I spent the morning back at my apartment, going back through the notes that my friend and one-time collaborator Marko left me regarding Compound 606, and also compiling what I knew about it. The compound seemed to work by (permanently?) altering production of some inert chemicals in sweat glands, releasing a powerful pheromone-like chemical into the air. This chemical acted to make nearby people extremely suggestible, but they were not conscious of this state, and believed that they were following suggestions because they wanted to. My girlfriend Sarah was usually very uptight in bed, but blew me like a happy whore this morning and then acted like it was her idea all along. It was a pleasant memory and I reveled in it for a moment. She also acted more sexual in general, beyond any suggestions I had given, which seemed like a potential additional effect of the pheromones. Finally, Marko had noted that a subject had forgotten an encounter on command, so I asked Sarah to forget I was there this morning. I had yet to test if she actually did. I had easily convinced a doorman to ignore security protocol and a taxi driver to give me a free ride, which made me pretty sure there was a real effect going on, and I was curious to push it further if I could. I had to be a little careful – Marko fled the country, apparently worried about what he was hearing from the Department of Defense. As far as I can tell, no-one knows I have the sample he prepared, and I’ll have to keep it that way.
My first problem was what to do with the sample and the lab notebooks. I wasn’t willing to destroy them, but I could not be caught with them, and Marko took precautions to keep them away from his advisors. I went down to a bank on a corner and got a safety deposit box and put the vial and notebooks inside. Not perfect, but easy and better than nothing.
The next issue is that I had to at least show my face around the lab this morning or people would wonder what was wrong. It was pushing 9 AM now, so I took a quick shower, threw on some casual clothes, and took a cab to campus, again getting a free ride. A man could get used to these things…
After I arrived, I decided I didn’t feel like working today. I popped my head in a lab tech’s office and chatted with him for a few minutes, then asked him, almost jokingly, if he wouldn’t mind doing all my experiments for me for the next week. “No problem, should I just email you the results?” was the quick reply. Freedom!
I headed across campus and walked into a coffee shop. There was a pretty long line for the late morning coffee rush. I hadn’t yet tried out giving suggestions to more than one person yet, but I called out to the crowd, “Sorry, I’m in a hurry, I need to order next.” For what seemed like a long instant, everyone paused and looked at me, but then the entire line stepped aside, and the gray-haired professor at the front of the line waved me forward to take his spot. Jackpot! After ordering a large black coffee I told the barista it would be on the house, to which she immediately agreed.
I was teaching first year graduate students a couple times a week, and there were a few hotties in the class I wouldn’t mind getting to know better – especially now that I had compound 606 coursing through my veins. One in particular stood out in my mind. Kristie was a younger, hotter, blonder version of my current girlfriend Sarah. She was straight out of undergrad, probably age 22, slightly above average in height, athletic and slim, and blessed with a small, tight ass that just popped in the tight jeans she preferred to wear. She had dirty blond hair that was always pulled into a loose high ponytail and skin a shade darker than one would expect from her otherwise Nordic features. Her face was simply gorgeous, with flawless skin, large, expressive, gray-blue eyes, and a perpetual mischievous grin. Like Sarah, she was a former college athlete (an all-star in soccer at Stanford) and she moved like a predator on the prowl: smooth, effortless, without wasted motion. It’s hard to describe her in a way other than “hot,” but I’ll try: if girls were cars, Sarah might be a Lexus – nice, pretty, reliable, appealing, great-car-don’t-get-me-wrong – but Kristie would be a Ferrari – a rare feat of human engineering and artistry that takes a special effort to not gawk at inappropriately. I couldn’t help but crack a pervy grin imagining the things I would do with the perfectly tuned machine that was her body.
Still wearing a loopy smile, I sat down at a table in the common space watching the first years mill about between classes. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I saw I had a message from Sarah, I opened it up and was treated with a smoking hot picture of her in a sheer black lace bra and thong, with sheer black thigh-high stockings topped with a matching band of black lace, biting her lip and posing in a mirror with a hand on her hip. I was so riled up thinking about Kristie that I had almost forgotten I had instructed Sarah to buy some lingerie and sext me pictures while trying it on. She looked phenomenal, and I started imagining all the filthy fun we would have this evening. One thing I had to know, though: did she forget everything that happened this morning like I asked her? I sent some messages back, told her she looked amazing, and that she must be having a fun morning. Did she not have to work?
My phone buzzed again with messages from Sarah: “needed a personal day,” followed by, “haven’t seen you in a while,” and “wanna cum over tonight? ;-)”
I wrote back, “what do you mean a while?” I needed to be sure.
“been like a week hun” and then quickly: “girl’s got needs!!”
Wow, so she apparently did not remember me being there this morning, though the effects were apparent: the sexy pics and suggestive texts were not something she usually would do on her own. Erasing memories might yet prove a useful trick if I did something really stupid.
