AGAINST THE MACHINE
CHAPTER FOUR by Riley Jericho rileyjericho@yahoo.com
Caleb Montgomery's mind cried out in dismay and he scrabbled to hang on to his equilibrium after another, and yet more powerful, wave passed over him. My God, how was it doing it? How were such desperate feelings being made to feel so horribly real?
During the days of being held on remand, their lawyer had spelled out what could be the best and worst case scenarios for what he might be facing. For the worse case he'd had to consider the distant possibility that they might try to pin the Machine on him, but he'd dismissed it; refusing to believe that anyone -- let alone an inanimate computer programme -- could really make him, Caleb Montgomery (who knew computers inside out), do anything! If you had a strong will, how could you REALLY be made to want or do something if you REALLY knew you shouldn't? Only weak people did that -- and he was not that weak!!
Was he?
He'd never been stupid enough to do drugs, but maybe this was what it was like when the chemicals messed up your brain so much, you just had to have another fix. You were addicted -- it was a pure craving -YOU HAD TO!
He turned to look at the Hispanic teen. How could he be put into the same category and place as THAT! He probably did drugs. He deserved to be put through this! Not him!
The guy caught him staring. "Fucking fairy pervert!" he spat, and Caleb looked away quickly.
Bastard.
However angry or confused he felt, sexually he was completely on fire; more aroused than he could ever remember being in his life
Part of him was still demanding that this wasn't real and he mustn't choose it, but he was fighting a loosing battle with an undeniable entity that pressed, in unimaginable ways, to give himself to it. Of course he'd jerked plenty, but he'd never known full sex with a person. EVER. And, the way things had been going in his life, the mathematical probability that he would get laid anytime soon were pretty much zero! Now his whole body was exploding with sensations and previously un-guessed experiences that were consuming him; and this fucking Machine seemed as real, and more potent than anything he had ever dreamed of.
He sobbed after another few really horrible moments, and the brief outburst drew the attention of the Attendant with what felt like a smug and knowing look. Caleb caught his eye and loathed him -- almost as much as he despised the thug on the couch next to him; the Latino bastard with the limited vocabulary who belittled him through the huge manly cock he paraded.
A week earlier, he'd been smug in his own cleverness and confidant in his own security. But when they had swooped, he'd failed to destroy the damming evidence. Even then, he'd had no doubt that his Father would sort it out and get him out of the mess he'd landed in. They had money, plenty of it; and connections to people in high places and, during the court hearing, the expensive lawyers kept telling him he would be released -- at worst with not much more than hand slap and a fine.
But the lawyer had failed him. His father had failed him!
In the court room, it was with incredulous disbelief that he had stood, expecting to be acquitted, to hear a sentence of guilt pronounced, followed by the requirement that he be brought to this place for immediate reorientation; the Centre for Emotional Wellness. The Machine.
The memories of the jubilant cheers from the public gallery still stung.
Even then he had still believed that his superior intelligence would be enough to protect him, but now he knew that, without doubt, he too was being hacked and it was only a matter of time before he would be broken.
Not like this, Oh God -- not with a machine - not like this!
And as much as he hated these others, he despised himself for his own weakness and failure to control himself.
Those fucking pictures! Without them, he'd be at home now, and still have some kind of life to look forward to.
In despair, he looked around the room and couldn't stop himself wondering if he would have downloaded pictures of any of those around him? His eyes rested in a couple of likeable places and, without thinking, his mind said 'probably, yes'. Then he suddenly found himself unable to shake the thought, as something seemed to latch onto it and play it back to him. He shook his head vehemently, but the denial was falling on deaf ears.
Once desire was fully-fledged in an individual, the relationship could be consummated and the Machine would finally trigger a primary orgasmic release (though without ejaculation) whilst, at the same time, taking an unbreakable hold on the rest of the mind.
With the locks picked and the doors flung open, the victim of this foundational break in was completely disconnected from any conscious or subconscious control, leaving the Machine at complete freedom to move in on the territory. Keeping the individual enjoyably distracted, and with all neural barriers disabled, it would proceed to finish mapping out the existing structure of the neural pathways. This was a process it had launched from the first moment of mating and would culminate in it identifying every one of the thousands of key neural paths of which it craved control. Once it had learnt all it needed to know, and had an individual mind fully mapped out, it would move to completion and Synaptic Remodeling.
The Remodeling would be triggered through an enhanced and overwhelming ejaculatory climax. It was cathartic event that lit up the extent of the mind's emotional network like a fairground at night; following the lights, it would burn its ownership on every part of the mind that mattered, and then dynamically begin creating new pathways and permanent synaptic links that could never again be closed by the individual, even if disconnected from the Machine. In the days following this break in procedure, the individual would be put into a deep coma-like stasis for extended periods of time, during which (if desired) the regeneration of their whole personality could be achieved.
