UPREGULATED
Teaser: A woman tells her date about her experiences as a research subject
Science is boring.
How do I know? Listen, you little Miss Curiosity-killed-the-cat; you buy me a mojito, and I’ll tell you.
I was in research. No, not as a research assistant. As a ‘subject’, which is a euphemism for a ‘guinea pig’ in a clinical study.
I would get 1000 dollars, for spending a week ‘in house’, and a follow up visit. Not bad if you’re a student. Added bonus, the clinical study was into ‘a breakthrough therapy on obesity’.
“Welcome, I’m Dr. Shepherd,” the investigator introduced herself. A woman in her forties, plainly dressed, wearing glasses, a real academic type. “I’m glad you’re willing to be part of my study. In order to participate, you have to give informed consent, so I have to inform you. It may take a while.”
“For 1000 dollars, I have a lot of time,” I laughed.
“Fine,” Dr. Shepherd smiled too. She offered me a big stack of paper; the title page stated: ‘A phase I dose escalating study establishing safety and tolerability of the MC1 Metabolic Control bioregulatory device. “I reckon this is just a lot of scientific gibberish to you. So let me ask you a blunt question instead. You’re concerned about your weight?”
“I am,” I admitted. “I could lose a few pounds. But, you know, pizza is very seductive.”
“When you want to be seduced.”
“The flesh is weak, I was told.”
“It’s not about willpower,” Dr. Shepherd asserted. “It is about metabolism. Some people can eat what they want.”
“Yeah, I’d love to have that metabolism.”
“Good, because that’s what this clinical study is all about. ”
Dr. Shepherd opened a drawer and showed me a soft pink plastic disc, about an inch across, a few millimetres thick in the centre, and tapering off to the edges; a mini-USB port, perpendicular to the surface, was covered by a small lid. When closed, the port was hardly visible. “Please meet Reggie, or ‘regulator’.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Reggie will be glued to the back of your neck.” Dr. Shepherd handed the device to me. “It’s not very conspicuous, and Reggie will be covered by your hair. And you’ll be in house anyway.”
I toyed a bit with Reggie, sticking it to my arm and neck, where it fell off. I picked it up again.
“This Reggie is just a demonstration model,” Dr. Shepherd explained. “The real Reggie is a wonderful piece of nano-bio-engineering. It will grow from the base of your neck into your limbic system, where it will modulate the HPT-axis and related systems.”
“Wait,” I ask very concerned. “You’re fucking with my brain?”
“Not really,” Dr. Shepherd assured me. “We’re only upregulating some very basic autonomic processes, like energy expenditure. Reggie does not interfere with what you think. You’re still you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Okay,” I said. “So it’s safe?”
“Nothing happened to the previous subjects; and if something might happen, we pull the kill switch on Reggie.”
I nodded: “I’ll do it.”
Dr. Shepherd had informed me on the boring science and the non-existing risks, so that I could give informed consent, but she hadn’t informed me on such mundane practicalities as the fact that I would be locked up in a room with a fellow student for a whole week, with no access to internet and social media.
“Subject confidentiality and trade secrets,” she clarified when I asked.
Luckily it was not co-ed; actually this whole project seemed an all-female affair.
“You will be supervised 24/7,” Dr. Shepherd explained. “If anything happens, if you feel unwell or if you run out of pizza, there will be someone to help you out. Emily has the day shift and performs the daily medical checkups; Tamara does the evening and graveyard shifts.”
The first day was awkward. I was hastily introduced to Jane, my roommate for the week, just before we were requested to lie face down on examination tables. The ‘promising experimental treatment’ was an anticlimax. Emily opened a single use sterilised container which contained a Reggie, inserted a USB cable, and unceremoniously stuck it to the nape of Jane’s neck. I saw the cable dangling from her shoulder. Emily then repeated the procedure on me and inserted the cables into a desktop.
“You two have to lie still. Reggie needs to be firmly attached to your skin before it can be initialized.”
She walked out, leaving us behind.
We could do little else but watch each other. My roomie was truly a plain Jane; hardly cheerleader material. Like me, but radiating a slightly more serious attitude. Brunette. A little chubby but otherwise normal featues. Casually dressed; her jeans were austere compared to my flashy ripped ones.
“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Jane grinned.
As I told you, the first days were fucking boring. No classes, no phone, no internet. Jane was a nice enough gal, but she spent long hours studying. I tried to do the same, but, you know, there was no test coming up and then it’s difficult to keep yourself focused.