I quickly texted her back: “yeah, let’s play tonight” followed by, “have some things to do on campus, will call when on the way,” then I slid my phone in my pocket and stood up – for out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a familiar messy blond ponytail slicing through a gaggle of loitering students.
“Hey Kristie!” I called out as I closed the distance between us.
“Dan! What’s up?” she responded, smiling and turning to meet me. She was wearing her typical tight blue jeans, brightly colored running shoes, and some sort of slinky dark gray sleeveless top (a yoga shirt maybe?) that clung to her narrow waist and showed off her smooth, toned arms.
I was suddenly a little nervous. I hadn’t thought of anything to say, or even what I planned to do next. “Hey, uh, the simulation lab, uh, stuff for this week’s class needs calibrating. Could you come give me a hand with it?” It wasn’t really plausible, but there it was.
She didn’t hesitate: “Sure, let’s go.”
Hah! I don’t know what I was worried about. Compound 606 has got my back. As we started walking together, I tried to think about where to go that we could be alone. There are the “on-call rooms” full of beds in the hospital, but they are disgusting, communal, and nothing like the sex romp rooms of Grey’s Anatomy. Plus no matter the time of day or night, there was likely to be some poor resident sneaking an exhausted nap in one of the beds, and I didn’t have the heart to interrupt those precious few minutes of sleep they might get. Then I remembered there was a practice exam room in the next building over that was sometimes used for class. It had a hospital bed, an exam table and all sorts of other things in it, and was far enough from the main classrooms that it was almost always deserted.
“The, uh, lab stuff is actually in the practice exam room. Let’s head over that way.”
Again, not plausible, but at least stated somewhat confidently this time. As we walked, she pressed in close to my side (effect of the pheromones, or maybe she’s just into me?) and before long I had my arm draped around her narrow, wiry shoulders as we strolled and chatted about nothing in particular.
As we walked in the room, I said, “So, I have a confession: there is no lab stuff to calibrate.”
She replied almost absentmindedly, twirling the end of her ponytail as she circled the small room and turned to face me, “Huh? Yeah, I figured. That didn’t make any sense.”
“So why’d you come along?” I looked her over hungrily and stepped closer, my pulse quickening and my cock already hardening in my pants. She turned her head up slightly, lips parted, and the look in her eyes could only be described as “smoldering.” My brain was shutting down in the face of all her hotness, so I had to act. I grabbed her wrists with one hand and lifted her arms over her head, leaned in and kissed her, pressing my body against hers with her back stretched up against the wall. She drew in a sharp breath and opened her mouth to invite my tongue past her lips. She tasted faintly of mint gum and some unidentifiable spice, and her lips were heavenly soft.
After sharing a few long, passionate kisses, she answered my question with one of her own: “Do I need an excuse to hang out with my favorite TA?” With a hilariously fake pout she whispered, “I’ll do annnything to get my grade up, teacher.”
I let her arms go and stepped back, deciding to play along.
“Anything?”
She nodded.
“Hmm. I think I can see where this is going. Quid pro quo. Of course, I’ll need to inspect the goods. Why don’t you strip down to your panties while I think about it.”
Without a pause, she kicked off her shoes and bent to pull her socks off. As she started to wriggle out of her tight jeans, I took a moment to reflect on what was happening. I hadn’t actually asked her to do anything but come with me before I kissed her. It all seemed really natural and unforced, but she had never given me an overtly sexual signal in our past friendly or professional banter in the past. I did ask her to strip for me, but I didn’t have to ask her to act like she was enjoying this as much as she clearly was. From what I gathered from Marko’s notes and what I’ve experienced so far, the pheromones dial up sexuality and attraction to a level something like a real-life Axe commercial, and I don’t have to explicitly demand that women be attracted to me. It does seem like people will comply with the intent of my suggestions, though. I don’t need to spell out each step explicitly like with some stupid genie trying to nail me on a technicality with every wish. Maybe the girls were reading between the lines of my suggestions and doing their best to comply, or maybe both in the case of Sarah and Kristie, the urges were already there, and the Compound 606 just helped open the door, or…
My thoughts were interrupted when Kristie’s hot pink bra caught me in the face after she threw it at my head.
She twirled around gracefully, “What do you think?”
As far as I was concerned, she was a work of art, the image of a perfect modern woman. My eyes wandered up her long legs, her skin so smooth and soft that it diffused light, stretched over wiry, taut muscles. I recognized the effects (from my girlfriend Sarah) of a dedicated runner. Her legs ended in narrow hips framed with a neon pink thong and that magnificently compact, round ass that I had been sneaking glimpses of through her jeans all year. I let my gaze drift up to her stomach where I found not the bulky washboard abs of a body builder but a flat, rippled surface that looked impossibly strong, like twisted steel, and yet inviting, like I could rest my head there and fall asleep. And oh-my-God her breasts! Smallish but not flat, full but not bulky, perky but not pointy, curved just so, with small, dark-pink areolas and nipples. They were just absolutely perfectly proportioned, and were absolutely the star attraction of her magnificent body. I tore my eyes off them with some difficulty to follow the curve of her long neck back to her face, where she gave me a sweetly nervous smile. “Well, what do you think?”
