Bailey knelt, naked, on the soft carpet, head bowed, long blonde hair swept back behind her. She had written all over her front, from neck to knees, in eyeliner pencil and red lipstick. Her chubby thighs, an easy surface to reach, were truly covered in ornate lettering, while her stomach and hips, breasts, and collarbone were much less marked and the writing much clumsier, but the effort she had put in was clear. Lying on the floor beside her, connected by three strong wires to a device attached behind her right ear, was a control system for that device and its partner behind her left ear and for the wires that ran between them. It was no bigger than a smart phone, with a clip for attaching to a pocket, belt, or waistband. She didn't look at it. She simply waited.

She heard the bedroom door opening, heard Chuck's steps into the house, heard him coming into the living room where she knelt.

"Bailey?" he said, sounding a bit confused.

She looked up. He had put on his blue boxer shorts, but nothing else. She looked up a little further and saw bewilderment on his face to match his voice, but at least there was a smile there, as well.

"What have you done?"

She straightened up, proudly displaying her handiwork.

"Good job, Bailey. I like it."

She smiled at the compliment. Her left hand twitched, subconsciously wanting to move towards the spot across her right breast where she had written 'praise slut' in thick red letters.

Chuck held a hand out to Bailey, helping her to her feet. He examined the writing more closely, his hand tracing several of the words on her arms and sending shivers down her spine.

"Bailey?"

"Yes?"

The first word she'd spoken that morning.

"I understand just about everything you've written..."

She waited. He pointed at some dark text on her belly, just above the wispy patch of her pubic hair.

"... But what does it mean here? 'I win'?"

Bailey woke up when the man beside her shifted.

She wasn't used to having someone else in bed. His movement had startled her out of a dreamless sleep. As she came around, she jumped a bit when she realized that she wasn't alone.

She hadn't gotten drunk. Or taken anything. But the last thing she could remember was...

Bailey put a hand to her head. She was confused, but she wasn't hurt. She was naked, as was her bedmate (she could feel his bare skin against hers). She assumed that she'd—that they'd—had sex, but she couldn't feel any evidence that she'd suffered any violence to put herself in that position.

So why couldn't she remember anything?

An unfamiliar glow on the end-table caught her eye in the otherwise-dark room. Something she didn't recognize, not fully, but still somehow felt like she ought to have known what it was.

Was it connected to her confused state?

She got out of bed, careful not to disturb the other occupant, taking the glowing object with her as she crept towards her bedroom door. It was ... more than she expected; the glowing part of it was small, rectangular, white plastic with a touch screen embedded in it and some sort of projection on the back. The screen was showing a simple status report, that the object's battery was fully powered, that all connections were functional. Long wires extended out to another hard plastic piece, small enough to fit in her hand, crescent-shaped, with yet another set of wires to a similarly-shaped piece. Bailey satisfied herself that the whole of the mechanism was in her hand, she slipped out into the hallway and headed towards the bathroom.

Bailey looked at herself in the mirror. She was a bit of a mess. Her long hair was wild and tangled. She idly put the... whatever-it-was that she was carrying down safely on the tank of the toilet and grabbed her hairbrush, running it through her hair as she tried to think.

She wasn't panicked. That was good, she thought. She had woken up in bed next to someone, she couldn't remember why or how, and she wasn't panicking. That suggested that she had no reason to panic. She brushed out the tangles with practised ease. No reason to panic, no hangover, no lingering drug effects, all suggested that things were, if not normal, then at least close enough to it to pretend that it was normal.

She put the brush down and picked up the object she'd taken from her end table. It felt comfortable in her hands, which was weird, as she didn't really understand what it was. She left the screen on the sink side and considered the two mirrored crescent-shaped pieces. For some reason, she put the one not connected to the screen up to her left ear and found that it fit snugly behind the pinna, and held itself in place like it was built to be there. Sure enough, the other part slipped behind her right ear in the same way. Seven insulated wires crossed between them, so she took off the right-handed part, pushed her hair forward, slid the wires as best as she could close to her scalp, re-installed the part, and let her hair fall back. It felt... comfortable.

Something was odd, definitely.

Bailey picked up the third piece, the one with the screen. The status info had changed; full battery charge and all connections active remained the same, but now there was a third indication: 'subject scan complete.'

Huh.

Bailey tapped the screen and a menu opened. She tilted her head. Pressed the 'start' button.

She blinked. She felt warm. A trained Alterist, she recognized the feeling of slipping into a trance, and vaguely wondered if she ought to resist.

She went to the closet to get her makeup out.

Bailey had gone through her day full of anticipation. Months of work might well have been coming to fruition. They had made one prototype, she had written extensive programming. No one noticed the ear pieces at all, the wiring was hidden under her hair, and the control device concealed itself nicely inside her sweater pocket. She was supposed to live her life normally to give the machine a baseline to work from, but the excitement and constant distraction made that a challenge. Ironic, then, that the constant distraction was exactly what the device was meant to help her manage.

