✅ A Dose of Humiliation

83. Testing Limits

"Yeah," he said. "It's not like... official. But he told me you're feeling a little confused about it. Like if you're dating, or friends with benefits, or what. And he doesn't understand it either, but he wants to make it easier for you. So he's talked to me and my... friends."

"You won't help me?" I gasped. "I wanted to call him, but–"

"His parents would overhear," Josh finished the sentence. "Yeah, I know. And I know you've got needs, whether that's natural or boosted by the crap that they've put in your system. That's why he's not going to get mad. He told me so we're all on the same page, and there's no random guilt. The other guys, especially Ste, got warned off. He just told me to be careful with your feelings. That guy really cares about you, you know. He wants to make sure you're safe, that's what matters to him. So... you want to imagine what I'd be doing to you if you were here right now?"

I hesitated. I'd thought Clint would be hurt. Somehow I'd never imagined that he might be mad, even though most guys would be. But he was just thinking about what was best for me, and somehow that was even worse. He was giving me permission to play around, even though he knew I would do it anyway. He'd done his best to make sure that I didn't feel guilt; but I hated that he couldn't trust me better than that. I knew I should try to contain my urges, but... But I couldn't stop myself. I needed a release now, something to break through all the tension, and give me just a little dose of endorphins to keep my spirits up while I went to see a new pharmacist.

"Come on," I said. "Maybe I shouldn't, but that makes it fun. And once this is sorted, maybe we can sort out something more... agreeable, I guess?" I didn't know what I was saying. Would Clint actually agree to me randomly having video sex with some random guy any time he wasn't available? That would be a terrible thing to ask for, but I didn't doubt he would be okay with it. He only cared about my needs, after all, which was why I needed to try extra hard to think about what was good for him as well.

Just as soon as I didn't have weird nanotech in my brain that I could blame for every indiscretion. Because right now, he would know that it wasn't really my choice, and I hoped that would make it easier for him to forgive.

Josh was a little shy in the circumstances, but I could tell that he still wanted me. Maybe if I hadn't pushed Clint to do all that stuff, Josh would have been waiting in the wings when he thought that I was able to give consent again. He would have been good for me, I was sure, in spite of his reputation.

* * *

Half an hour later, I was stumbling down to breakfast with the family. I felt bad about it, but at least I had a smile on my face. The afterglow this time would keep me from having a breakdown during the appointment, and I knew that was all I really needed. I also knew that I was making excuses to myself; I'd been horny, and I was telling myself whatever I would believe to justify it. But hopefully I could learn to take control of that once I got the antidote. And if I didn't, well... I would find out how far Clint's tolerance actually went. Either I would learn to control myself, or he would realise he was okay with it, or Josh would be more open to promiscuity, or I would choose a life of casual sex and one night stands over having a real relationship. I didn't know which option would pan out, because I really didn't know what kind of person I would be once my mind was my own again.

"You ready for today?" Mum said, and I could hear just how worried she was. "I really don't want to see you go through this."

"Well..." I started, and bit back the rest of the sentence. She'd never really approved of giving me the Punishment Pill, and had only gone through with it because she thought there was no other option. And she knew full well that Becker would have given her the same kind of punishment if he could find a remotely believable lie to justify it. I didn't want to hurt her. "It's better than the alternative. I'd rather suffer a few weeks of whatever indignity it saddles me with. Better than getting classed unqualified. Because that'll last for life."

"I'm so proud of you," she said, and she couldn't keep from crying any longer. "Even when we've... made so many problems for you. You're doing the mature thing, and finding a way to safeguard your future, keeping your father out of jail at the same time."

"It'd be more mature if she didn't feel that need for assault," Dad growled, but I could see that he was positioning the breakfast bar between himself and both of us before he spoke. He was less worried about an angry slap, and more about the insult to his masculinity because Mum had reminded him that he could go to jail for what he had done to me. A part of him was afraid, and he felt like he had to respond to that by acting like he was in the right. I wondered what it would be like to feel so insecure. Probably like me, telling Josh that there was nothing wrong with casual cybersex because it would make me feel better. Me and Dad were both coming up with justifications that we didn't really believe because we didn't have the self control to actually do what we knew was right.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But you found a pharmacist, right? So we can get this sorted. Go back to being a happy family."

"Yeah. And we know you're still... young. You need some space to rebel a little, so we can't really blame you for all of this. So I've found a pharmacist willing to do this, like you asked. But they said..." and then he stammered into silence. I wondered what else there could have been that I would need to deal with. Was there an extra cost? Some kind of paperwork? Or something that Dad wanted from me, to prove that I respected him for helping me to get out of a situation he had thrown me into?

"I know it's hard, dear," Mum said. And this sounded like something that had been rehearsed, so I guessed that they had known about this last night, and just didn't have the nerve to tell me up front. "You can't control your impulses, can you? But apparently a lot of... young people become aggressive or violent when faced with a second dose. It's some neurological thing, he said, related to the reaction from the first dose. So in case you lose control..."

"I don't want to lose control," I said, but I knew that there was a good chance I wouldn't have any choice. I already knew what that felt like, and I didn't want to spoil my own chances of getting free of this from some artificial neurochemical outburst. Maybe that was just because the kids who needed a second shot were usually the real delinquents; but I didn't want to bet my future on it. "So how do we stop that?"

"The pharmacists union now suggests that any kids going in for a second dose are..." Dad mumbled, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. But he put down a plastic bag on the table, and the contents spoke for themselves. A set of disposable plastic handcuffs, the kind secured with cable ties, and with a hook on the top where something like a leash could be attached. It was awful, degrading, and it took all my self control not to lash out at him when I saw it.

But I held myself back. I wanted this dose. In the real world, I needed it. And if there was any chance that I would fight back against my own better judgement, then restraints made perfect sense. I still hated the idea, and I was angry, but I hated it less than the prospect of living my whole life unemployed and in poverty without a university degree. So I presented my hands and let Mum clip them together behind my back. I was fighting against panic now, but I knew this was the only option. And by forcing myself to breathe slowly, and reminding myself just how much fun it could be if I could buy a set of these for Josh or Clint to experiment with later... I could stay calm as I sat helpless in the car.

Dad drove me round to the parking area under the Mercer Center, and I just hoped that this indignity would be worth it. Sooner or later, I would have a life of my own, and I had to keep looking forward to that. I could keep on telling myself that the future was the important part, and that I could cope with a few more weeks.

I was so focused on the little mantras I repeated to myself as we walked towards the elevator that I barely paid attention to the figure coming in the opposite direction. I was talking to myself, trying not to think about the world around me or what I was due to experience. And then a couple of words cut into my meditative state.

"Well, it looks like this little rebel is resigned to her fate this time." It wasn't the words that triggered the fight or flight response, and made me struggle as Dad held tight on my chains. It was the sneering superiority of the voice saying them.

Andrew Becker's voice.