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Dreams tell the story, literally.

Several weeks later as the trigger part was being sent to her .. .something went out the window on us. The initial part worked like it was supposed to...as I could tell her "How nice she looked" and she would unbutton another button, or I could tell her that "You look like you feel good" and she would rub against me and all over me if I didn't stop her.

But when the whole trigger was sent on her computer, then it all crashed as far as we could control whatever was going on. I've gone over it about two hundred times and haven't found whatever it is that makes "Horny Jack" (her trigger word) send it all in the dumper as far as her reaction to us."

"CRAP...What a waste!!!!!"

" Get the whole thing out of our network and save it at home or wherever, and maybe, just maybe we try it again in a couple of years" Bill told Fred as he left and wondered why his buddy in the Military Propaganda Department had raved about this program.

* * * * *

Michelle was in heaven, she thought, when she moved several states away from her parents in Whachikanuga, Minnesota. She had a good job in the BIG

city, and could finally live down her reputation that had started in elementary school. It wasn't her fault that she had dumped a rather large load in her new panties on the first day of school. But from that day, until she had gotten out of town, she was known as "Dirty Michelle". Even her parents had slipped up and called her that several times over the years while she was growing up. Being mean, all the kids she knew had called her that or "DM" every chance they got.

She was delirious at first that she had escaped from her past, but years of conditioning are harder to overcome than you would think. With only the scars inside, she had developed into a full 34C, a nice hour glass figure, light brown hair, and a smile for everybody she met. Although she didn't have many friends all through school, she wasn't a loner and even had a boyfriend of sorts who took her to the senior prom.

Convincing her parents to let her go was a real hurdle, but she had finally beaten them down and using almost all her savings had moved to Chicago. There was no one back home that she cared to write or call, and had started fresh where nobody would call her "DM" or "Dirty Michelle" ever again.

Getting a job as a steno in the secretarial pool had been relatively easy and despite the low pay; it was a fabulous "new" world for her and she had started coming out of her shell.

Then after she had been there two months, she began to get strange feelings and lose a few minutes here and there. She wanted to ask some of the other girls if they had the same things happening to them, but really didn't know any of them that well.

So finally, almost desperate, she had asked Bob, her department manager about some of the things that were bothering her. He was an older guy who had been with the company a long time, and was so understanding and helpful. She had felt much better and no longer worried about her strange feelings.

In the beginning, she would go to work all fresh and eager to input at her computer all day. It seemed that one day her nipples were itching like crazy and just wouldn't stop, even after she rubbed them through her blouse and bra. She noticed several of the other girls looking at her oddly, and once she had gone to the ladies room and took off her bra...it stopped. After this had happened for about a week, she had to ask Bob, if it was okay for her to go without a bra. He had been most kind and understanding about it, and even some of the other girls acted friendlier to her.

A week or two later, the same itching would start whenever she put on a bra, so she quit even trying to wear one.

Then, on a whim, she was wearing skirts all the time and hemmed them up fairly short as it was the style she saw and felt most comfortable wearing.

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