Phase II: Depressed

The doctor considered what his discovery might mean. As Meredith had said, it could be part of a "Make a Wish" program, allowing terminal patients to experience joy as volunteers happily helped them live out their sexual fantasies.

But there was the other side to it -- benefit to the recipient, not the sender. Meredith had reported that the transmissions from Carl gave her a good feeling surpassing any orgasm she had ever felt. What effect could that have on people beyond just a good feeling?

It could be a form of sexual therapy. Women who didn't experience orgasms from sexual stimulation might get something even better -- maybe it would open up their natural responses.

But as he thought about it, the potential was wider. What effect could a super-orgasm have on people with other ailments? What about something as basic as depression? Even if it helped a small fraction, it could be a huge business. He filed a patent.

If the effect was for the benefit of the recipient, the donor should be a healthy person in the prime of life. Ethics committees would have trouble approving risky surgery for a healthy person. He needed someone dedicated to the project. Dr. Monroe thought of himself. He had the electrodes implanted by an excellent neurosurgeon colleague of his in Russia, where ethical concerns were not as much of an issue.

He smiled as he considered the potential side benefits to his experiment.

Jenny slumped in the ward's lounge, looking at nothing in particular. Other patients shuffled around, mumbled to themselves, or just paced. Many just sat, like her.

She was 23 and a hopeless case. Treatment-resistant depression. She had been tried on twenty-odd different medications. They had zapped her brain with ECT. None of it did any good. She had tried to kill herself three times, and the last time had come pretty close. She mused about how she could really pull it off the next time they let her out.

Time for her case conference. Every Thursday at 2:30. After the usual drivel about her diet and physical condition and mental assessment and how well she did with the OT (pathetic "play" for grown-ups), there was something new. Her psychiatrist Dr. Bernstein said a colleague wanted to meet with the two of them privately.

"Hello, Jennifer, I hope you are no worse than usual today?" asked Dr. Bernstein. She had to hand it to him: at least he didn't say, "How are you feeling today, Jennifer?" with a loud, cheery voice. She was tempted to answer that kind of question with, "Life sucks, I feel awful, and fuck you too!" So Dr. Bernstein gave her an iota of respect by recognizing her basic condition.

"Jenny, this is Dr. Green."

"Hi, Ms. Jones," said the new doctor, a middle-aged woman. "You can call me Cathy. What should I call you?"

Jenny looked at her dully. Oh, she was going to be Respected. She felt better already, ha ha. "Jenny is fine," she said.

Dr. Bernstein said, "Jenny, you know we have tried every treatment we can think of for your depression, and that means you are eligible for experimental treatments as well. You have tried a couple."

Yeah, that one that made her pee her pants and nearly vomit when she turned her head sharply to the left; that one had been fun!

"Dr. Green is going to describe a new opportunity."

"Jenny, this one is very strange. I won't pussyfoot around. It has to do with sex."

That got her attention.

"Let me cut to the heart of the matter. There is a man, one Dr. Monroe, who is wired to send signals from his brain to yours when you wear a halo -- kind of like a hat with no center. We think that when he feels pleasure, you will too. When he eats a piece of chocolate cake, you will feel the pleasure he gets. Naturally enough, the strongest pleasure we humans feel is sex. The hope is that when you absorb sexual pleasure sensations from him, it might help with your depression."

"What does he do, fuck me?" Jenny asked.

"If you decided that was what you really wanted to do, it is a possibility at some point. The one rule that is very clear is that you never do anything you don't want to. We were going to start with such measures as him masturbating or having sex with a different woman."

"Oooo, do I get to watch him jerk off? Or watch him hump the other chick?"

"That is also a possibility."

This was all so bizarre Jenny wondered what planet she was on now.

"I realize this seems very unusual. Sex therapy for depression has been tried and found ineffective. The new element here is the transmission of his pleasure directly to your brain."

Like most kids, Jenny had experimented with sex. She had masturbated as a young teen and learned about orgasms. She had let a couple boys in high school fuck her, painful experiences she preferred not to think about. Mark, in college, had been more experienced. After a few times, she had gotten to understand how it worked, understood how she could feel a little pleasure from the fucking motion, in and out. He brought her to orgasms now and then with his fingers.

"And what are the chances all this stuff will make me better?"

"We don't know. You would be one of the very first half dozen volunteers. However, even if this didn't help you, or made you worse, you might be contributing to a cure for others with your condition."

"I don't give a shit about others with my condition," she said. But she did, deep down. She cared a great deal about them -- and about herself.

