Laboratory Love (6 page)

I
awoke a few hours later. I was still on the table, but covered with a blanket.
My skirt was back in place.

Sighing,
I stood up, completely mortified. I had been butt-fucked and come like a slut.
In fact, I had come so hard, I had passed-out. If I ever managed to get myself
fixed, I was going to have to move away and change my name.

All
kinds of muscles ached. Even muscles that hadn’t ached when I arrived at the
lab now ached. I stretched slowly, stalling. I was still too embarrassed to
face Simon just yet.

I
was wet, of course. No surprise there. But not as intense as before. Getting
anally pumped was humiliating, but at least it was keeping the overwhelming
arousal at bay.

“Corine?”

I
jumped and cursed. “Dammit, Simon! Stop sneaking up on me like a ninja!” I knew
I was tired if I had heard him before I smelled him.

He
grinned. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Do
that!”

He
looked me over. “I came in to check on you. How do you feel?”

I
looked around, trying to find my panties. “How do I feel? Like you were beating
me with a very big stick.”

Simon
shrugged. “Well, I don’t like to brag…”

I
looked at Simon in amazement. “Did you just make a dick joke?”

“Yes,”
he said, wearing Solemn Scientist face. “I don’t believe there’s a Blonde
Concepts rule specifically forbidding them. I’ve never put it to the test, though.”

I
held up my hand. “All right, all right. I get it. I just haven’t heard you use
that form of humor before.”

Simon
nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “This being a professional setting, I
admittedly don’t resort to dick jokes too often. Unless Dr. Banford is around.
He loves dick jokes.”

My
eyes widened. “Seriously?!”

Simon
laughed. “No, not seriously.”

“All
right, smart ass,” I said. “Do you have anything important to share, or are you
just here to make fun of the woman you butt-fucked into oblivion?”

There.
I had said it. Now he could make fun of me.

But
he didn’t. He simply said, “Well, I think I did make some progress. I have to
contact a colleague of mine tomorrow…” he glanced at the clock, then amended
himself. “…later today, however, for some confirmation. I’m too tired to get
into to it at the moment, though. For now, we need to go to our respective
homes and get some sleep.”

It
finally occurred to me how haggard Simon looked. Then I realized with a guilty
start that Simon had been awake for nearly two days trying to help me.

I
also realized with a blush that I had been almost no help whatsoever.

“You
really think you’re on to something?”

Simon
nodded. “Yes,” he said. “In fact, I have something for you.”

I
stepped back with both hands on my sore bottom, an apprehensive look on my
face.

Simon
laughed. “No, not that,” he said, holding up a syringe. “A different kind of
shot.”

“What
is that?” I asked, trying not to sound suspicious.

“Hopefully
confirmation that I’m right,” he said. “If I’m wrong, though, this won’t hurt
you.”

“Fine,”
I grumbled. “Whatever, Mister Mystery Scientist guy. Which arm?”

He
shook his head. “Not the arm. Hip.”

I
gave him a look through narrowed eyes, but turned slightly and pulled up the
hem of my skirt, offering a bared rounded hip.

I
felt the needle slide into my right butt cheek, which seemed a lot lower than
necessary. I yelped and gave him a glare.

He
took a step back and affected an innocent expression. “What?”

“That
didn’t feel like a hip placement.”

“Oops.”

I
gave him another glare. “It didn’t actually need to be a hip placement, did it?
A shoulder injection would have worked just fine, wouldn’t it?”

He
gave a teasing smile that melted me. “Maybe,” he said. “Hard to say. I’m a
chemist, not a biologist.”

I
dropped my skirt back into place, rubbing my butt cheek and muttering about the
duplicity of male scientists in general. If he didn’t smell so good, I’d have
hit him with something.

“Anyway,”
he said, “go home and get some sleep. We’ll know more tomorrow.”

I
nodded.

I
looked at him, unsure of what to do. He had fucked my ass a few hours earlier.
What was the farewell protocol for that? A goodnight kiss? Handshake?
High-five?

Simon
smiled at me and nodded. Then he turned and left the lab.

I
sighed. Apparently Simon was fucking me in the name of science. How noble.

*****

I
dragged myself home. It was Sunday, nearly six in the morning. This whole thing
had started Friday morning. Not even forty-eight hours ago. It felt like a
week.

 I
set my alarm for noon. I needed to get back to the lab early. Today was the
last day I had to get myself fixed, get rid of this embarrassing lip color and
create a red lipstick without chrystalmic that matched the hue on my lips. And
I had to do it without chronic masturbation or letting Simon fuck me into
unconsciousness in the pursuit of knowledge. Easy as falling off a log.

Stupid
log.

I
slept deeply and Simon figured prominently in my dreams. Very steamy dreams. I
don’t typically experience sex dreams- particularly crazy monkey-sex dreams-
but I did this time. I’d also never orgasmed while sleeping before. Live and
learn.

I
awoke drenched in sweat, still tired and very body-sore. But despite my lips
still being sensitive and low-grade arousal still warming my belly, I was in
full control of my faculties. I was getting better.

My
body also felt closer to my natural dimensions. Perhaps there was hope after
all.

Except
I looked at my alarm clock and realized I had blown it. It was almost nine at
night.

*****

I
groaned. Not only was I still stuck with tingly slut-red lips, Simon must have
thought I’d blown him off. He spent all weekend trying to help me and I
couldn’t be bothered to show up. Not good.

I
stood up slowly and groaned again. I could barely move. Even if I made it to
the lab, I was too tired and sore to do any good.

I
padded out to my kitchen, then stopped. There was a glass of some kind of green
liquid on my kitchen counter. It was sitting on a napkin that had a note
written on it.

