Symptoms of lower IQ

Brad sat bolt upright in bed. "Talk? Oh no. What's wrong?" He looked like a scared puppy. I could have some fun with this, Ms Kyoto thought.

She stroked his arm. "Nothing, nevermind. Don't worry; I'm not going to give up on you. I'm starving, though. Could you make us a little snack? I'm going to raid the closet and find some games for us to play."

He walked downstairs and found a virtual kitchen. The only food he could find were a couple of raw eggs. There was a pan on the stove, but it was a gas stove and he could not for the life of him think how to light it. Strange, he thought, my stove at home is gas. I should know how to light it.

He went back upstairs to ask Ms Kyoto how to light the stove. "Oh, don't bother," she said, "I'm not hungry anyway. Come sit, let's play a little chess."

"Did you know I was the national chess champion for ten years running?" he said proudly, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"You don't say," she said. "Well then I'm sure you'll make quick work of me. I only just started playing last month."

But she got him in checkmate in ten moves for three games running. A strange sensation crept over Brad. He rubbed his head as though to awaken some dormant piece of his mind. But the sensation wouldn't go away.

"You feeling alright, Brad?" Ms Kyoto asked. "Maybe not feeling quite like yourself? Like maybe you've lost, I don't know, a third of your intelligence?"

His hand dropped from his head and he stared at her. "Wait..." he began. The glowing look of love faded from his eyes as memory flooded back to him, memory of being suspended in the VR chamber and Ms Kyoto saying she would fuck his brains out.

Brad leapt to his feet and took a fighting stance. "You sick fiend! You've actually managed to find a way to lower my IQ! Stop this, stop it right now!" He swung a fist at her, which she narrowly dodged.

"Oh well, looks like play time is over," she said and snapped her fingers. Instantly Brad found himself once again lying bound to a gynecologist's table. Ms Kyoto again wore a lab coat and she approached him with a clipboard.

"This is a simulation of a printout of the latest readouts I've gotten from your brain," she said, showing them to him. "As you can see here," she pointed to the left of a line graph, "you had an IQ of 170 when we began fucking a few hours ago. But now that you've orgasmed 60 times, you're down to an IQ of 110. That's still not bad -- still above average. But it may help explain why you've lost some of your problem-solving skills. It's probably why you couldn't light the stove, and why you're no longer a chess champion."

"I've lost 60 IQ points?!" Brad wailed. "You said you'd tell me if you could reduce my IQ by 50 points. You mean to tell me you forgot, and I've lost 10 more IQ points since then?!"

Ms Kyoto chuckled. "What difference would it have made? It's not like you can do anything about it. Remember when you didn't think I could reduce your IQ by even one point? Well, you were clearly wrong. And now I've taken you down 60 points, I've won the right to take you down at least another 70."

"Won the right!" he exclaimed. "You can't do this to me!"

"Ah, but I can, I have, and I will," she replied smoothly. "Besides, we had an agreement. If I could reduce your IQ by 50 points, you'd let me do the rest."

"Well I've changed my mind!" he wailed.

"No take backs," she said. "But don't worry. You've enjoyed everything I've done to you so far. And at this rate, it probably won't be long before you don't even understand that your orgasms are reducing your brainpower. So why don't you just lie back," she kissed his right cheek, "relax," she kissed his left cheek, "and enjoy the ride?" She kissed him deeply, plunging her tongue into his protesting mouth.