This is what happens when you start talking about human click-training fantasies around enscenic and I, someone suggests that we try our hands at stories based on the same titles, and then she and I feel compelled to write those stories. (Funny, there may have been some “clicking” sounds as people were telling us to do this. <shrug>.) Anyhow, people can find out about “click training” here. And I’ll post a link to enscenic‘s version here.
(WARNING-contains scenes of a suggestive nature, intended for mature audiences, viewer discretion advised. One or both of the stories may contain mind control, non-consentual situations, same gender sex, masturbation, graphic nudity, non-graphic nudity, mindfuckery, and jingles. Please do not operate heavy machinery after reading it.)
Also, please enjoy! <click>
I’d say that Michelle was a little out of my league. In fact, I’d say she was a lot out of my league. But when you’re a junior in college, life is short, the hormones are strong, and you just don’t second-guess it when a smoking hot girl lands in your lap at a party and tells you to take her home.
I would have figured it for a one-night stand, but she kept calling me and asking me to take her places. Again-who was I to second-guess my luck?
Now, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t say I was a social outcast, but I wasn’t in a frat, I hated College Football, and was barely a back-up defensive midfielder for our Division II team. Michelle was a sophomore and well on her way to being a head cheerleader; she was peroxide blonde, tan, built like a teenage boy’s wet dream, and smart. She was going to be a doctor, she would say. And I believed her. She was bossy, and… I guess I kind of liked it.
My best friend didn’t.
“So that’s all it takes, huh?” Jennifer asked me right after Michelle had asked me… all right, she had really told me where and when I was meeting her… all right, taking her to dinner. “That’s all it takes for what?”
“To grab and tag you.” She replied.
“Oh… shut up, Jailbait.”
She shoved me good-naturedly. “Shut up, yourself, Beanpole.”
Jennifer (always “Jennifer” to everyone else and never “Jenni” or “Jen”) and I had met on the first day of college and became close friends, navigating our new experiences together. We helped each other in the classes we had deficits in; Jennifer was a psychology major, and helped me through all the Humanities. I was in engineering and helped her though the core math classes. Fresh out of high school I was tall-much taller than Jennifer—and skinny. She immediately started calling me “Beanpole.”
Jennifer, on the other hand, was super tiny, with dark hair and features and, when I met her, still with braces. She was in college a year early, having skipped her senior year. Even though she was just 17 when she started college, she looked 14. So, of course, I called her “Jailbait.” Nothing romantic ever happened between us… I don’t know… I just didn’t think there was any chemistry–any “click” between us–you know? I just didn’t think I was her type.
Other than a couple of times when she would go home to see her high school sweetheart and when I had a couple of weekends home, we were inseparable. So Michelle’s appearance on the scene caused some slight tension. Oddly, Michelle wasn’t actually jealous of Jailbait…. I mean, Jennifer. I think she didn’t consider her a threat.
For the most part, Jennifer seemed happy I was getting some, but there was always a little snarkiness after Jennifer would see me with Michelle. Early on I swore I heard her say something like “even with her resting bitchface.” But I let it go, since it seemed they eventually settled into a mutual acceptance of each other’s existence.
We walked to our next classes in silence.
Finally, after a thoughtful minute, she turned to me and asked, “You’ll still help me with that psychology experiment, right?”
“What? Oh sure. What do I have to do?”
“Well… I can’t tell you. Just know that I’ll be doing some strange things around you for the next week or so, and seeing how you react. But I promise I’ll tell you all about it when it’s all done.”
“Oh. OK. I trust you. As long as it isn’t like when you tried hypnosis on me and I slept through the fire alarm.”
She laughed. “No. This’ll be different. Much different.” She got another dreamy look on her face for a second.
“Sure. It’ll be fine.” I responded, and turned to leave.
She grabbed my arm suddenly and almost whispered, “No. I need you to say it very affirmatively. Do you, Jean-Paul, consent to me experimenting on you for the next two weeks? And that you’ll be open to whatever happens and won’t ask any questions until the experiment is over.”
I paused and looked down at her into her suddenly serious grey eyes. “Yes. I, Jean-Paul, consent to you, Jennifer Anderson, experimenting on me for the next two weeks. And I’ll be open to whatever happens and I won’t ask any questions until the experiment is over.”
As I was talking, she reached into her jeans pocket, and, right when I finished, I heard this weird clicking sound, just as she smiled. “Good. Thank you! I knew I could count on you. All right, I’ll see you later.”
I watched as she walked off, then shook my head as I ran to class.