Still, she had kept to her tasks, despite wanting to constantly check the status and see the progress the device was making. She didn't. She waited until the day's work was done, shut down her computer, and left the office for home, swiftly walking the four blocks in the cool autumn air. She resisted the urge to run, or jog. She had to establish the baseline. Without the full visor construction, and with the weak scanning options available on the public market compared to those used by corporate or medical groups, it took hours to accomplish.

In the door, shoes off, windbreaker hanging on the peg. The house wasn't big, but it was more than enough for her. Two medium-sized bedrooms, one converted to a home office; a decent open-concept kitchen/dining room/den with a large front-facing picture window; a bathroom with a six-and-a-half-foot tub and brand new fixtures. She went to the bedroom first, careful of the device as she unbuttoned her sweater. She left her blouse on, and replaced her nice business skirt with a pair of blue yoga pants. Finally, she allowed herself to look at the screen of the control unit.

98% complete.

It ticked over to 99% while she was looking.

"Just a few more minutes..." Bailey got to her feet, paced a bit, wondering what to do. She decided that dinner was the best bet. Live life normally. A can of soup felt normal, or at least normal enough. She knew that she was hungry enough to eat the whole can. She tried to focus on the preparation of the meal, opening the can, heating the pot, filling it with water and the concentrated broth, but the control unit clipped to her waistband kept pulling her attention.

She refused to look. She didn't want to know. Or, rather, she did, but she didn't want to give in.

Bailey poured the soup into a large bowl, grabbed a spoon, and took it to the dining table. She dug in, trying not to eat more quickly than usual, and unable to help herself. She mopped up a few drops with a napkin and deliberately took the bowl to the sink before checking the device again.

99% complete.

Fuck, she thought. She tried to remember if she'd programmed the progress bar to accurately reflect progress, or if it was just a fancy timer. It had been too long ago for her to remember clearly. She'd probably just downloaded a function from an Alteration library and cloned the important bits of code to make it work; after all, it was important for the machines to know the progress levels, so code had to exist out there.

The idea was simple. Make it portable, make it functional. It didn't need to do everything that an Alteration chair could do, it just had to find some way to work without a visor, monitor, or speakers. Scan interpretation was the difficult part, and was what she was using herself as a guinea pig for. The more points of contact, the more ability the machine had to read the mental state of the subject. She'd had seven high-reactivity magnetic wire sensors and two behind-the-ear temperature and reactivity units, which meant that portability had to paid for in time.

Still, once the scan had been completed, the information received should be stored on the remote server and be readily accessible after only a few seconds next time. If it worked.

Bailey headed for her bedroom, wondering if the process would ever be complete. She took off her blouse, careful not to dislodge the wiring, and looked in the mirror on the closet door. Even then, except for the controller in her hand, the whole device was hidden. Chuck had designed it well. She clipped the controller to the back of her yoga pants, and except for the controller itself and the tiniest bit of wiring that peeked out below the end of her hair, it was invisible. The blouse she had been wearing would have hidden everything.

She turned to check a couple angles, unaware that the screen now read the long-awaited '100% complete.' And unaware that, without her input, the menu activated.

She turned to check a couple angles, again.

And again.

And again.

After five minutes, she turned to check a couple angles, amazed at how easy the device would be to hide.

Her thoughts felt sluggish.

She turned to check a couple angles, amazed at how easy the device would be to hide.

She heard her door open.

She turned to check a couple angles.

The door to her room opened.

She turned to check a couple angles, amazed at how easy the device would be to hide.

"Yes, I can hear you," she replied.

She handed over the control device, not that it was necessary.

She turned to check a couple angles, and she started to forget.

Bailey was just pulling her skirt up when she heard the knock at the door. Chuck had arrived.

This was the day.

Months of programming work. Weeks of design. Having a mold made of the back of her head, which involved a long shower to wash the plaster out of her hair. And now...

If it worked, if it worked, the prototype and experimental slow-grind programming could mean a medication-free Alteration treatment for her ADHD. A simple device worn on the back of the head, a controller attached for self-regulation. Chuck had promised it would be small and unobtrusive, and now she would be finding out.

She went to the door, opened it, greeted her friend.

"Hey Bailey," he said, holding up a cloth shopping bag. "Here it is."

She nodded, trying to hide her excitement. "Great, should I, uh..."

Chuck smiled. "Let me help you with it. I'm sure you'll be able to get it on and off yourself after a bit of practice, but I'd be happy to make sure it's working."

"Perfect."

"Okay, turn around, and, uh, pull your hair forward, I think?"

