He’d come out of the little building. “I heard on the radio there was a naked babe on a leash backing up traffic! It’s you!”
“Yeah, no shit,” she replied.
On instinct, I slapped her face. Fairly hard, actually. Her jaw just about dropped in shock. “Watch your tone. Get used to this, girl. I won’t have you bad-mouthing other men just because you’re a little embarrassed! Understood? Say it.”
“I understand,” she said. She turned to the guy. “I’m sorry, it seems.” There was that attitude. So I slapped her ass, harder. She glared at me and turned back to him. “I’m sorry.”
Another twenty minutes back, and then driving to the station, and gassing up again. It was seven by the time I got us home. Our home now. Mine by ownership but ours by residence. I led her inside, but downstairs to the basement. Anja was quiet now, scared most likely. But she followed me down.
Of course I had nothing planned at all, but the basement had a load-bearing post and I looped the leash around it and locked it there. She was truly trapped and she knew it. She was trying to be defiant, but I could see the hopelessness in her expression. Maybe I was just reading into it, but she was trembling and I saw her eyes glistening as the tears tried to come out.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. I’m hungry.”
“So?”
Now a few whimpers escaped her lips as she laid herself down on the floor. It was a cement floor, and cool to the touch. But she laid down on her back and parted her legs, her sobs growing louder. She tried to hide them and hold them in. She failed.
Tender lovemaking. Erotic sex. Kinky flushed copulation. No, there was only one good descriptor. A cheap, rutting fuck. I was so hard after all this time I could hardly stand myself. I didn’t even find padding for my knees. I just dropped trow and mounted the woman. Her struggle against crying was losing faster now as I lined up and pushed it in her. Yeah, she wasn’t really wet. Wet enough to not give me a carpet burn, so good enough. I pushed my cock into her and felt the slightly moist warmth and pulled out and back in again, hard. Her cries grew louder. Not from shame alone. I think from pain. There was no way she was enjoying it. I was. Not like I should have been, but I was improvising. It didn’t matter. I had a lot of time available. So I fucked Anja nice and hard and quick. Five minutes, maybe, at most. And then my spunk shot up into her belly and that was that.
As I got up she rolled onto her side, body shaking as sobs continued to erupt from her throat. I put my pants back on and stood down, grinning. Her eyes opened up more. “What?” she wept. “What now?”
“Hamburgers or pasta?” I asked her.
“Um, burgers,” she said.
“No.”
“Okay, noodles! I don’t care!”
“Neither. I’ll feed you when I feed you. You’ll feel better for it. No choices, girl. No control.”
“I just need to be restrained! And naked! Not fucked and controlled!”
“Your restraint is predicated on you having no control over the situation. And you don’t. So, lie there, cry, scream, frig yourself, I don’t care. I’ll feed you when I feed you, fuck you when I fuck you, and put you where I put you. Relax, I’ll feed you before work tomorrow. I want you earning me those big bucks. Work well and I won’t cut you off from society. Think it over. Good night, Anja.”
I went upstairs, closing the door behind me. I left the light on for her. Halfway up the stairs I heard her long, loud, plaintiff cry of anguish. It lasted all the way to the kitchen. What lungs on her. The TV was sufficient to drown out the rest of her caterwauling. Poor girl. And poor me, stuck with a roommate I don't even get along with. Oh well, the sacrifices we make for the betterment of our society.