Jane and I were basically locked up in a small loft. We had a view—on another drab campus building. There was a separate examination room, which was usually locked to prevent us from messing with the fancy equipment, so besides the bathroom there was no privacy.
The loft was furbished with two single beds, a couch, a TV, a kitchenette where we could microwave pizzas, and two spinner bikes. I didn’t feel like working out, but I could sit on the spinner, pretending to move the pedals while actually listening to some music.
The most exciting event was the morning check up by Emily. She plugged a cable into Reggie, checked its status and downloaded monitoring data. Now that Reggie was tightly attached, we could sit instead of lie down, but it was a weird sight anyway: Two girls with cables running from their neck into a computer.
On Wednesday, I noticed something: “It’s hot in here.”
“Yeah,” Jane said. “It sure is. Someone turned up the heater.”
I knocked on the door of the examination room: “Emily, could you turn down the fucking heater!? We’re melting in here!”
Emily opened the door: “I didn’t adjust the heater. You adjusted your internal heater. Reggie’s working; it stimulated your metabolism.”
“How?”
“Thermogenesis in the liver. You’re just burning excess calories instead of storing them.”
“Cool,” Jane said.
“Hot, you mean!” I laughed.
“This is exactly what we want to achieve,” Emily said. “And to be honest, we’re seeing this effect consistently with all the subjects.”
“You don’t seem completely happy with that,” I said.
“Well, you know...” Emily hesitated. “When I started my Ph. D. here, I hoped I could participate too. I mean, this research is taking so long. I... ”
She blushed a bit.
I wanted to change into something less sweaty and then decided to provoke Jane a bit. I unzippered my hoodie; revealing my bra underneath, and walked around. Normally, this would annoy my fellow dorm mates, urging me to behave or even that they weren’t dykes. Well, neither was I, but the stir it caused was always a nice distraction from assignments and term papers.
Jane, however, didn’t care too much.
“That’s actually a smart idea,” she said.”But I’ll ask Emily if she can bring something suitable.”
Emily wasn’t surprised either when she saw us: “Happens with most subjects. I’ll bring a few options.”
We changed into tank tops and running pants. Jane returned to her books, I sat down and tried to listen to some music again.
I was fidgety and couldn’t find a right position on the couch. I changed from the couch to the spinner bikes, where my restless legs could blow off some steam by moving the pedals. I choose a different playlist; something a bit more upbeat. It kicked off with the classic workout song ‘Eye of the tiger’. Just listening to some music and pedalling a bit felt good. I relaxed, forgot about time until I heard Survivor again. I checked the readout of the spinner; I had covered over 30 virtual miles. I didn’t even sweat.
Friday night.
Emily left, but instead of Tamara, the evening shift was done by a woman in her late twenties.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Lilian. I fill in for Tamara; something came up. I’m sorry; it’s currently all a bit chaotic.”
“You’re a Ph.D student like Emily?” I asked.
“Nope. I’m a post-doc here,” Lilian said. “Dr. Shepherd and I actually developed Reggie and set up this clinical study. I supervise Emily and Tamara’s work.”
“I guess you must be drowning in paper and meetings,” I said.
“Well, it’s good to be back in the lab. Even just for one night. I see all the data, but I don’t see the subjects—you.”
“Well, what do you think of us?”
“I think you deserve a little party,” Lilian said and fetched a six-pack of beers. “Jane, are you joining us?”
“Okay,” Jane yelled. “I guess it’s time to close my books. I actually covered a lot of ground this week.”
“All work and no play makes Jane a dull gal,” I teased. I was glad something was actually happening in this shithole.
“Look who’s talking! Miss Bike-around-the-world,” she retorted.
We shared the beer. It tasted good. Emily and Tamara had been so damn busy with their research that they hardly paid any real attention to us, but Lilian was in a talkative mood. We gossiped about College, girlie stuff, and boys.
“You know,” Jane suddenly confessed.”I’m horny.”
“What do you mean, horny?” I asked.
“Just what I said. Horny. I want to fuck.”
“Bad luck today; no guys around,” I smirked. A pause. “But I know what you’re saying. I’m feeling raunchy too.”
Now that I said it, I realized I really was feeling salacious. The workouts dulled that feeling a bit, but they didn’t take it away, actually made me feel more physical.
“Actually, I’m not amazed,” Lilian said. “It’s apparently a kind of side effect of the upregulation of your metabolism. Everything’s stimulated, you’re more energetic. More sexual energy, too.”