Leaving the two boys for a few minutes to the bite of the Machine, the Attendant returned to young Noah. He glanced at his display monitor and it confirmed what was abundantly clear from the boy's face and squirming torso; that he probably would have little reserves to resist, now the Machine had begun to manipulate him. He spoke to the boy gently and easily in the hope of helping him stay calm.
"Hi there, Noah. Doing OK?"
The boy shook his head without saying anything. Someone squealed and Noah flinched, staring fearfully towards the source.
Whilst the earlier shouting and swearing had not been that pleasant, those had been replaced by cries of another kind that were just as intimidating! Add to that the fact that he was bound hand and foot, and had a weird device tethered to his freshly modified penis, the Attendant guessed he had every right to be disturbed! Much though he would like to, he couldn't risk loosening the boy's bonds in case he grabbed at the umbilical and disturbed the process that had to, and would, be completed.
It could be an extremely rough ride for any of them here and it concerned him that ones like Noah had to be to be exposed to this degree of assault -- even though it may be for the greater good. Greater good?? Surely there was something messed up about a system that demonised a young boy because he had lost his parents and wasn't coping well?
But there was also a job to be done this morning and he wasn't going to hesitate in completing the task as required.
"Feels a bit funny doesn't it," the Attendant suggested. The boy gasped a little and squirmed with the feelings that were beginning to bear down on him now.
"Can you take it off now?" he pleaded. "I don't really like it anymore. Why don't you use your hand instead, like before?" he added hopefully, and then grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut for a few moments as the mind probes pressed in on him.
The Attendant stroked the boy's arm encouragingly, "Don't worry, it's not so bad - but we do have to keep going now. It'll be finished soon anyway, just hang on for a few more minutes."
"Will me and Jack be better then?"
"Nearly...just try to relax and not think about. You're doing fantastically well...isn't he Jack?"
Jack was somewhat further down the process than the boy, and it was clear that those minutes had taken their toll on his body and mind. Fighting to keep his voice even, he joined the conversation. "Too right! I'm glad we're on the same team, bud - you're doing great! Hey - do you follow the Kats?"
The Kats were the local pro Basketball team and Noah nodded with a weak smile. "Sure," he retuned, with difficulty. "I wanna play pro too, when I'm bigger!"
"Well, there ya go - maybe we can go together to watch 'em play when this is done?"
Frankly, whether that would be possible, Jack had no idea. Maybe he had no right to offer such hope? He had become so disabled in life, he had been unable to make any plans and had no future anymore; time would tell whether there would even be a `future' tomorrow.
"They're playing at home on Friday night," Noah offered hopefully.
"Then it's a deal." Jack agreed. "And if not Friday -- then another week. Can you hang on for that?"
The boy nodded, not wanting to let them down.
The Attendant watched the exchange with interest. Was Jack just playing along or did he actually care? He shrugged - either way it helped the boy, so he didn't interfere with their social planning because, despite his earlier encouragement, he knew that shortly the boy's mind would start reacting instinctively in self-preservation and it would get pretty bad!
But he still hoped that his prediction would be true - that it would be over sooner rather than later for the kid.
He didn't expect Jack Clifford to last that long either; mainly because he was here by his own accord and had freely chosen this procedure - although even those who came with no plans to resist often found that their bodies and minds still tried to hold off the alien onslaught. Maybe it was an instinctive protective reaction, he wondered; similar to blinking if an object comes too near the eye. It was hard to know, as he'd not seen it frequently; there were not many like Jack who voluntarily ended up in this particular Treatment Room!
But he knew he had made a good choice in putting the two together. From a distance, as he had been attending to the others earlier, he'd seen them talking quietly and easily together as the older man took time to help the boy, easing his fears and trying to encourage him to stay relaxed.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-
For one requesting this treatment of his own volition, Jack was unusual, as the majority of those -- and there were more than you would expect - went to one of a number of private facilities that did this exact same modification. Those that chose it were usually wanting to forget something; wanting to start a new life somehow and escape from the baggage of the past.
However, the private clinics were quite expensive and, other than being graced with a pretty receptionist, they offered no more -- and sometimes a lot less -- than what could be achieved here; other than it being seen as a little more socially attractive!
