The Last Bridge in Pittsburgh Ch. 03

For some reason, I woke the next morning with more energy and clarity than I'd ever had. It occurred to me that something bizarre and powerful andunique had happened to me, and I was suddenly determined not to waste whatever off-color opportunity the universe was handing me.

As I lay in bed I realized how mundane and tragic my life had been up until now. I had just been a kid, really, placidly sleepwalking through the default course of school and college and finding a job. Even what followed in two years of disaster, death, and finally resettlement - something that would have once been a tale for ages - was frankly mundane given the times we were living in. And with a year in Pittsburgh, I was slipping towards the road more travelled once again - A 9-to-5, building a house... would I wake up in a week to find that I was 90 and about to die, never having created a worthwhile story for myself?

I should have some qualms, of course, about using my special power on people - most of all, Sara, the incredible woman I had come to love. But for now, at least, I would set any such doubts I had aside. I would not miss my chance to remake my life.

I got out of bed and went looking for a piece of actual paper. I cast about until I found the journal that I had attempted to start years ago while walking north and never finished. Tearing out the first couple of occupied pages, I began to write.

> Item 1:

> I seem to have a special power that involves the ability to place minds -

I stopped and scribbled that out. I needed to be scientific about this. Qualify every unknown. I tore out another page started again.

> Item 1:

> I seem to have the ability to place at least one subject into a state of heightened suggestibility. In this state, the subject will repeat any phrase said to them. Later, when not in this state, things said to them seem to be incorporated into both vocabulary (including exact repetition of original phrases used) and, almost certainly, behavior. Possible resistance may occur in this state, but seems to be overcome by repetition of key phrases.

OK, that was better at least. Very "scientific". Air quotes intended. Now to list out unknowns.

> Unknowns / Things to Test

> 1 - What precise mechanism triggers the suggestible State? It seems very likely that it is either contact with or ingestion of my semen, but other mechanisms are possible. Perhaps something heuristic about the act of fellatio?

> 2 - What is the origin of this ability? I've been sucked off before. What changed?

> 3 - What causes subject to awaken from the State? Timing has seemed somewhat random.

> 4 - Is effect long-lasting? Do changes in behavior and vocabulary persist indefinitely?

> 5 - Is effect localized to Sara? Are others susceptible?

> 6 - If others affected, is effect similar?

I was broken from my reverie by my alarm. I glanced at the clock and immediately realized I was on shift today. I scrambled to get dressed and ready, taking the time to slip my journal into the crevice between my headboard and the wall, where Sara would not come across it.

Once I was in the car to the university, I had a moment to think again. Going over my questions, the only one that really mattered was whether I could induce the... State on anyone else. If my ability was indeed localized to Sara, not only did it probably have implications about the mechanism by which this strange power worked, but it would also sharply curtail what I could do. I somehow had to remind myself that such a scenario would be OK. I could ensure a happy, sex-filled, kinky life for the both of us if it was just her. Even deal with the hangups and blocks she clearly had around her past - make her healthier and at one with herself.

If I was being honest, though, I was hoping for more than the ability to affect just Sara.

As I pulled into the parking garage, I decided exactly what I would do - in fact, I would kill two birds with one stone.

---

An opportunity to enact my plan took longer to present itself than I had hoped. The lab, it being a Saturday, was mostly empty. After a moment alone in the bathroom once I clocked in, I wandered around the wing before realizing I was alone. Glumly, I decided to get a head start on cleaning.

The lab I worked in was a part of the pharmacology department, which meant that they produced a tremendous amount of dirty glass. When FEMA had first hooked me up with this lab tech gig, I had been assigned to the biology department. At the time, I was resentful that someone with my education was cleaning beakers and sanitizing equipment. Since being transferred to pharmacology, I had started missing the old lab - there, you could just autoclave things, and let the heat burn out whatever bacteria was there. Here, though, where they were experimenting with drugs, each piece of lab glass had to be painstakingly washed by hand twice to ensure the last sample didn't contaminate the next.