Bailey nodded and did as she was asked, bringing her long tresses over her right shoulder. Chuck, only a little taller than she was, stepped close behind her. She trusted him. They'd been friends for a long, long time. "Ready."

"Okay, I'm just going to fit this behind your left ear, alright?"

"Go ahead."

His touch was gentle, careful, maybe reluctant. She could feel a bit of pressure as the earpiece slid into place. "That good?"

Bailey took a breath. This was happening. "Yeah, I barely feel it."

"Okay. Same thing, other side. Except I need to run the, uh..."

"Feed lines?"

"Yeah, those." She felt his fingers slipping the wires across her scalp. "Seven of them, right? I couldn't get them working any way but straight across."

"Should be fine, so long as there's a maximal area coverage of..." She chuckled. "You don't care."

"I'm sure it's interesting. It's not that I don't care, I just don't understand it." She could hear his laugh. "Okay, here's the right earpiece. One sec."

A moment more of pressure on the other side of her head, and it was in place.

Chuck walked around, holding up the small control device that was connected by three wires to the piece of plastic behind her right ear. "It looks like it's working," he said.

She glanced at it. 'Scanning subject brain pattern 0% complete,' it said. "Yeah, looks like it." She took the controller.

"It should clip onto your belt, or into a pocket, or something."

She nodded. "That's great. Thank you so much, Chuck, this could be life-changing."

"Glad to help!" He shuffled a bit nervously. "Uh, I guess you have to get to work. A-and so do I."

"Of course." She gave her friend a hug, which he returned. "Talk to you later?"

"Yeah, let me know how it works, okay?"

"You got it."

It was two in the morning.

Chuck was still working.

There was one component left to install. Just one. It wasn't even part of the schematic, not part of the design.

He'd been researching Alteration extensively, as much as he could in the weeks since he'd started working on this project with Bailey. He needed to know what had to be done, what had to be said, how to make this tool so much more than it was ever intended to be.

The crush he'd carried for a decade was going to be fulfilled. Finally.

He brushed aside final feelings of guilt, and slipped the remote receiver into the command module. He would be able to control Bailey's Alteration program through his smartphone.

He rationalized it, somewhat. He didn't have to use the program. And remote monitoring would be necessary for safety, in future devices. This was just making sure that his friend was safe, that's all.

He secured the battery in place, screwed the plastic form together, and went to bed. He had to be up in a few hours to deliver the device before they both went to work.

Chuck blinked, feeling... He wasn't sure how he was feeling.

He felt good, for sure. That much was obvious.

He was surprised at just how aroused he was.

"You alright, Chuck?"

Bailey's voice floated out of the void. His vision started to clear, focusing beyond the plastic visor where flashing lights had...

He nodded. "Y-yeah, I think so. I'm feeling..." He took a breath. "Good. I wasn't expecting that." He flexed his fingers. They felt stiff, as if he hadn't moved them in a while.

"You weren't expecting to feel good?" Bailey chuckled. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't... I really don't know. I've never been..." He shrugged, lifting the visor and sitting up in the chair. "You've offered so many times."

"I'm glad you finally accepted," she replied. She sounded genuine. "So you have a better understanding of what we're building?"

He nodded, getting to his feet. He felt like he ought to be unsteady, but his legs were solid.

He felt good.

He'd been listening to Bailey's voice for quite a while. It made sense for him to be aroused.

"So... I mean, it's capable of... um... like that's how you want to—"

Bailey shook her head. "No, that's pretty much just as deep as you can get. I want something... milder, let's say."

"Okay, sure."

"The whole point is that this can be used for that level of interaction, but I can't spend my life sitting in an Alteration chair."

Chuck nodded.

"But nothing helps me keep focus like that," Bailey continued. "So I want to build a portable, small-scale, non-medical-grade device that can help keep my ADHD in check."

"Yeah, I understand." Chuck stretched, hoping his stiff member didn't give him away. "So, am I your obedient slave now?" he asked sarcastically.

Bailey laughed. "No, of course not. We had that discussion already, right? But... Tick," she said.

Chuck's right arm swung out, shocking him, before it fell to his side. "Tick?" Chuck asked, confused.

"Uh huh. Tick."

His arm swung out again, loosely and wildly, and then dropped again. "Uh."

Bailey snickered. "So you get the idea."

"This isn't exactly—"

"Tick."

The arm swung again, interrupting Chuck's thought. "Hey!"

"Yeah, I know, it's simple." Bailey's grin was evident. "But it's just a demonstration."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Am I going to punch an invisible mugger every time someone talks about a clock?"

"No, no, that suggestion just lasts until we leave the room." She bit her lip. "Most portable units require a significant amount of equipment. I'm looking to design this—" she indicated the chair, with its power supply, attached visor and headrest speakers "—down into something wearable for the day-to-day. Mainly getting rid of the visor."