The next couple days, I would hear that clicking noise over and over again whenever Jennifer was around. She had something in her pocket that she was constantly fiddling with and making those noises. I assumed it was part of the experiment.
On Monday, I was rummaging around in my bag on the ground, looking for a pen. It meant I had to take all of my things out and strew them around. Just as I got to my knees, and said I found it, she clicked.
Later that day, I was trying to decide which donut to have at the donut shop. I mentioned I was practically drooling, and she clicked.
On that first Tuesday she sat me down in a study room in the library and asked me about 50 or 60 questions all in a row, some of them personal. She didn’t click on all of them, but I think there were clicks any time I admitted I liked it when Michelle… well, actually, Jailbait never used her name. I guess it was whenever any woman took charge. Anyway, she seemed to click every time I answered in the affirmative. I kind of lost track of all the questions and it was like I was answering them on auto-pilot giving me the same floaty sensation I had from the time she hypnotized me. When we were done, she said, “good job,” and, as I smiled, she clicked.
Wednesday, she showed up to training, and stood on the touchline. I could barely hear the clicker throughout the game. I don’t think it made a difference, but still, I actually scored two goals.
The only time it was ever really annoying was when I was on the phone with Michelle planning a date for the weekend. Every time I said “yes” to one of Michelle’s suggestions, Jailbait would click. It was so annoying hearing that incessant click. I actually got on my knees to beg her to stop. Somehow this made her whole face light up, and she clicked even more.
Thursday night, I was getting ready to go to bed when she knocked on the door. She came in with her laptop, and sat it down in front of me.
“Don’t ask questions, remember?” was the first thing she said.
I nodded as she clicked.
She pressed a button on the laptop and a video started playing. It was porn.
“Really?” I glanced at her. But her eyes were glued to the screen.
“Shut up, Beanpole, and watch.”
As I turned back, she clicked again. It was a montage of many different scenes. I remembered it from an earlier psych class experiment she had had me sit in on. It was supposed to be a wide array of porn to test people’s subconscious reactions through an EKG. I didn’t have one connected; we just thought it’d be a hoot to watch one drunken night.
I couldn’t figure out the pattern to her clicks, but after a while, I didn’t care. In fact, I thought the video was about 30 minutes long, but it seemed to only take a couple of minutes.
When the video ended, she closed the laptop and walked out of the room without another word.
The weekend date night with Michelle didn’t seem particularly memorable. Jennifer met us at the pub. I couldn’t believe she brought the clicker there. I was sure Michelle would say something, but she somehow ignored it. When Michelle was out of earshot, I gave Jennifer a quizzical look. Without me saying a word, Jennifer whispered in my ear, “I told her about the experiment.” That pretty much satisfied me.
The next week went by in a blur. Periodically, she’d come over to my room, or I’d go over to her room, and she’d have me read a book out loud, or watch some terrible French movie, and all the time-at random intervals- she’d click her weird little clicker.
The next Friday, I had a really hot date with Michelle planned. She had told me she had something special cooked up for me, and asked me to wear the special silk boxers I had bought at the lingerie store the same day I had bought her this amazing corset and stocking set.
I eagerly knocked on the door to her dorm apartment, and Jennifer answered. I was shocked.
First, because she wasn’t supposed to be here.
Second, because of what she was wearing. The first thing I noticed was the heels. She never wore heels. Second, as I moved up, was the stockings and the leather pencil skirt. A pressed white shirt followed that, and then, above that, there was a face full of serious intent and covered in tasteful make up. Jailbai- I mean- Jennifer–never wore make up. I could have died right there.
“Wha-“ I almost said.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“John-Paul. Come in.”
I walked in in a daze.
I stared at her.
She stared at me.
“What?” I finally said.
“Shhh. Don’t worry. I knew I could count on you.”
When she said those words, something clicked inside my head.
I started taking off my clothes.
When I was done, she said, “good job.”
I blinked, and found myself on my knees. I was also, suddenly, incredibly hard.
I started to ask something.
“Shhh. Don’t ask questions.” Again, something clicked inside of me and I stayed on my knees in front of her.
“Thank you…” and she looked at my crotch, “Beanpole. I’m sure I’ll find a use for that. But that wasn’t what I was after exactly. Oh, Bitchface!”
I glanced past Jennifer and saw… Michelle! She was naked except for a collar around her neck. Her eyes looked at me pleadingly.
“You see, Michelle just had to ask about the clicking she kept hearing on the phone. And she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Michelle crawled right up to Jennifer, and Jennifer lightly patted Michelle’s head. “So I showed her.” Jennifer bent over, pulling my girlfriend’s chin up to look her in the eyes. “Just like I planned.”