Four hours later, I was finishing the first bench's worth of pipettes when I heard a door shut behind me. I turned to see my lab's principal, Gretchen, through the small window in her office door.

Well, Gretchen would do, I thought. Hell, maybe get her off my back some. I approached her door, gave a customary knock, and stuck my head in.

"Hello Ma'am", I said, trying my best to sound deferential. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm getting a jumpstart on the clean so Cal and Eduard don't have to do it all Monday. And, I'm going out to grab a snack from the coffee bar downstairs. Can I grab you something?"

The expression on Gretchen's weathered old face flashed from annoyed at the interruption to thankful.

"Yes, thank, you, that'd be wonderful - could you get me a cold brew?" She fumbled in her purse and handed me some money.

I nearly jogged downstairs and through the tunnels that connected the campus to the college of medicine's coffee bar. I got her cold brew and a hot coffee for myself. Ducking into a single-use bathroom, I set the drinks on the baby changing station and took the lid off Gretchen's drink. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the product of my time in the bathroom earlier in the morning - a specimen vial of semen. I was glad Gretchen had asked for cold brew - I had no idea if hot coffee would have killed whatever created the State. That being said, the acidity still might. Failure here didn't necessarily mean failure generally, I told myself.

Back in Gretchen's office, I handed her the cup and her change. I lingered a moment, hoping she would take a sip. But, distracted, she fell back into whatever paper she had been reading and left it sitting on the desk. I made my exit.

For the next twenty minutes, I kept coming up with excuses to walk past her office and glance in the little vertical window on the side of the door. I was glad she hadn't covered it with a poster for privacy like many professors did. Maybe four times I went past only to see the cup unmoved, as was she as she read.

Finally, nearly running out of reasons to walk past, the cup was not where it had been. I craned my neck a little further to see my elderly boss leaning back in her chair. She was very still. I peered in through the wire-reinforced glass and saw what I admitted to myself I had been praying for - Gretchen's face was slack, her eyes distant. It had worked.

The implications of my successful experiment overwhelmed me as I reached for the doorknob, and I had to steady myself before I went in. I slipped in quietly, carefully closing the door behind me, to stand in front of her, and began to talk in a low voice.

"You like and appreciate me."

"I like and appreciate you."

"You like and appreciate me."

"I like and appreciate you."

I really didn't know how she felt about me, honestly, so I wanted to play it safe - With Sara I was working with existing affection, but to Gretchen I was a grunt she rarely thought about. I didn't want to go too hard, too fast, here. Sara clearly resisted some things, anyway.

Besides, with my experiment successful, I needed nothing urgently from her other than goodwill from my boss.

I reconsidered that as I thought it. Didn't I need anything? Clearly something was medically different with my cum. Maybe, using what I could remember from my undergraduate degree, I could use Gretchen's equipment to come to grips with my condition.

"You consider me a valuable member of your team."

"I consider you a valuable member of my team."

"You trust me."

"I trust you."

"It's normal for me to be using lab equipment for my own projects."

For the first time, Gretchen gave me resistance.

"It's ... use...". Little shakes of the head, shudders of the body. I shouldn't have been surprised - Gretchen was fiercely defensive of some of the stuff in this wing. Figures that Gretchen's only resistance to reprogramming pertained to her precious machinery. I thought about powering through, but thought better of it and decided to try another approach.

"It's important that the lab equipment be kept clean and calibrated."

"It's important that the lab equipment be kept clean and calibrated."

"It's part of my job to ensure the lab equipment is kept in the best condition."

"It's part of your job to ensure the lab equipment is kept in the best condition."

Phew, no resistance there. Though, of course, a tech like me was not supposed to touch most of the stuff in here, I could now ensure she didn't wonder why a lab tech was running his own slate of experiments.

"Anything I am doing with any of the machines must be part of my job."

"Anything you are doing with any of the machines must be part of my job."

"If you see me working with any lab equipment, you will not question it."

"If I see you working with any lab equipment, I will not question it."

No resistance to this coup. I repeated myself several times, varying my language a bit. Finally, I glanced at my watch - I had had her under for a bit. I decided not to press my luck, and slunk out quietly.