“We’re hot!” Jane laughed. She rubbed her inner thigh, shamelessly, the impudent girl.
“Being upregulated is fine,” I said. “But if we weren’t locked up here, I’d get out and get laid.”
“You have each other,” Lilian suggested.
“Unfortunately, I’m not a lesbian,” Jane said.
“Neither am I,” I added. “No offense Jane, but I’m just not that into you.”
“I can change that,” Lilian said. “If you like.”
“How?” I asked.
“A little reprogramming through Reggie. Sexual orientation is determined by a small basal centre in your brain, just like your metabolism. It’s all hormones, just different ones. It’s actually quite easy to flip that switch. We even originally wanted to use this as Proof of Concept that Reggie works, but the Institutional Review Board freaked out when we suggested this.”
“But it works?”
“Trust me, I know it does,” Lilian smirked. “It’s a weird experience.”
“Let’s just try it,” Jane said.
“Fuck, yeah,” I said. “Let’s try it.”
The ‘update’, as Lilian called it, was uploaded in five minutes. After Lilian unplugged the cables from our neck, I looked at Jane: “I don’t feel anything for her yet.”
“Give it an hour or two. I updated Reggie but it needs time to establish new neuronal connections.”
“Damn, I can’t wait that long,” Jane exclaimed. “I need release fucking NOW!”
She dashed off to the bathroom, and a few moments later we heard muffled moans.
“I think, ehm, Jane had an excellent idea,” I said. “If you don’t mind.”
“It’s after midnight,” Lilian nodded. “Time to call it a day. See you tomorrow.”
I rushed to bed, where I fingered myself to orgasm and fell asleep. I dreamt of white canaries.
“Rise and shine!”
I looked up and saw Tamara.
“Where’s Lilian?” I asked.
“Home, I guess,” Tamara said. “My commitment ended early so I can do the weekend shift. Get up; we have to go through the daily check-up.”
Jane was just as dazed as me, eyes groggily and hair all messed. We slipped on bathrobes to cover our naked bodies and went to the examination room. Tamara went quickly through the necessary routine, ushered us back to our own room and closed the door.
We stared at each other. The bathrobes were already hanging loose and I let mine slip off. I ogled Jane’s body. You might think it was nothing special, her lips too thin, her perky tits too small, her ass too flat. But I was really, immensely, hugely turned on.
“How do dykes do it? Jane uttered hoarsely.
“I don’t fucking know,” I blurted. “Just fuck me.”
“Let’s find out then,” Jane managed to say before our lips met. We hugged. Her hard nipples prodded my tits. I didn’t know what her hands did and where my hands went but it all felt fucking amazing.
I was so eager, too eager to really enjoy the orgasm that jolted me when Jane found my clit.
That first orgasm took the edge off my worst desire, and now we were on the couch and I had the opportunity to explore each aspect of Jane’s wonderful body.
“How can you be so soft, so smooth,” I whispered between kisses.
She pushed her leg between mine; her hand on my ass pressed my pussy against her thigh. She squeezed my soft ass and I moaned; I felt fluid flowing from my cunt, lubricating our skins. My clit rubbed her body, making me even wetter. Her hand made soft teasing strokes on the cheeks of my ass, each stroke a bit further down, just a tiny bit further between my legs until one finger slid into my cunt.
She offered me that finger and I licked it clean. “Yummy,” I said.
“There’s more where this came from,” she invited me. “My little cunt is just running over.”
I rolled on my back and she nudged her crotch on my face. I fumbled, I had never done this, never licked a woman, but I let my body take over. My body knew what to do; my body knew how to bring Jane to a screaming orgasm.
Okay, like, my memories of the remainder of that weekend are a bit blurred, you know? I don’t think we ever got dressed. I don’t think we did any workout or other activity. But yes, we were very active. Yes, I guess we ate something else besides pussy, although I’m not entirely sure. Tamara frowned a bit when she did the Sunday check-up but basically she seemed glad that we didn’t bother her.
Yes, I tried to make a pass at Tamara; the idea of a threesome titillated me. Yes, at that moment, anything involving hot naked women titillated me. It still does, by the way. I suspect Lilian might’ve taken the bait, but Tamara was too busy with whatever Ph. D students are busy with.
Yes, you titillate me too, even if you’re not naked. That’s a beautiful dress you’re wearing, by the way. No, your ass doesn’t look big in it, not too big anyway. Let’s have another mojito.