“Bitchface.” Michelle stared back with a ton of fury and anger. Somehow I could tell she wanted to say something but, like me, couldn’t. From my vantage point, I could also see how amazingly wet she was. “Bitchface… ‘Prove how much you care for him.’” I could tell it was some kind of trigger phrase, because a glassy look passed over her face and Michelle… just wasn’t there any more.
Michelle quickly, yet deliberately, crawled in front of Jennifer and slowly puled up Jennifer’s skirt.
“I am so glad I took that class.”
As Michelle went to work, Jennifer kept eye contact with me, and I could read every second of mounting pleasure written in her suddenly captivating grey eyes.
“Thanks for being bait, Beanpole…. Oh. Good. You’re getting so good at that, Bitchface.” She closed her eyes briefly. I think I let out a moan. “Shut up, Beanpole, and watch.” Once again, something inside of me shifted, and I found myself on the brink of an unexpected orgasm.
I could tell when she came–the whole complex probably could—but I knew because I could hear that sound.
She clicked her device.
And the next- and last– thing I remembered was the sound of my voice and Bitchface’s voice, coming together.
* * * * * * *
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Sabrina sat on her couch in her living room with the device in her hands, and the brochure she had just read on the table in front of her. It was silver with a black display “face.” Her friend Sarah wouldn’t stop nattering on about the Wrist500, and how it had “changed her life.” Sabrina was usually extremely skeptical about such claims, but even she was impressed with how disciplined Sarah had been about her workouts and eating habits since she purchased it. Sabrina had gotten a nice bonus from her job at the accountancy firm, and had put on a few pounds in ice-cream and Netflix binging since Paul and Drake had dumped her to go off on their own. (She still couldn’t believe the bastards had the nerve to invite her to their wedding.)
It was after the New Year and it was time for a change. She had ordered the Wrist1000™ (“Enhancing You for the Holidays™”) after hearing their stupid radio commercial one too many times. The commercial had this ostentatious voice that suddenly broke into song and promised that “Enhancement is only a click…a….waaaayyyyy,” followed by a stupid sounding chime and then a clicking sound.
Whatever, Sabrina now sat there wondering whether to put it on. She didn’t like that there was a penalty for early withdrawal (so to speak), but, again, Sarah’s results were undeniable.
After a bit longer than she realized, she thought, “what the hell” and put it over her wrist and latched it shut. The state-of-the-art ClickFitSilver™ didn’t even show a seam. She picked up the brochure to see how it was supposed to work.
…II. Booting up. Once you’ve placed the Wrist1000™ on your wrist and used the patented ClickBitSilver™ to seamlessly add it to your wardrobe, turn on your computer. The Wrist1000™’s Bluetooth™-enabled software will find your computer. Once it has identified it, press “OK” on the watch. A wizard will pop on your computer to connect between it, your Wrist1000™ and the Panopt-U-Can™ cloud-based monitoring system. This whole process should only take about 10 minutes.
She put the brochure down and grabbed her laptop, opening it up and placing it on the table next to the brochure. She hit “OK” on the Wrist1000™ and waited. She minimized the window, and saw what she was looking at last night. Sabrina blushed. It was a “PornView” page opened to one of her favorite porn scenes. In it, a woman was commanding two men to…. Service her. What she liked most about the scene was that the woman wasn’t actually dressed in any dominatrix outfit; rather, the woman was in a business suit and was ordering her personal assistant and secretary—the two men—to do… things to her.
She checked the time on the Wizard and saw that it had about 15 more minutes to go. She grabbed her vibrator from her purse and decided to blow of some steam.
“Your performance review hasn’t been up to snuff, Malcolm. You know what that means?”
“You’re going to need a thorough, personal, oral evaluation.” The woman reached over to the intercom button. “James, please come in.”
A taller, darker man with impossibly broad shoulders came into the room.
“Malcolm, your review says that your ‘Team Player’ scores were far below a 69. That’s practically a fail rating. Please show James how you can improve this.”
Oh, yes. This was the best part. Sabrina’s hands were moving much more quickly now and she was nearing orgasm. She came for the first time just as Malcolm’s succulent lips touched James’ impossibly huge cock. She came for the second as the executive ordered Malcolm to lick her greedy pussy as James took poor Malcolm’s really tight ass. The third time she came was when the men made out with each other in between taking turns going down on the executive. The scene closed with a single shot of the executive catching her breath as the two men, tired from their exertions, fell asleep.