--

I took my journal and retreated to the coffee bar to think until my shift was up. Nobody would notice I was missing except for Gretchen, and she probably wouldn't mind, now. I looked back over my notes from the morning.

Items number one seemed answered. Gretchen had ingested my cum, not sucked me off, and she still dropped into the trance state. Thank goodness - I had no idea how I would have tested other people if that hadn't been the mechanism.Really, I still didn't know the mechanism - was it some protein in my cum? or some biological agent? - but at least it being something about semen and not, say, the subjective act of fellatio made sense. And, the follow-up questions that made sense.

Items five and six were happily answered as well - it wasn't just Sara. I still probably shouldn't assume every person might be affected, of course. But Gretchen's reaction did decisively prove that my ability was indeedmy ability and not some reaction specific to Sara's biology or psychology.

The pressing question that remained, I thought, was the durability of my persuasion. It occurred to me that if my suggestions weren't sticky - pardon the expression - I could be put in real danger by angry subjects. I didn't know exactly how I planned to use my abilities just yet, but even so, I should be very careful until I understood long-term effects better.

That being said, I had an idea of a very fun way to gather some more data.

--

I took the funicular up to the South Side Heights for our scheduled date night. The Hilltop was a bit fancier than we usually opted for, but I had suggested it a while back as it was the last we'd see of each other until I showed up in Arizona in a week and a half.

Sara was already there when I arrived, and had snagged a table by the railing of the balcony. I sat down and was treated to an impressive vista looking out onto the abandoned neighborhoods on the slope and the bustling downtown beyond, backlit by the construction downriver.

Sara turned in her chair to greet me while gesturing to the view. "Beautiful, huh?"

I smirked. "You are stunning, that's for sure. But it's rude to brag!"

She smiled back at me and swatted me on the arm. "You KNOW what I mean. You can see the whole city from up here."

"You do look incredible, though." I responded, not untruthfully. Sara rarely wore dresses or makeup, but tonight she had on lipstick and a stunning little black dress that showed enough to make my mind race.

Sara did the little readjustment in her seat that she always did when she received a compliment. "Thanks! I thought I'd match the venue. And it's my last day in town for a while. How was your day?"

"Actually not so bad - the lab was basically empty, though Gretchen was in for a bit. It's looking like work will be a little more relaxing soon." I said, smiling. "How about you?"

"Just packing, really. I had to go find all my summer clothes because it's a billion degrees down there, which was a pain. I'm really not looking forward to moving boxes in the heat all day."

"Well, you won't be alone, at least!" I offered.

"Oh I know, you're such a gentleman for coming down to move it all back" - she smiled and touched my arm - "but you don't have to pack up the house. That's going to be terrible in the dry heat."

"Oh, I didn't mean me. I meant your sister. Won't she -"

"Yes, yes, she'll help, I'm sure. I suppose she'll be in pretty good shape after years of firefighting. Maybe I can get her to do all the heavy lifting." The corners of Sara's mouth twisted down almost imperceptibly. I was about to respond, but thankfully the waiter came by to take our orders and kept me from putting my foot in my mouth.

We had a great dinner. Fancy place that the Hilltop was, it actually had chicken, which I ordered and devoured with relish, while Sara ordered a salad thinking it would be a small meal, only to be delivered a truly enormous bowl of greens which she drafted me to help with.

We were both picking lettuce out of our teeth - in a manner rather unbecoming of the venue - when I found a way to introduce my foot to my mouth after all.

"Why... Why bother going to Arizona? And packing everything up? It's not like you need the furniture." I paused. Sara's expression had grown a little stretched again. I seized her hand and continued. "What I mean is, going back clearly stresses you out. Talking about it is probably the unhappiest I've ever seen you. Why bother?" I paused to squeeze her palm. "Look, I'm not trying to make you talk about your feelings or anything. But for my part, I know I would totally break down if I had to go back to Atlanta after what happened. So I'm just not going to go, y'know? And I know that's different, but clearly this weighs on you lot, so it can't be totally different." The words tumbled out of me as I gripped her hand.