Monday.
Jane and I spooned, exhausted after a short hot night, but unwilling to let each other go. Our embrace was interrupted by Emily, who seemed distracted. Nervously she did the final checks.
“I lost eight pounds,” I noticed when she checked my weight.
“That’s above average,” Emily says.
“It’s a pity this has to end,” I said. “I feel great, with Reggie inside.”
“Yeah,” Jane acknowledged. “But it’s weird too. Like I ain’t really myself.”
“You first then, for the inactivation?” Emily asked Jane.
Jan nodded and sat down. Emily plugged her in, and typed some commands.
“That’s all, folks,” Emily continued.”Reggie is deactivated. Give it a minute to detach its grip and then you can just tear it off.”
“What happens to Reggie’s remains in my brain?” Jane asked.
“It’s bioware,” Emily shrugged. “Your immune system will clean it up, I guess.”
Jane darted off to collect her stuff.
Emily plugged me in.
“Do you really need to inactivate Reggie?” I asked.
“It’s against protocol not to,” Emily answered.
I looked at her, begging: “I really, really love this new me. With, like, the weight loss and other stuff, you know.”
“It’s against protocol,” she repeated. “I’d allow it if I could.”
“There’s no other way?”
“I understand where you’re coming from—I’d love to have a Reggie too.” Emily sighed. “I really do.”
“You’re jealous,” I said. “You want one, but you can’t have it. You’re just full of resentment.”
That was mean: Emily looked hurt. Suddenly she lightened up.
“What the hell,” she said. “Fuck protocol and fuck them all.”
Emily started typing a long string of commands.
“You’re all set,” she smiled. “You can tear off the outer unit in a minute. The inner parts, well, no one tried this before. Good luck.”
I stared at her, incredulously.
Jane and I shared a final hug, with a very final, very deep French kiss.
“Gotta go,” she said. “I’ve class today.”
I watched her walk out, her ass swaying, mesmerizing me. ‘Women are so fucking awesome,’ I thought.
You know, I never got the 1000 bucks. Six weeks later, I showed up for my follow up visit, where Dr. Shepherd would evaluate if there were ‘long term serious adverse events’, and where I would get paid. But Dr. Shepherd’s office was no longer there. The guy in the office next door said she had suddenly ‘moved on’. Silicon Valley, probably, or the military—it was all very hush-hush. He also confirmed it happened six weeks ago: Dr. Shepherd had been busy vacating the office while Emily was removing Reggie and wrapping up the experiment. I understood why Emily had been distracted—and resentful.
I walked down to the wing where I had spent a week. The couch and the beds were still there, but all the fancy equipment had gone.
No 1000 bucks, but no difficult questions either, like: How in Hell had I lost more than 20 pounds? And then there are the not-so-visible changes.
Matthew invited me for a date. We weren’t in a sort of relationship, but if we needed a no-strings-attached dinner-cum-fuck we could rely on each other. This time, something was odd. I was horny—I am continuously aroused—but Matt didn’t turn me on at all. He didn’t do anything wrong, he was still good old Matt and I felt welcome and safe. But I just could not imagine touching his cock, let alone suck it, like I used to.
I ran into Jane, but she seemed repulsed by me. Or not really repulsed, but when we hugged and I put my hand on her back, immediately going for the crack of her ass, she winced. My lips were already searching for hers, but found only air.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said. “I can’t believe we did what we did. If I think about it, it’s like a bizarre dream. It wasn’t me, couldn’t have been.”
Yes, that was all in College. I got my degree, but I’m not really suited for an office job. I’m no fitness junkie but I have to use my body. And I meet lots of interesting people doing guided walking tours for Lesbian Landmarks. You think so too? I bet you do.
So, what do you think of my story? You find it entertaining? That’s a nice way of saying that you do not believe a single words of it, that it’s total utter crap. I wouldn’t believe it either if I were you, but I wouldn’t care too much after four cocktails either.
Oh, that’s sweet of you. To say that you really like being in my company. That you are turned on by me and my little story. Let’s go then, your place or mine? My car? I walked. Yes, all the way, it takes only an hour. No, I don’t have a coat. Yes, my dress is even flimsier than yours, but I don’t need a coat unless it’s freezing cold. Yes, that’s because I’m upregulated by Reggie, not because I can show off my hard nipples pushing through the fabric. Believe it or not. Although I love showing off my nipples to you.
You won’t be cold tonight; I’ll keep us warm, I promise. I’m always hot.