The label reads “Sample XVX-9001”.
I kiss the bottle gently in disbelief. This tiny spray bottle may look like a sample of perfume, but it marks the culmination of more than 7 years of my life.
I’d started on it with the mindset of a 22 year old. What if I could make a sex drug? (An idea from a horny college guy to be sure) But not just for treating dysfunction. For enhancement of the libido. For enhancing the physical body.
I’d played around with it in the lab for a few semesters and before I knew it, I’d written my Master’s thesis on it: Dual Application of Pheromone Triggers and Gene Therapy as Promoters of Human Sexual Desire.
It got me into a PhD program, and by then I was committed. I’d finally completed preliminary trials and submitted my research as a major part of my dissertation. And it was done.
A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Dr. Kimball?”
“Mark, glad I caught you in the lab. I was worried you’d cut out early on a Friday. Do you have sec?”
I glanced at my watch. I was due home for my anniversary dinner in less than an hour, but as a PhD candidate, it was hard not to have time for the dean of the medical college. I slip the vial into the pocket of my lab coat.
“Sure, what can I do for you?”
Dean Kimball pulls a stool out from under the counter and sits down, frowning. He crosses his arms. With his camel hair coat and grey hair, it was hard for him not to look like an old school professor.
“Mark, it’s your research. Dr. Bryant was always a big fan. He got you into the program and oversaw everything. I hope you appreciate all the water he carried for you over the last couple of years.”
I only nod, sensing where this conversation is going.
“You know he’s retiring, right? And well, with him gone, the University can’t really see itself dabbling in…sex research.”
“What do you mean? Like after I’m gone?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, no. I’m afraid not. I mean this.” He uncrosses his arms to gesture around the lab.
“I mean over there.” He points to a wall of cages along the back wall, home to my dozen or so test rats.
“My God, man. They can’t stop fucking.” He shakes his finger angrily. “Look at that one, he’s fucking his damn food bowl. And that one, his dick is bigger than mine.”
That was probably an exaggeration, although Rat #7 did have a 4-inch penis, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities.
“I just…we’ll still grant your degree. You’ve done the work. No one is disputing that. But we need you to turn everything in so we can destroy it. All your subjects, your formulas. Any samples you have left. We want to just forget about this whole thing and all get on with our lives.”
I look down at the floor, righteous anger blooming inside me.
“Fuck you, Bob.”
“Whoa, whoa…”
“No, fuck you. I’ve been working on this for 7 years. I’ve had letters from drug companies looking to patent the whole thing and make a lot of money. And you want to destroy it because you’re embarrassed? Fuck you and fuck this place. I have half a mind to walk out with my research right this second.”
At the sound of my raised voice, a campus policeman steps in from the hall.
“Everything ok here?” His hand is resting on his unstrapped gun.
“Now, let’s just all calm down.” Dean Kimball has his hands raised defensively.
“You’re not going to do that. And nobody wants any trouble. We’re fine, ok?” He waves the office back out of the room. “We’re fine.”
“Now look, you’ve worked really hard for this degree, right? Don’t mess that up. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to walk right out that door and go have a nice relaxing weekend. When you get back in here on Monday, the whole lab is going to be nice and clean, and in a couple of weeks, you get a diploma in the mail. That doesn’t sound so bad does it?”
I grab my bag on the way out of the room but make sure to throw up a middle finger over my right shoulder.
“Fuck you, Bob.” I say again. I extend the same sentiment to three officers I pass in the hall.
That night at dinner, I have trouble keeping my mind on the happy occasion.
“Is everything ok at the lab?”
I smile weakly. Amanda is the best thing to ever happen to me. We met 5 years ago during undergrad, and while I’d been spinning my wheels in a research lab chasing degrees, she’d gone out and gotten a real job. Her marketing salary paid for most our apartment and lifestyle. Hell, she would probably pay for dinner tonight. And my plan had always been to sell my research, pull in a boatload of cash and retire to some island with her where we could spend our days making love like sea otters.
“Sorry, shitty day.”
“Well, at least you’re almost done, right? Then we’re going to be so rich, we’ll have to remember what it was like to wipe our own butts.”
I can’t help but laugh. She smiles.
I loosen up by dessert. Three glasses of wine certainly doesn’t hurt either. In the cab home, I’m focused only on her, my beautiful girlfriend. Five and a half feet of beautiful pale skin and eyes only for me. Her head is on my shoulder, and I smell her shampoo. I kiss her soft curly brown locks.
“I love you, Amanda. Sorry I was such an ass tonight.”
“I love you, too. We’ll see if we can’t cheer you up a little more when we get home.”
In my trousers, my cock jumps. (Bad day or not, I’m still a man.) Read more »