Naturally, the 'specialist' doctors who worked in this field made a lot of money by promoting it as a painless and easy route to emotional health - and maybe it was cheaper than years of therapy. But their patients were still physically restrained; they were still permanently exfoliated and circumcised. And, because they'd been required to sign a well-worded and completely watertight `no-release' form, the highly paid doctor had the legal freedom ignore the screams when the coercion hit and they pleaded that they had made a terrible mistake; demanding, nay, begging, for the Machine to be withdrawn.
However, with some good conditioning, a few weeks later those same individuals were able to gush enthusiastically to the practitioner's next potential clients, describing what a beautiful time it had been after all!
Still, some physicians, under the right circumstances, were willing to refer a patient to go through this process of emotional reconstruction here at The Centre, where it was free. As long as you didn't mind being in the same room as some of the more usual and unpleasant pond-weed that passed through, it was a good deal.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-
The Attendant made sure the ejaculation dampers of both man and boy were in place and then went to review his notes again at his console.
It was all there; Jack had lost his wife and son some years ago to a tragic airplane accident in which he'd been at the stick and had never recovered from the trauma or was able to put his life back together again. He'd reached a state where it would be either room or suicide so, through his physician, the man had agreed to be treated and to undergo a remodeling of his mind and emotions here at the Centre; to forget, or at least to be able to remember without the pain.
This is what made the treatment different from the old days of frontal lobotomies. Whilst an individual was irrevocably altered by the deep-seated changes the Machine worked upon their emotions and psyche, they still usually remembered that they were them; much of the knowledge held from before could, if appropriate, be maintained intact; they still recognised and knew who friends were. What was changed in them was much deeper than that and went to the very heart of an individual's values, emotions and self-identity.
You usually remembered who you were, the Attendant qualified to himself. Sometimes the Machine felt the past was so messed up, it just wiped every memory.
Leaving his console, he returned to the homosexual couple. Both were flushed, although even the younger one, Ben, seemed to have settled a bit and was actually holding his own against the Machine.
With Ben watching his every move, he lifted up the lead of the umbilical and traced it towards where it joined the boy before deliberately taking hold of the lad's straining penis. For those holding homosexual tendencies, this was usually quite provocative and his goal was to disrupt the individual, enough so their grip on themselves faltered.
He squirted a little gel onto his hands before carefully examining the surgical modifications ; slowly manipulating the younger one gently under the coronal rim of his glans as he did so. With arms bound and his legs separated by the stirrups on either side of the couch, Ben was helpless to resist the physical contact.
"Oh shit....! No....don't touch it...don't do that!" he gasped, as the visual stimulus married with the physical feelings and his control slipped a little as he was examined
"It looks good on you, Ben," the Attendant complimented the younger of the two boys as he held him and began to masturbate more firmly. "It's a good tight circumcision; something you can be rightly proud of."
Teasingly, he ran his fingers across the boy's hairless skin, and he shuddered at the touch. "You look good smooth too - there's nothing wrong with that, either!"
Though appearance wasn't the main reason why they were circumcised, for the individual bound to the couch as they were and having had the foreskin taken, the erection pulling back tight down their shaft was quite difficult to ignore!
Even more so for Ben!
When this young boy had been prepped for surgery yesterday, it had become apparent that, not only was he uncircumcised, he also suffered from Phimosis -- a not uncommon condition. The condition presented with an extremely tight phimotic band around the tip of his penis such that his foreskin had never been able to retract properly and, up until now, the mushroom shaped head had never seen the light of day. As a result, he knew it would be uncomfortably sensitive now, but that was a weapon too.
The Attendant slowly brought his ring grip up and over the pink head. Provocatively, yet lightly, he swirled his finger over the boy's sensitive glans, whilst deeply massaging the shaft. Ben leaned forward and grunted, squirming and clenching the muscles of his backside against the explosion of new feelings assaulting him.
He made to stop and then, without warning, the Attendant altered the grip around the shaft and pulled it up over the top, massaging the tender glans rapidly and full-on.
"AAARRGGGHHH...!" Ben convulsed and smacked his head back against the headrest. He squealed with the overpowering torturous sensation, yet the line between pain and pleasure was becoming increasingly blurred.
In the middle of the offensive and deep inside the boy, the compulsion to orgasm spiked and something in him began to give way to the desires. He began shaking as the decay set in and his earlier distress turned back to guilt. He'd felt a great weight of guilt at having led Nate under the cameras -- and now the new a new guilt was forming, as he couldn't help himself responding to the sexual caresses being offered.
Failing already, hopelessness closed in and he looked over to Nathan in anguish. "I'm sorry," he gasped and hung his head again.
Around the room, the dismay was increasing with the sound level. Most had been at this for a dozen minutes or more and were entering the final phase, where the ability to resist would be swamped. All were flushed and some even perspired with the intense arousal and physical strain. A few were becoming extremely agitated as they twisted and pulled in the unseen battle they waged.