"It won't be able to do..."

Bailey nodded. "I don't need it to do everything the chair can do. Just a few little things. And I'll take care of the programming. In fact, I've taken care of most of the programming already, I just need the actual machine."

"Right." Chuck nodded. "Well, if you give me an idea of how this all works—"

"I'll talk your ear off about that, if you want!"

The two of them laughed. They both knew Bailey was telling the truth.

Chuck took a breath. "Well, if you show me the specs, I should be able to get something ready in a couple weeks."

Bailey shifted, suddenly seeming a little uncomfortable. "That'd be fantastic, Chuck."

"Dinner?"

"Dinner."

"Chuck?"

There was silence. Bailey checked the readouts. Perfection.

She made a small adjustment and watched Chuck's stats change.

"Chuck?"

There was a little pause. His eyes flicked over towards her, then refocused on the flickering lights projected from the clear plastic visor in front of him. "Yeah?" he drawled.

"Doing good?"

Another pause. "Yeah."

"Enjoying everything that's going on?"

She waited for his affirmative reply. "Yeah."

Bailey made another adjustment, trying to find the sweet spot to block conscious memory but to access other parts of Chuck's mind. "Now you know how good it feels to follow a suggestion or two, Chuck, imagine how good it would make me feel to be following suggestions like that all the time."

A brief flicker of confusion crossed Chuck's face. "Uh..."

"It would be simple, wouldn't it, Chuck? You can read up enough on Alteration in the few weeks it'll take to build the prototype. You can learn what to adjust, what to adapt, how to open up my mind safely, what to say, what to do..."

There was a brief, almost imperceptible nod. The glittering lights held Chuck's attention, but Bailey's words were sinking in.

"And it's easy to imagine as a simple extension of the tick..." Bailey waited for Chuck's arm to twitch, "... and for that little suggestion to make you wonder and explore just how much is possible."

Bailey watched as Chuck looked confused, again, followed by another nod and a look of understanding, and even a bit of a shy smile.

"Great." Bailey shifted her attention back to the console. "Then, we can just take a while to let that all sink in, and in a while, you can come on back up, just feeling generally great."

She noted his sexual arousal increasing as he thought about the possibilities, and grinned. She could see the physical evidence of arousal, too. It was a small violation, but she'd harboured a crush on her friend for a decade or more, maybe this would be what it would take to break the tension.

Bailey very, very carefully adjusted the Alteration controls, enough that eventually Chuck would wake from the trance she had put him in. Then, only then, she'd see just how far she might push him.

"You're drunk!" Bailey laughed.

"You too," Chuck replied, grinning.

The two of them were walking home from an evening at the bar. Neither were so inebriated that they were having any difficulty navigating the sidewalk on the way back to Bailey's house.

"All I'm saying," Chuck continued, "is that everything we're told about Alteration is that it can't make someone violate their ethics."

"Uh huh, and what I'm saying is that under the right circumstances, it can."

Chuck scoffed. "Nah. No way. It'd be banned if you could."

"Well then maybe it should be!" Bailey giggled. "But it's no-ot!"

"Okay, well, prove it then. Bet you can't."

"Bet I can!" Bailey poked the air in the direction of her friend's chest. "What's something you would never do?"

"Me? I mean, I'd never murder—"

"Okay, smart guy, something that's not illegal, alright? Something that's not gonna wind up with my friend in a jail cell."

"Wait, what? You're gonna... do that Alteration thing to me, and break my ethics?"

Bailey nodded. "You bet me, you gotta be the target, then!"

Chuck coughed a bit in surprise. "Uh... Well, okay then, um, I'd never... hm..."

"Oh come on, Chuckie, there's gotta be something you wouldn't do."

"Treat a girl like an object," he blurted out.

"What?"

"I'd never," he took a breath. He suddenly seemed embarrassed by what he was saying. "I would never... treat a girl... a woman, someone I was with... I would never objectify them, I would never... I dunno."

Bailey became suddenly serious. "You would never dominate a woman."

"Never."

"Never take someone without their explicit permission."

"Not for a second. Bailey, you couldn't... you shouldn't try to make someone do that."

She nodded. "You're right. Uh. Let's... maybe talk about something else. I'm almost home, anyway."

"Agreed."

The two friends walked in silence a while before reaching Bailey's door.

"Thanks for walking me home," Bailey said.

"No problem," Chuck replied.

"Sunday evening, then? I'll show you what Alteration can actually do?'

"Yeah, that'll be a good idea so I can figure out how best to build the miniaturized option."

Bailey nodded and wrapped her friend in a hug. Chuck squeezed her back.

"Walk home safe yourself, alright?"

"I will."

And as Chuck turned away, Bailey grinned behind him. "I won't forget our bet!"

Chuck laughed. "See you Sunday."