Somehow, in all of her own exertions, Sabrina failed to consciously register the Wrist1000™ give off a “click” each time she hit an orgasm, as well as one weird sounding chime. She wiped herself off and put the vibrator aside. She took a sip of some Chardonnay while she maximized the Wizard. It said “Set Up Complete. You are now ready to ‘Enhance Your Life, Today™.’ Press [Return] to continue.” She did.
The screen said, “You are ready to enter the world of ClickFit™. Tomorrow, at 6 am, the Wrist1000™’s alarm will sound which will be your notice that you will have 30 minutes to begin your workout. We’ve collected all the data we need to inform you-by the ClickFit™’s patented ClickClick™ sound- when you’ve hit the proper workout and intensity parameters. Rest well, and be ready bright and early tomorrow to Enhance Your Life, Today.™”
As she finished reading this, a bell chimed from the device. Sabrina smirked. That didn’t even make sense.
Anyhow, the set up for the Wrist1000™ must have been streamlined, Sarah had told her about having to be at the gym for an hour before the Wrist500™ was ready, and then it had to have all sorts of weird diagnostics run. She examined it closely. She liked how smooth and refined looking it was.
She downed the rest of her wine and headed to bed. The moment her head hit her pillow, a tiny bell sound went off from the Wrist1000™. She barely had any time to register it before she felt really, really, tired, and went straight to sleep.
The Wrist1000™ woke her up with a series of bells, clicks and noises that sounded like some strange dolphin and whale duet. She went to press anything on the Wrist1000™ that looked like a snooze button, but the device just kept making all the weird sounds. She decided she’d have to look at the brochure, so she got up out of bed, and… just like that, the sounds stopped. She looked at the Wrist1000™ and saw a counter counting down the 24 minutes left to when she was “supposed” to be working out.
“Jeez. I slept hard.” She yawned and found herself going to her dresser to put on clothes, grab her iPhone and head down to her gym, located just next door. Every time she completed one of these tasks, the Wrist1000™ would click. This was fine, and in keeping with what she had read about it, but she kept on getting distracted by how turned on she was suddenly feeling. She made her way to the gym anyway, but suddenly saw how good looking all the boys were in the place. She had never appreciated spandex until she saw Todd, one of the trainers, bend over in front of her. She nearly ran into a water cooler.
“What is wrong with me?” Sabrina shook her head.
She reached her elliptical just as the Wrist1000™’s countdown ended. The device chimed and then “clicked” and…. “Dear god.” She said out loud.
A wave of tension suddenly coursed through her body. She took some tentative steps on the elliptical, but the only thing she was accomplishing was feeling how good it felt when her panties rubbed against her clit. And normally, that wasn’t that great, thank you very much. She shuddered.
Todd looked up from where he was helping Mike. Todd was bent over behind Mike, showing him the proper way to do a squat. The fantasy from last night went right through her mind. She had to have an orgasm. Now. She found herself running to the bathroom, closing the door, and, with great haste and no dignity, plunging her fingers down her sweatpants. She came quickly, but… there was absolutely no relief. It was like some weird fever was overtaking her, and she had to have another one. Now. Her brain sent her fantasies of being in the gym office, ordering Todd and Mike to work their way through the Gay Karma Sutra Manuel she kept in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She came again. Still, no relief. Now she was riding Todd, while Todd, in turn, was impaled on Mike’s cock. Yes! That! There! She came, hard, and couldn’t quite keep silent. As she came, the Wrist1000™ “clicked,” and she felt the orgasm tear away her terrible, visceral need. She tried to catch her breath as the sweat poured down her face.
“What the fuck just happened?” She said out loud.
“I don’t know, but I think you just had the best workout ever.” Came a voice from the next stall. Sabrina started. She felt her already red face flush even harder—this time from embarrassment. She got up quickly and ran out of the bathroom, not daring to turn when she heard the other stall door open. As she left the bathroom, she nearly ran over Todd coming out of the bathroom.
“Oh. Hey, Sabrina! Are you ok?”
She was about to say something, when she saw Mike right next to him doing push-ups. “F-fine. I’m not feeling well. I’ll see you later.” She ran back to her building and into her apartment.
She thought about screaming when she looked down at the Wrist1000™ and saw a 12-hour countdown “until your next workout.”
She called in sick.
She read the brochure cover to cover and realized what had gone horribly wrong. The set-up wizard had obviously taken much less time than it had indicated and had automatically started the initial set up. While she was supposed to be going through a standard workout she, instead, had been masturbating to some really hot porn. So instead of the default being set to a brisk run in the woods, the default was set to a hot and horny Sabrina.