Caleb Montgomery was one of those.
The scene he was witnessing just across from him had been way too close for comfort, but he just couldn't pull his eyes from it. For some reason, the two guys -- one about his age, the other a bit older -- seemed to know each other, but he had no idea what the connection could be. They didn't really look like bank robbing brothers or thugs or even some serial rapist tag team. He hadn't been able to catch their names, but the younger one was crying. For the first time that day -- for a great many days actually - he was moved by a plight other than his own.
A little earlier, he'd observed from afar as the Attendant finally came to the two to mate them to the Machine in the same way as had already been pressed on the rest of the group.
`No, please -- at least do me first' the older one had shouted. Fuck, why would anyone offer that, Caleb wondered? The Attendant had agreed and hadn't even used the strap...? It made no sense.
He knew the older of the two teens immediately.
Not personally, but he knew exactly who and what he was; everything that he, Caleb Montgomery, wasn't. Popular. He was the well-built jock type who owned the field; those ones who always had the girls flocking to them at school. Yet, behind those deep-set dark eyes and firm jaw, he looked intelligent too!
Those were the worst - the ones everyone looked up to, but who had the power to inflict the most spiteful pain when they put you down.
But it was the other one that really got his attention; the younger one that was a bit gangly in comparison; the one with the mousey hair and ears that stuck out idiotically; the one who had something, Caleb suspected, that would probably make him stop and look twice if they passed in the street or he saw his picture on the Net.
School was as crap as it could get -- an expensive and elite Academy that was often nothing more than a magnet for thugs with money; an establishment that catered for those trying to buy a future for their delinquent sons. But if this kid had been at his school, would he have talked to him?
Probably. Perhaps.
Maybe he wouldn't be one that ran with the crowd? Maybe nobody else would have time for him and he'd perhaps try to start a friendship with him - with the hope that he wouldn't just call him a freak and a loser, like everyone else did.
More likely he'd just keep his mouth shut and eyes down and stay out of trouble. But he'd have to keep looking from afar, because how can anyone so scrawny and lopsided look so fascinating at the same time? The kid with the turned up nose and a face that he'd lay odds could smile the pants off you in any circumstances other than this!
He suddenly caught a name as the Attendant came back and started talking to them once more.
Ben! The guy was called Ben.
As he observed them, he got the shock of his life! His mouth dropped open and, if he hadn't been tied down, he might easily have fallen off the couch, as he watched the Attendant take Ben's dick and literally begin to jerk him; right there, in full view of everyone.
Oh my God... he was actually doing it! Doing it to him slowly, deeply and deliberately, and in a way that Caleb could only dream; and he found himself yearning for something - `I wish I was doing that!'
He was actually excited - and that was disturbing!
HELL -- IT COULDN"T BE TRUE...could it? That sex in that way and wanting to see other guys like this - was that what he really liked? Shit it couldn't be...
He looked again, and also across to the black kid next to Ben who was quite...errr...interesting, too! In fact, he had to admit that not having any pubes made the kid's black groin look intensely sexy!
He licked his dry lips and turned back to Ben who was still being openly masturbated, but the Attendant had done something that had made the boy shout in pain. That bothered him and he almost called out to make him stop - and nearly did, apart from something bore down on him again and he cried out in surprise himself, as a new and much more formidable compulsion mounted him.
On the couch close to Ben Macintosh, there was an unexpected high weeping cry as the young black boy stumbled, also coming close to the end now. He was shaking his head from side to side and banging it back on the soft headrest in rhythmic distress as, synapse by synapse, he gave up control of his deep-seated sexual functions; fighting the strong desire to cum as if his very existence depended on it.
In a profound way, it did.
The Attendant was glad it was nearly over for the boy, but was disturbed by the discomfort that was being forced on him. Some used the word `rape' to describe the raw compulsion to orgasm, forcefully extracted from an unwilling partner in these circumstances. He preferred to believe that the Machine just knew the boy better than himself and he also knew that it would only bring him finally to climax because that was what the boy would crave.
Around the room the were soft gasps as others, hearing the cries of sex and submission, found their own resolve wavering as the Machine slipped deeper into their minds, weakening their ability to hold out.
Looking again at the two gay boys, both the monitor and experience dictated that the younger one would be the first to crack. But he withdrew his hand from masturbating him, not wanting it to be too soon, as this one was going to be the key to unlocking the other. It was often this way with homosexual couples, and why he always chose to keep them together.
