Laboratory Love

by Chrystal Wynd

  He took my arm. His hands on my skin was for innocent purposes- medical, no less- but his touch set my blood racing. My body tingled in response to his presence. I was crazy wet already and I wanted to straddle him right here at the table.

  “You look nice, by the way,” he said, wrapping my upper arm with elastic. “I don’t recall seeing you in that skirt before. Shows off your legs.”

  Had Simon just noticed my legs?

  I barely felt the needles sliding into my arm.

  He finished and set the two syringes in a plastic case. “There,” he said. “All done.”

  I didn’t answer. I was still breathing in his scent.

  “Corine?” he said.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. So wet.

  “Corine?” he said again.

  So hot. So aroused. Wriggling. Can’t help myself.

  “Corine!” said Simon.

  I jumped to my feet. “For Pete’s sake, fuck me already!”

  Simon blinked. “Here? In the break room?”

  I grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled my lush body against him. “Yes! Here! In the lab! I don’t care! But for the love of everything, fuck me!”

  I kissed him. Hard. His firm lips against my swollen, oversensitive pillows, my heavy breasts against his chest.

  And finally he responded.

  He spun me around and pushed me forward, bending me over the table. My skirt was flipped up over my ass, my panties pulled down over my hips, down my thighs and off my ankles. I heard Simon’s pants hit the ground. Then his strong hands were on my hips and his rock-hard cock was pushing into my crazy wet pussy.

  I gasped.

  “Like that, do you?” said Simon. He pulled back and thrust into me again.

  I gasped, then cursed.

  Simon paused, finally realizing my responses to his thrusts weren’t actually moans of passion.

  “Corine?” he said.

  “It…it hurts!”

  “Hurts?” he said, sounding confused.

  “Yes, it hurts! You fucked me too hard this afternoon! Too much!”

  “Umm…sorry…?” he said, pulling his thick, rigid shaft from my wet channel carefully.

  Suddenly I was horribly empty again.

  I shrieked, “Don’t you DARE stop!”

  “But…I’m hurting you…”

  “Don’t stop!” I said. “Put it someplace else then! I don’t care! But put your FUCKING COCK INSIDE ME OR I WILL DESTROY YOU!”

  I was nearly incoherent by this time, desperation making me irrational, with no clue as to what I was saying. My body was a cacophony of heat and need.

  Simon- apparently realizing it would be dangerous to step away and equally dangerous to penetrate my sore, aching vagina- came to a decision. A moment later my eyes widened as I felt a sudden heavy pressure against my tight rear opening.

  I hadn’t really given him any choice, but putting it in my virgin ass wasn’t what I had intended. I opened my mouth to protest, but my swollen lips fumbled as I tried to squeak out a denial.

  The fat head of his cock- well-lubed from being inside my overheated pussy- pushed through my tight rear opening. Then he slid his thick shaft a few inches into my back channel. He paused, giving me a few moments to get used to it.

  I was breathing shallowly, unable to talk. The sensations were overwhelming. Simon was sticking his cock into my ass! Instinctively I wanted to protest, to stop him…but I couldn’t even speak.

  And then my traitor body relaxed and suddenly Simon’s dick slid fully inside my ass. Simon was balls-deep in my tight back door.

  I shuddered and moaned…but not in pain. I was being overwhelmed by paralytic pleasure. The chrystalmic had turned my body into an erogenous zone, and that now included making my back pucker a zone of clit-like intensity.

  Simon’s hands were on my shoulders, pressing me down against the table as he stroked his cock into my ass. His heavy balls slapped my clit as he stroked into my virgin back door.

  My cheek pressed against the table as I moaned. I was drooling. The intensity of the sensations was like nothing I had ever experienced before. His cock was in my ass- deep inside my ass. My sphincter was impossibly stretched, squeezing Simon’s rigid shaft as it plunged inside me.

  I was no longer thinking at any level. I was purely a creature of heat and sensation by this point.

  And even Simon was animal-like now. His thrusts became shorter, stronger, more erratic…and then he buried his cock fully inside my ass and exploded.

  My eyes widened as he blasted his load into my bowels. The sensations from Simon filling my tight back door with his sperm triggered my release and suddenly I was squealing like the ass slut I had become as I experienced my first anal orgasm.

  I wriggled and writhed under Simon, pinned to the table under his strong hands, his cock still draining into my rear channel. I couldn’t stop. Wave after wave of intense sensations swept over me, turning me into a wet, lisping mess. Even as Simon collapsed onto my back, his balls finally empty, I continued to shudder and moan.

  Then a black curtain dropped and I spiraled down into a deep, satisfied sleep.

  ToC

  Chapter 8

  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 steppe
d 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 b
ring 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?”

  Dr. Cormick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The second point of interest is that it appears that Miss Strait is allergic to chrystalmic.”

  That got my attention. “What?!”

  Dr. Cormick nodded. “You've been experiencing a very bad reaction, my dear, complete with swelling and adverse conditions. And if I’m not mistaken, your lips are still very much swollen. Your lips were the primary point of contact, were they not?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.