John wants to understand AGS

In the morning, John was up before Veronica. He sat down on the sofa and buried his head in his phone, reading everything he could find about AGS.

It was still a new phenomenon, but between news sites and online discussion, he started to get a feeling for what was happening to its victims. It wasn't what he wanted for Veronica.

Eventually Veronica appeared at the bedroom door. John couldn't help but notice her lack of a bra. He had barely fully appreciated her nipples when she yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Her oversized T-shirt rode up, revealing only a pair of panties.

As she lowered her arms, the image of her beautiful hips being barely covered was seared into his brain. Pajamas apparently weren't something she thought of when she fled to his place, and his instruction to not be shy was definitely still in effect.

She sat across the kitchen table from him. The table obscured her lower half, giving John some chance of thinking about something else.

Tried to forget the thin layer of fabric that had just been the only thing between him and Veronica's pussy. He **** himself to ask something he had been curious about, "perhaps we can do an experiment?"

"What do you mean?"

"It," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "may possibly help us some abstract way."

She looked at him like he was crazy, "are you having a stroke?"

Annoyed, he clarified, "I am attempting to state things that the AGS won't make you believe. It would be desirable to find out where the line is."

She chucked, "okay."

He picked up the same plate as the day before. "What color is this plate?"

She responded, "white."

"Okay good... someone told me this plate is green. What color is the plate?"

She realized what he was doing, "oooh... it's white."

He grabbed a piece of paper and quickly wrote "the plate is black". He showed it to her. She looked up, "it's white." She paused and looked from the paper to the plate. She frowned, "it doesn't work if it's written down?"

"I guess not." He texted her, "the plate is orange". He waited for her to read the message. She confirmed, "it's white."

He confirmed, "not text either, I guess." He continued and asserted, "I thought this plate looked red. What color is it?" "White."

"I was wondering if this plate was blue." "White."

"Do you think this plate looks purple?" "White."

"It seems like this plate might be brown." "White."

"I think this plate is yellow." "White."

"I'm quite sure this plate is pink." "White."

He finally said, "this plate is green." Veronica blinked and paused for a moment before responding, "oh, I see it now," she said confidently, "it's green."

He sighed, "no, it's white." She paused again and said quietly, "oh."

"Well, apparently you only respond to direct statements." He tried to reassure her, "it seems like I will be talking like a lawyer from now on."

She laughed nervously, possibly realizing a little more how precarious her situation was. She added, "can you not scramble my brain too much? It must... cause cancer or... something."

He laughed and grabbed a mug, "hey Ronnie, what color is this?"

With faux annoyance she answered, "don't."

He chucked again, "what did you have for dinner last night? Want me to tell you?"

She put her hands over her ears and squealed, "stop!"

He laughed, "I've never liked your taste in music... maybe I should tell you that you like something better."

Despite herself, she snorted and laughed, "oh come on!"

He waved the mug at her, but with a smirk conceded, "okay, I'll try not to give you brain cancer."