Taking time and care, he had passed around to attend to every boy who was under his responsibility that morning. He knew something about them all; their backgrounds, the reasons they'd been sent to this facility and the possible futures they might have to look forward to.
The ones that had families that still cared for them could -- contrary to popular opinion -- just go home, and would hopefully go on through life as normal.
Whatever `normal' was for them at that point.
For example, how would it be for the two gay teens?
After a few days here, they would hopefully go home to their families to eat dinner, empty the trash, tidy their rooms and go to sleep in their own beds; maybe even be back to school the following week as if nothing had much happened. Some of their friends might not even know what had been done to them...other than they both now carried the mating ring and, these days, most were aware what that signified! Yet, despite the treatment -- or maybe even because of it - however others around them perceived or judged them, the boys themselves would have no sense that anything was wrong in their world.
The conditioning saw to that and for them, wearing the ring and mating to the Machine every day would seem perfectly normal and they would do it without hesitation or concern.
To everyone else, in almost every other way, they would seem to be typical, well-adjusted and sensible young guys. In fact, they would be whatever the Machine programmed and conditioned them to be.
Even if it wasn't who they really were!
Returning to Jack and Noah he could see that the Machine was on its full offensive and the boy was now suffering and crying unrestrainedly. Even though he was clearly not doing well himself, Jack looked desperate as he tried to offer comfort and encouragement to the lad.
"Make it stop -- please -- make it stop!! I don't want it!" Noah screeched. Another fierce coercion bore down into him and, twisting and straining against the onslaught, he sobbed in dismay, "No...stop...it's not right...I don't want to...it hurts..."
What had started as something beautiful and fun had become a tormenting nightmare. The boy pulled against his bonds helplessly as, tethered by his mating ring to a howling monster, the Machine poured its irresistible power into him.
The older man was struggling too, yet his discomfort multiplied by having to watch the boy suffering in this way. Emotions, long repressed, were surfacing and he had tears running down his cheeks as he pulled at his own restraints, trying to get free to get help Noah.
"For God's sake, help him," he begged the Attendant. "Please - can't you do something?"
Impotently, he stared across at the youngster for whom he'd unexpectedly felt a responsibility. It was agony! The boy reminded him of his own dead son at a time when he was desperately trying to forget it all. But he couldn't help it, as this boy had called out of him something that he thought was long dead and buried; the ability to care.
They were both in pain.
Observing the boy dispassionately, his professional eye filtered out the emotion and he could see everything was progressing on schedule for the young boy. Distress and emotion were par for the course in this room and they rarely touched him. Noah had been brought here for this required treatment, and it would be completed fully and successfully.
But he still had reservations because, though the Machine got its way in the end and the final outcome was as effective as with adults, the shock of getting there was much greater for ones as young as this. The Machine was compelling him to copulate, but he probably had little idea what that meant, or what it was.
Maybe it was just inefficient?
It was different for pubescent teenage boys; ones who had taken time to experiment in the privacy of their own room and at their own pace, eventually discovering the pleasurable sensations that came with ejaculation as they explored the world of sexuality. But he guessed this boy had little or no such experience to fall back on. But the Machine didn't really care, and that could be horrible.
The Care-Giver, for that was how he still saw himself, nodded and studied the monitor looking for openings. He had hoped that Noah's defenses would be minimal, but the boy was remarkably tenacious -- much stronger and more obstinate than he had ever expected as he resisted the Machine; still holding out with a depth of reserve and yet-untested strength.
Studying the fluctuating readouts, he searched for a breach.
There...no, even better...there...!
He smiled to himself as he spotted the opening and guided the Machine to it. In response, within a few moments, the boy shuddered and his eyes flew open in shock as his resistance was unexpectedly sidestepped. The end was definitely coming now.
And fast!
Wanting to make the most of the next few moments, the Attendant moved swiftly back to the black boy in the centre of the room. Of all the rest, the readouts and his experience dictated that this one had also been brought right to the edge. He knew that if both boys succumbed in tandem, it could start a cascading domino effect amongst the rest.
The African boy was astonishingly handsome, even for a 16 year old. He writhed on the couch, forced to give his sex up to the demands of the Machine as it sought to mate to him; pressing its desire via the umbilical, through the ring embedded in his penis; a member that was now dripping with pre-seminal fluid in response to his intense arousal. With each passing moment he was being draw closer to the consummation he was fighting, so vainly, to dismiss; and there were not many of those precious moments left for him.
To magnify what would be the centre stage for the final unraveling, the Attendant lowered the ambient light and increased the brightness on just this one.
Every eye stared feverishly at the tormented young man.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------- AGAINST THE MACHINE A story by Riley Jericho rileyjericho@yahoo.com