I was stunned for a moment, but then managed to choke some words out, “I’d give it an A-minus; could use some work.”
She giggled, “Shut up, you know this is hot,” gesturing down her body.
I patted the exam table. “Hop up here and I’ll take a closer look.”
She obliged, dangling her legs over the end of the table. I stepped between her legs and put my hands on her shoulders, laying her down flat. I bent over her and kissed one of her nipples, flicked it with my tongue and sucked it past my teeth, feeling it stiffen as I did so before repeating the exercise on the other side, but for longer. She let out a soft moan of pleasure. I slid my hand down her flat stomach and cupped her mound over her thong, massaging through the fabric while I played with her wonderful breasts with my other hand and mouth. After a short time, she started to soak the front of her underwear, and she pulled herself to sitting and started to tug at my clothes, trying to pull the shirt off my head. I obliged, tossing my shirt into a heap on the floor, and stepping out of my shoes, socks, pants and boxers in basically one swift motion. I was rock hard and my cock was standing at full attention when freed from its fabric prison.
Now that I was naked, she returned the appraising look, and seemed to be happy with what she found. I’m not a big meathead gym guy, but I eat healthy and keep myself in good shape, and while not hung like a porn star, I swing a larger than average 8 inches (wish I could say I was cool enough to never have measured). Right now all of those inches desperately wanted inside of Kristie. I pulled her now-soaked thong off and found a completely smooth mound and a pair of swollen, glistening-wet labia. Her inner lips were just peeking out from between, open like symmetrical rose petals. Even her pussy was perfect. Part of me wanted to stretch things out, enjoy some frisky foreplay, taste her juices, etc., but the lower head won out as my dick was pulled magnetically to her. I leaned over her as she lay back on the table and, standing between her legs, positioned my cock at her entrance. I didn’t say a word, but swirled the tip in her natural lube before making eye contact and slowly pushing inside her.
“Mmm-God-Dan-Yes!!” Kristie yelled out in a rush as she threw her head back. I inched in deeper with a slow rhythm, the walls of her pussy adjusting to and gripping my intruding cockhead. Once inside her tight, warm, wet tunnel, the temptation to wildly fuck her was even stronger, and it took all my self-control just to slowly build up to speed. If I hadn’t blown my load in Sarah’s mouth not many hours ago, I would have orgasmed six times already from the pure sensory overload of fucking this magnificent creature.
I could at least try to warn her: “Baby, this is going to be somewhat of a quickie; I just want to fuck your brains out…”
While I spoke I guided her off the table to her feet, turned her around and bent her over the table so she was resting on her elbows. She spread her legs and arched her back, turning back over her shoulder with her messy blonde hair framing her flushed face as she fixed me with a gaze that just screamed sex. That look, along with a close-up view of her divine ass and dripping pussy drove me absolutely wild, and I ferociously plunged deep into her, both of us uttering a primal grunt as I slammed my cock home. I reached around and played with her clit as I started to savagely fuck her from behind. Her moans reached towards a musical crescendo as I absolutely railed her, using her well-muscled ass cheeks as a backstop. I had no control over anything my body was doing at this point, and may have even forgotten to breathe, because when I came, my knees buckled and my vision darkened briefly before I caught myself from falling and sprayed her insides with so much hot cum that it seemed it could have filled her from toes to eyeballs.
She was slumped over the table, head on her forearms, her breasts glistening with sweat and heaving with her heavy breathing. I sat/collapsed on the floor beside her, staring at those breasts, unable to speak anything beyond, “woah… wow…”
I finally started a sentence: “Did you…”
She guessed where I was going and nodded. “Oh yeah. I did.” I noticed her eyes were a little glazed, and she seemed as stoned on endorphins as I felt. We both let the moment linger without another word as our breathing slowly returned to normal. When I caught her eye again, she was grinning like an idiot. It was infectious, and soon we both were laughing for absolutely no reason. I had a brief mental image of the film of the Beatles deliriously rolling around in the grass after they discovered weed for the first time.
I had no work I had to do. I hadn’t needed to spend a cent all day. My girlfriend had discovered her sexual appetite and was out buying lingerie for tonight’s merry-making. A vision of female perfection was still blissed out, bent lewdly over a table with my cum dripping out of her. It was not even 11am on what was already quite possibly the best day of my life up to this point.
To be continued…