The first time she never even saw the transmitting doctor. They put a halo on her, and she did feel a little tingling when he ate a square of chocolate. The technician adjusted a knob to increase the strength of the signal until she described her pleasure as she used to feel when she ate chocolate. She was then told that he was masturbating in the next room, and she did feel a buzz in her brain. It was more pleasure than she had felt in months. When he came, it was a big rush. She felt her pussy get wet.

They escorted her back to the hospital and asked her about her mood every ten minutes, or so it seemed. Within a few hours she felt as bad as ever. After waiting three days, they were ready for the next Phase. She wore the halo for a morning and afternoon session for three days in a row, and was told the good doctor was engaging in sexual intercourse with a woman. The memory of his orgasms seemed to perk her up and she felt pretty good while it was going on, though she was reluctant to admit it. She had felt little blips of happiness from a number of the drugs she had been tried on, but they never lasted. Still, she dutifully reported her improved mood -- it might help someone later. Just as she feared, after the treatments stopped, she went right back to feeling horrible.

"I'm your local Martian," said the doctor when she first met him, pointing to the electronics that stuck out of his head. It was no worse than him wearing headphones, that was all -- not even that bad.

"Here we are in this incredibly awkward situation. Sex is on the table. We might have intercourse if you decided to go that far, but maybe we'll just be doing stuff like masturbation -- or maybe nothing at all." As he spoke he put the halo on her head and seated it firmly. Then they sat on the love seat side by side. The only other furniture in the room was a bed.

"Whatever," Jenny said. It was hard to be totally apathetic under these circumstances, though.

"I should tell you, Jenny, that I think your are very attractive."

She had looked in the mirror that morning. She knew people used to say she was pretty, but at this point she looked just dull. "Oh yeah, right," Jenny said. Another phony.

"I mean it. Yeah, I can see you've been feeling depressed, but I can see underneath it too. And not just your face is attractive -- you have a very sexy body, too."

Jenny had half a mind to walk out -- who was this guy who thought he had the license to talk about her body? But of course, that was exactly what she had given him license to do. That and other sexy stuff. She could walk out, but she didn't want to. Maybe it would help some other depressed people later.

She realized she had also felt a little glimmer when he said that. He really did find her sexy -- or was it just that she felt sexy from him telling her she was sexy? It was hard to tell.

"Jenny, could I touch your hair?" he asked quietly.

What was that surge she felt? She didn't mind his touching her hair -- but now she also wanted him to touch it. She wanted him to because she knew that when he did -- oooo, she felt sexy. She saw him stealing glances at her breasts through her blouse. He wanted to touch her there too, she knew it. She couldn't quite believe that she guided his hand to her breast, and felt just the way she thought she would -- felt his excitement at cupping and stroking it.

Suddenly it struck her as alarming -- this was all too strange.

She broke away sharply and ran for the door. On the way out she tossed off her halo -- and felt a big letdown. What was happening to her?

Doctor Green was waiting in the anteroom.

"Hi, Jenny," said the woman doctor nonchalantly. "How's it going?"

"Oh, shit!" said Jenny. "I don't know!"

"Want to say more?" she asked pleasantly.

Jenny shook her head.

"What we expect might happen is that you would feel Doctor Monroe's sexual excitement for you. Is that part of it?"

Jenny nodded.

"The idea is that you can be as sexual with the doctor as you both want -- though for his part I think we know that he finds you very attractive.

"The doctor is certified free of STIs -- as are you. You will also recall that your period is due in a couple days, so sexual intercourse would be safe -- IF you decided you wanted to do that."

"I don't know ... I don't know ... Can I go back to the hospital and think about it?"

"Certainly you can," the doctor said. "Just wait here a few minutes and I'll arrange an escort."

But it was less than a minute before Jenny said, "I think I've changed my mind. Can I go back in?"

"Sure!"

As Jenny entered, the doctor was slumped on the sofa. He sat up and brightened immediately.

"Jenny!" he said. "Nice to see you again."

Jenny stopped, uncertain what to say. Part of her was incensed. "You want to fuck me, right? This halo is a trick to let you fuck me."

"It's always up to you. I find you very attractive, Jenny, it's true. I'll admit I was disappointed when you left, and if you leave again I'll be disappointed again. The idea of having sex with you is very appealing. But don't worry about me, I'll be fine!

"Our hope is that having sex -- if you decide you want to do that -- will not only be pleasurable for me, but that your pleasure will be linked to what you do, and it might help you with your depression."

"Nothing is going to help my depression!" Jenny said hotly.

"OK, it might let us learn things to help others." After a pause, he said, "What have you got to lose? Your dignity, I suppose."

Jenny took a deep breath and put the halo back on and walked over to him. She felt his desire for her -- felt it right inside her head. When she touched her own breast, she felt his thrill. When she slid her hand up the inside thigh of her jeans, she could tell he was excited and wanted more. More to the point, so did she!