Mother's Point of View
My world is devastated when I'm told that my research is being defunded. I shake my head so hard that my thick-framed glasses nearly fall and I have to readjust it. This is the last thing I expected to happen.
"I'm sorry, Jennifer, I truly am," the Director says. "I did my best to argue on your behalf, but the Board refuses to budge."
For context, my project is a marvel of modern science. Mainly it's meant for psychological purposes; helping people overcome fears and other mental obstacles. It's simple to use. All someone has to do is wear a harness that latches to their head and their emotions and/or body can be controlled.
A big problem is that my research has cost multi-million dollars and there still needs to be extensive testing before it's ready for global medical use. In total, the financial investment will be massive.
Worse, this corporation -- as powerful as they are -- has taken financial hits from their other endeavors. It makes sense that they're cutting costs wherever possible.
I plead with the Research Director to go back to the Board or the CEO and explain that I'm so close to a finished project. All I need are a few more months and this device could generate enormous amounts of money around the world.
As great as the money sounds, my motives have always been for the sake of humanity. That sounds cliche, but it's true. I've always been altruistic and this is my life's calling. It's incredibly frustrating to come this far, only to be told that my work is being shut down.
"I'm so sorry, Jen, they've already re-allocated the budget. You have a week to finish what you're doing. Then your research will be put in storage for future development. You'll be transferred to another department afterward."
The news hits me hard. Without a budget, progress is impossible, because this kind of research needs the full use of the laboratory along with the input of other scientists. It's a team effort on all fronts.
"Where's the budget going?" I question.
"Trust me, don't ask. It'll only make you angry."
"Tell me. I deserve to know."
"Sex research," the Director says plainly. "It's going to sex research. There's been a breakthrough on a female hormonal drug. Think of it as female-viagra. Millions of dollars are being shifted to complete the development of that because there's a huge market for it."
If I had a mirror, I'm certain that my reflection would be fury. I can tell my expression is making the Director uncomfortable, but that's okay. My passion to help others is overwhelming, and while I try to understand that sex research helps countless women, I feel that it pales in comparison to what my device could do.
A fire burns inside me.
I reply, "The device I'm working on can be recalibrated for sexual purposes. I understand the demand for female sex treatment and I know what can be done to fix that."
My request and tenacity catch the Director off guard, which is always fun. It's the last thing the Director expects to hear. I can tell my proposal is being considered. It's smart business, because my project is almost complete. And I have a lot of background in research towards women's sexual functions -- I led a department for that many years ago.
"I'll run the idea by upper-management," the Director says. "It's a tough sell, but plausible."
"Give me a week. I'll make the necessary adjustments."
When the meeting is over, I mentally go to work. I grab a cup of coffee and walk outside. There is a view of a garden and the ocean is nearby. I breathe in fresh air and think about what changes need to be made. Reasonably, it can be finished within the allotted time.
I'll have to explain this to my team, which comprises of fellow scientists, assistants, and interns. They'll understand. They are loyal and do whatever I say.
My son also works with me. Dave is an intern and his passion for science makes me proud. I've raised him right, but also, I think his interest in science is genetic. We have many similarities and he's mature enough to handle a project which centers around female sexuality.
***
The following week is a nightmare, as I expected. The conflict in my heart is strong, but I am resolute. My sector suffered a massive loss as many on my team have already been transferred to other departments.
I have three more days to put the final touches on the redesigned project. This kind of pressure always brings out the best and worst of me. Best because it forces me to be creative. Worse because I often cut corners and push people to their limits.
Our latest female model is a young woman named Zhang and she is someone who has great difficulties having an orgasm. It's more common than people think and she's willing to share her body with us for the good of science. Other than that, she's in perfect health.
Zhang wears a medical gown with nothing underneath. She sits down while we connect the neurolink wires to her head -- a simple process.
I activate the small device and my team of 6 people monitor everything. On different screens, we can see Zhang's brain waves, heart rate, and other details of her body function. At this point, we're ready to go. We've done other successful tests in the previous days, but this is our first sexual trial.
"Stand up," I say, before telling her, "Now sit down... Stand up again and walk towards me... Now go back to your seat."
Success. Our subject, while fully aware, is responding to my command without thinking and without hesitation. She knows she is being controlled while it's happening and she finds it to be amusing. Everyone in the lab is excited by it.
It's a real shame that such a revolutionary device must now be tailored for sexual purposes, but I'm certain that the Board and CEO will soon be on my side. Such technology is destined to leave a mark on this world for the better.
Now it's time to get serious. I tell her to lay back on the cushioned exam table. She complies and I tell her to lift her medical gown to expose her vagina. Her feet are propped on stirrups and we can see her exposed. My team brings a camera to her vaginal area to record what happens next. We're close to the moment of truth, maybe it'll work, maybe not.
I provide Zhang with a vibrator.
"Give yourself an orgasm," I say.
The look on Zhang's face is determination. She is ready for this experience in her life and she complies. With the vibrator activated and the camera recording, Zhang begins to masturbate. Her vital signs and brain function look encouraging, since there is a steady increase in activity.
It appears the research is going well, but suddenly she stops and pulls the vibrator out of herself. Her arousal signs on the screen drop and her functions are returning to a normal state. She sits upright.
"I'm sorry," Zhang says. "I can't. I don't know what happened."
"Don't worry, it's okay," I reply.
We shut off the device and remove the neurolink from her head. As always, we check her mental and physical state to make sure she's okay. She's fine, as expected, but extremely disappointed that she couldn't reach a climax and that the experiment failed.
*
It's 5:23 p.m. and I'm exhausted sitting behind my desk going over our analysis. The rest of my team have already gone home, while my son is cleaning equipment in the lab area. I'm pleased with the work he's done today and he's more than proven himself.
I type a brief report to the Director of Research and I'm honest about everything. We're close and I explain that we're a few tweaks away from a breakthrough. I do everything short of begging for more time, because I know I won't get it.
Tomorrow we continue and time is running out. Ideas are swirling in my head, but I can tell that my son wants to go home. I owe him a burger and fries from a nearby restaurant for putting him through this.