She stared off into space for hours, wondering what to do, but exhausted from so many orgasms that morning. She fell into a fitful sleep, the brochure in her hands.
She was woken by the same weird dolphin-whale music that had woken her up that morning. She looked at the clock-only 6 hours had passed. She looked down at the Wrist1000™. The Legend “Delta Schedule 42” flashed on the screen. What did that mean?
She looked at the brochure, “Delta Schedule 42” meant “Based on your metabolic processes, the Panopt-U-Can™ has determined that you are not at work, and, moreover, you are not sick, nor does your online diary indicate that you have a travel day scheduled. Therefore, the work-out schedule has been brought forward a number of hours, to keep your regime on course.” No! She started to reach for the phone, when the chime, and then a “click” went off.
Once again, Sabrina went off like a firework. She clasped her legs together as she fell to the floor. She had never felt this horny in all of her life. She felt like she could just die. She crawled, quivering, over to her vibrator. She reached for it like a thirsty woman in the desert, and placed it between her legs.
“Three orgasms,” she told herself. “I just need three orgasms.” But nothing happened for a very long time. Sure, it felt good, but she wasn’t getting anywhere.
“Fuuuuuck,” she whined.
She thought, while keeping the vibe between her legs, and, out of desperation, she flipped open her lap top and raced for the PornView scene. She stabbed with at her pad and started playing a video on the front page. A scene with a man fucking a “cheerleader” started playing. Still, no progress. She started a different one, an amateur scene where two women were giving a guy a blowjob. Still nothing. Finally, she hit one with a woman ordering a man around a dungeon. Her clit throbbed and she felt the orgasm start to build. Ten minutes later, though, she was still nowhere close. Finally, she went to her playlist, and played the next scene in the “Executive Dominatrix” series. Now the exec (the name in the show was “Carli”) was ordering a man and a woman to fuck each other for her enjoyment.
Figurative fireworks started shooting from Sabrina’s pussy. God, yes! The first orgasm rolled though quickly. It was great, and Sabrina was ready for the need to still be there. The second took a little bit longer, but it rolled through Sabrina like a wave onto a beach. The third one took longer still, and Sabrina made it all the way to the scene where Carli is taking turns fucking each person in the couple with her enormous strap-on before Sabrina felt it.
But this time, there was no relief, no “click.”
“Fuuuuck!” She yelled. “What the actual fuck!?” And then some part of her dimly remembered something about a progression, and the “workouts” getting increasingly more difficult.
She watched Carli fuck the man in the couple while he fucked the other woman. Then forced him to watch while his girlfriend ate Carli out, telling the boy how she was going to steal her from him because he couldn’t satisfy her. Finally, as Carli was getting out the paddle and the needles, she came.
As she came, she heard, very loudly, the “click” from the Wrist1000™
She screamed for thirty seconds as her voice went incredibly, deliciously hoarse. She hadn’t even realized the vibrator’s batteries had run out. The only sound in the room was her own panting and sobbing.
After 20 minutes of recovering, Sabrina dropped the vibrator next to her. She had knocked the laptop over, along with a glass of water and most of the books on her coffee table. The laptop was a smoking wreck- the water from the glass had spilled and shorted it out. Sabrina barely registered this. She crawled to the phone and dialed.
She waited and counted the rings. Four rings.
“ClickFit™, Inc., how may we Enhance Your Life, Today™?”
“I…. I need to pay the Farewell Fee™.”
“I’m sorry, Ms….. Cantwell. But you’ll have to talk to our Customer Retention Department.”
“OK…. Patch me through to them… Now!”
“I’m sorry Ms. Cantwell, but Customer Retention has left for the day.”
Sabrina started to cry.
“You can pay online however.”
“My c-computer is gone.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help-“
“P-please. I need to talk to someone in charge.”
There was a pause. “Very well, I will transfer you to my manager. This may take a minute. You’ll have to listen to a little looped advertising while you wait, for which I apologize in advance.”
“OK. Just…. Hurry!”
She heard the line change, and then a voice: “Thank you for choosing ClickFit™. Your call is very important to us. Please stay on the line, and one of our Customer Enhancers™ will return to show you-“
And then there was that stupid jaunty little jingle as the overly ostentatious voice began to sing, “-how Enhancement is only a cliiiick…. Aaaaaa……waaaay!”
And then she heard it.
And then the “click.”
Sabrina closed her eyes, covered her forehead, and said the only thing she could, before she lost control again.