Cor,

Drink
this. Put on the lip gloss. See you Monday.

S.

What
the hell?

I
sighed, too tired to try figuring it out. I picked up the glass and sniffed. It
didn’t smell as bad as I expected, but it still wasn’t appetizing. Whatever. I
drank the chalky, bland liquid straight down and then set the glass on the
counter.

Bleh.
Lousy aftertaste. Then I inadvertently burped and thought I would die. I was
going to kill Simon when I got the chance.

The
lip gloss was next to the note. I took it to the bathroom and looked in the
mirror as I layered it over my still-swollen bimbo-red lips. Now my lips were
bright red
and even
shinier. Yeah, perfect. Thanks, Simon.

I
ate some dinner, none of which mixed well with Simon’s green cocktail. Then I
took a shower and went back to sleep.

Tomorrow
was not shaping up to be a good day.

*****

This
time I woke up with my alarm. When I sat up, I realized nearly all traces of my
arousal were gone, as well as most of my body swelling. I was still a cup-size
of so larger than I should be and my red lips were still plump, bee-stung pillows,
but otherwise, I was the closest to normal I had been since Friday morning.

I
drank my coffee and put on my lip gloss. Then I drove to the lab.

I
was dressed more like my professional self today, as dressing like a needy
bimbo no longer seemed necessary. I passed by the security guards and the front
desk. Then I strolled into the meeting room.

“Good
morning, Miss Strait.”

It
was Dr. Banford. He was sitting at the table watching videos. Videos of me from
Thursday afternoon. Videos of me using chrystalmic in an unauthorized
experiment. Videos of me ignoring a dozen lab rules and protocol.

I
was fucked.

“Sit
down, Corine,” said Dr. Banford, indicating a chair at the table. “We’ll be
starting in a few minutes.”

I
sighed.

Two
minutes later Simon and an older man walked in.

Simon
said, “Good morning, Dr. Banford. I hope we didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“No
problem at all, Simon,” said Dr. Banford. “I was just watching footage of
Corine’s experiment.”

I
sighed again.

Simon
nodded. “Excellent. Now, Doctor Banford, Corine, may I present Doctor Richard
Cormick, head of the biology department at Chrystal Heights University?”

Dr.
Banford laughed. “No need to be so formal, Simon,” he said. “Rick and I go way
back. His glowing letter of recommendation for you was one of the reasons you
were hired at Blonde Concepts, despite your being related.”

I
looked at Simon. “You’re related to
the
Dr. Cormick?!”

“Uncle,”
said Simon, grinning.

“I
see,” I said, and I did. No wonder he knew so much about biology.

“Anyway,”
said Dr. Banford, indicating that Simon and Dr. Cormick should take a seat,
“what can I do for such an illustrious figure as yourself, Rick?”

“You
can lend me Corine Strait for a research collaboration,” said Dr. Cormick.

What
the hell?

Dr.
Banford said, “Did you say you want to do a research collaboration with us? And
you specifically want Corine for this?”

“You
got it in one, Carl,” said Dr. Cormick.

“All
right,” said Dr. Banford. “I’m listening.”

Dr.
Cormick pointed to the monitor where the video of me putting on my experimental
lipstick was still playing. “I assume you’re familiar with Miss Strait’s
experiment with chrystalmic?”

“Only
in general,” said Dr. Banford. “Not the specifics. I was in the middle of
considering whether her actions constituted a full suspension or just a simple
termination when you walked in, in fact.”

Dr.
Cormick chuckled. “Oh, come on, Carl. We were young and daring once, too.”

“True,”
said Dr. Banford, “although I never quite reached the level of experimenting on
myself with unknown agents.”

“Not
totally unknown!” I said. “There’s been some-“

Dr.
Banford and Dr. Cormick looked at me. Simon put his hand to his forehead and
shook his head.

“Sorry,”
I mumbled.

“Anyway,”
said Dr. Cormick, “as I was saying, my nephew gave me a rundown on what
transpired during and after the experiment.”

“That
had to be an interesting conversation,” said Dr. Banford.

“It
was indeed,” said Dr. Cormick. “And Simon was smart enough to bring me some
blood samples from Miss Strait. Our research is in the early stages and thus
obviously very crude, but the results so far are fascinating.”

“Go
on.”

“For
starters, it appears that chrystalmic and oxytocin share many similar
properties.”

“Oxytocin?”
said Dr. Banford. “You mean…?”

Dr.
Cormick nodded. “Yes, the hormone most believe responsible for binding a woman
to her partner.”

“I
agree that’s interesting,” said my boss, “but I’m not sure of the relevance.”

“Well,
there’re two points of interest here,” said Dr. Cormick. “The first is the fact
that it appears my nephew was imprinted on Miss Strait.”

“Imprinted?”

“Yes,”
said Dr. Cormick. “His DNA was introduced into Miss Strait and he became the
center of her world, much like when baby ducks first see their mother. I have
yet to test the extent of the imprinting, of course, but I would bet a year’s
grant that Miss Strait could identify Simon in a dark room by sense of smell
alone.”

I
turned bright red.

“Well,
now, that begs a question, does it not?” said Dr. Banford, turning to me. “That
question being, how did Simon’s DNA find its way inside you?”

The
question hung there. My cheeks continued burning.

Dr.
Cormick cut in smoothly. “I understand Miss Strait drank my nephew’s coffee not
long after she applied the chrystalmic compound,” he said. “That was the likely
exposure.”

“No
doubt,” said Dr. Banford, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. Then he turned
back to Dr. Cormick. “You mentioned
two
points of interest, Rick?”