Sara's had an odd expression on her face. Something between cross and sad. She turned her eyes towards the empty riverbed below us.

"Well, there are a bunch of papers of my dad's that I need to find. Supposedly joint stock papers, so probably worth some money." She put up a hand to stop me objecting to this reasoning. "But, the real reason is Ava." She trailed off for a couple of seconds. "I guess, now that she's out of the Corps - well, more now that she's being resettled here... I realize I sort of can't keep avoiding her. It's time to patch things up, I guess. More than that... I'm worried about her. When she writes, it's so clear she's in a dark place. I need to make sure she's alright. This seemed like the best way to make sure." Her shoulders drooped.

"That's... that's very noble." I reached up and turned her face towards mine. "Whatever happens, Ava's very lucky to have you. I wish I'd known - I wouldn't have yelled at you about furniture."

Sara let out something between a laugh and a sob before smiling.

"Well, it remains to be seen if I can avoid killing her after being stuck alone with her for a week."

She paused as the waiter delivered our desert - Hilltop's signature Creme Brûlée, made with real cream. We both closed our eyes as we took our first bite.

--

It hadn't been the plan for Sara to come over after dinner. She had to finish packing. But I only realized this once she was kissing me in the car I'd called for myself.

In no time at all, Sara had hurried me down to the basement, pushed me back on the bed, tugged my pants down to my ankles, and fished me out of my briefs.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were going to miss me" I smirked.

"Yeah? Are you sure you're not going to be the one missing me?" Sara smirked as she rubbed my cock.

"I've got to say, it's quite the tactic getting me suddenly hooked on your mouth and then leaving for a week."

"Not intentional. I guess I've been a little surprised at myself these past few days." Sara beamed up at me. "I know I'm not as... I know I haven't been as fast as you're used to, in bed. I guess I was feeling a little insecure." She saw me about to politely contradict her and waved me off with my own dick. "But, being able to make you feel good like this makes me feel like I'm... giving back, you know? It's rewarding."

"Giving back? Babe, you won't let me get YOU off at all!" I protested. "It's me who should be giving back."

"Maybe when we're back from Arizona." Sara scowled. "Now shush."

Her lips engulfed me.

--

When she slipped under I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Sara was going to be away for nearly a week - now was my opportunity to see if ideas and phrasing I planted in her mind stuck long term.

"You're going to miss me on your trip."

"I'm going to miss you on my trip."

"You're going to miss me more than you thought while you're away."

"I'm going to miss you more than I thought while I'm away."

"You'll miss sucking my cock."

"I'll miss sucking your cock."

"You'll fantasize about my cock."

"I'll fantasize about your cock."

"You'll fantasize about sucking me off."

"I'll fantasize about sucking you off."

"Remembering blowing me will make you happy."

"Remembering blowing you will make me happy."

"You'll look forward to sucking me again."

"I'll look forward to sucking you again."

OK, I needed some way to know if these were sticking.

"You'll tell me how much you miss my cock when we call."

"I'll tell you..." twitch, twitch, shake.

I'd worried about this. In the past, Sara had been bashful when talking about sex when we were in bed together and downright shy about it in any other setting. We'd never sexted or anything like that. But I had to keep going. And hey, it would be good for her to get over this hangup. It was modern times.

"You'll tell me how much you miss my cock when we call or text."

"I'll tell you how much I miss.. uh" She shuddered, just a bit.

"You'll tell me how much you miss my cock when we call or text"

"I'll tell you how much I miss your cock when we callll... or text". There we go.

I repeated this instruction a couple of times more before I saw the look on her face beginning to clear.

--

Sara had practically sprinted out the door when she had seen the time. I guess she hadn't budgeted time to be dropped into a lengthy state of suggestibility, I chuckled to myself.

It was late, but I was fired up. I'd had a productive day, at least in terms of figuring out the parameters of my strange ability. More than that, I'd been decisive, fearless even. Energized, I meandered upstairs to use the last few hours of my night getting a start on the electrical work.

When I got there, though, I found something odd. My computer was on the floor, and beside it was a bottle of wine.