One must say that scientists who get to study orgasms must have much more fun than colleagues who look at worms under a microscope. - Darlene Taylor.
The Lifework of Dr. Unson - Orgasmologist
The following are excerpts from the personal diaries of Dr. Unson, one of the pioneers in the science of sex and pleasure. The Doctor was an orphan, lived alone, and suffered from many different illnesses. On many separate occasions he attempted to commit suicide, but his own incompetence stopped him from achieving even this. He derived no pleasure from his scientific studies – in fact, they bored him slightly - but he believed in the ‘inevitable progress of the sciences’, and it was to this end that he worked. He was, in short, one of the most miserable individuals to have ever graced the face of this earth.
Monday 1 October, 1951
This morning I will commit suicide.
Unfortunately, the rope with which I was hanging myself broke and I merely fell and bruised my head on the floor. I have failed to commit suicide, and now I shall have to live with the shame of having attempted suicide. Despair on despair.
I have started a new research project. It is called “The Human Orgasm, as displayed in the Male and Female of the species.”
I have for the past hour observed a roomful of men masturbating. Photographs were taken of their faces at various stages of orgasm. There is a strong correlation between the pleasure of the orgasm and the proportional ugliness of the grimaces. I shall in coming days attempt to plot this on a curve.
The room is now rather messy, and I shall have to send for Martha to clean it up.
God I wish I were dead.
Thursday 4 October
Grey sky today. Depressing weather. I stubbed my toe this morning and went to my GP. He said it had to be cut off. He mistakenly amputated my foot. Oh, if only I had majored in physiognomy at University, I could have exposed him for the fraud he is.
My work continues, and is bearing fruitful results. Today I scrutinised a warehouse of women moving various phallic implements in and out of their vaginas at periodic intervals. My researchers and I moved amongst the subjects, making notes.
Fuck my leg hurts.
The results of the experiments are interesting. Having now made our preliminary measurements, tomorrow I believe we shall try and persuade the subjects to attempt to achieve their orgasms in unison.
Sometimes I wish I had accepted Betty’s offer of marriage and that I had not killed her. I get so lonely.
Monday 8 October.
Great. I have just learned from the obituaries of the paper that my long-lost brother and only surviving relative is now dead. The tale of how we came to be separated and how we lost our parents on that night in the wilds of Zambia is indeed a strange and tragic one, and now it seems as if the burden of it falls upon me and me alone. Misery, misery.
On top of all this, my GP informs me that I have leprosy.
On the itinerary for today: Aural sex, and its influence on both the male and the female.
My life sucks.
Wednesday 11 October
After extensive consultations with my GP and Psychiatrist, I have determined a brief list of the mental disorders which I suffer from:
1) Manic Depression
4) Feeling of insignifance
7) Conviction that I do not exist
9) General Angst.
Was so depressed by this list, that I tried to shoot myself. Then I realised that I had misplaced my gun, and was enraged at myself. Then I became terrified when I realised that my gun was lying around the place and that anybody could get hold of it. Those things are dangerous, and could easily hurt someone.
I have made an exciting discovery at work today: it seems that given the right conditions (sensual oils, hot baths, soothing music, massage, and clitoral stimulation) the female of the species can experience multiple orgasms. I shall be preparing a paper for Nature magazine immediately.
Friday October 13
Saturday October 14
Sunday October 15
I believe I shall lie in bed until I expire.
Sunday October 22
I have made a breakthrough in my research. Death shall have to wait. I believe that the only way to discover more about the orgasm is to experience it myself, in as many different ways and positions as possible. I shall arise and fetch my notebook and a prostitute.
Preliminary Notes: Sensations arising during intercourse.
(Please excuse my faulty grammar in this passage, as I find myself engaged in other activities while writing this) Mild warm feeling in my groin, shortness of breath, sweat, various odours emitting from various pores all over my body, grunting, moaning, urge to continue moving my nether regions rhythmically up and down, slight pain in my grin, gathering excitement, pain/warmth reaching crisis point, and …
Sensations arising after intercourse.
Disappointment, slight shame, self-loathing, general distaste at the clamminess and stickiness produced, tiredness, need to catch my breath, and the gathering feeling of existential horror when I realise that I do not have enough money to pay the slut.
God, I’m glad that’s over. Nevertheless, my research must continue.
Saturday, October 29.
Over the past week, I have personally experienced the following acts;
- Aural sex
- Other orificial sex
- The missionary position
- The doggy position
- Sado-masochistic sex
On the whole, sado-masochism seems to produce the most satisfactory orgasm, since it brings with it at least the possibility that a mistake might be made, and annihilation will follow.
I have completed my paper for Nature. I believe I shall just pop out of my study for a moment and commit suicide.
After failing again to commit suicide, Dr. Unson retreated for a decade to his room. His seminal paper in Nature was originally received with indifference by the scientific community. Dr. Unson, by nature a retiring and prurient individual, grew to be quite ashamed of his work. It was not until 1968 that his genius was recognised.
Monday, October 1, 1968
Have just received the Nobel prize for my research into the orgasm which, they say, ‘has liberated thousands of women.’ I had hoped to forget about those shameful days, but it seems that my shame must be displayed for all the world to see.
Life is, as always, shit.
December 24, 1968
I am dictating this to my secretary, after having received a revelation so interesting that it gave me a cardial infarcatation. You know, maybe life isn’t so ba
At the age of 81, Dr. Unson died of a second heart attack. Though he left behind no children, his lifework on The Female Orgasm will live on for eternity.
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