Chapter 1

It was a perfectly innocuous beginning for the experiment in question, but it naturally worked better than even its mastermind intended. Ironically, the reasons given for the research grant that led to the production of the prototype were to improve the ability of female soldiers, sailors, etc. to function during and after capture by enemy troops in a conflict situation. While women still largely didn’t serve in combat, it was hoped that this would reduce the trauma and long-term psychological harm for them and female police or federal agents in extreme combat stress environments. It went unsaid that it would also lower women’s negative responses to various “micro-aggressions” and other false forms of harassment or low-intensity forms of it. For the Pentagon, it sounded like a plus.

Unfortunately for the Pentagon, the clinical trials had another, unexpected result. Seven officers and sixteen enlisted women ended up committing adultery, getting pregnant while on deployment, or even sexually harassing male or female colleagues. At least under the present Uniform Code of Military Justice, it was not practical to use the formula, so it was not added to the ladies’ bath products as initially planned. The official reason given was that the “extreme suggestibility or susceptibility of female respondents in clinical trials, coupled with hypersexuality induced as a result of the formula in question, represent a heightened risk to unit discipline, cohesion, and morale.”

Additionally, the fact that the conditioner had been designed strictly with women and not both sexes in mind carried major political risks, should it be leaked to the press that something so “misogynistic” or “sexist” had been created. The Pentagon simply handed its remaining stock of the prototype conditioners, shampoo, body wash, and other such bath products back to the inventor and quietly told him, “thanks, but no thanks,” though in nice, Pentagon, bureaucratic jargon, of course. It didn’t destroy the stuff, but the brass decided that it didn’t to be caught holding the bag for it. Therefore, it destroyed all evidence of its own possession as much as possible, shredded documents, deleted files, and let the inventor or designer deal with any potential fallout.

It had no idea what it was about to unleash on the world. The inventor had a lot of stock on his hands and no buyers. What would he do with his product? What could he do with it? He still had some legal bills to pay and a shortage of space. The Pentagon had never disclosed to him the exact nature of the issues that it had with his work, leaving all of its reasons vague when addressing him, even as it raised more specifics in internal (now mostly destroyed) data and files. A recently divorced workaholic who hadn’t been thinking at all of possible sexual benefits for himself or the rest of humanity, it never occurred to him that his product had simply worked too well.

Now quietly pushed into early retirement in order to keep him silent and disassociate Uncle Sam from him (the Pentagon had literally pensioned off and paid him to take his stuff back, it was such a hot potato), Dr. Samuel Goldstein had a lot of time on his hands and a desperate need to get those boxes of feminine bath products out of his house. Sam, as he liked to be called, briefly considered dumping it on his ex-wife’s yard and calling it “payment in kind” for her share of the home. Sam quickly decided that his ex might call neighborhood watch on him if she saw him in her neighborhood (she was that bizarre and unreasonable of late) so dismissed that idea. Liz had left him abruptly around the same time that the Pentagon had rejected his product, and at least part of Sam thought that it was due to the feeling that he was a failure. She lived with a “roommate” in a home whose ownership wasn’t entirely clear to him, but at least she had opted not to keep the house.

Things changed on a Thursday morning, smack dab in the middle of the week, when the doorbell rang and Sam rushed out of the shower to answer the door. He had slept in a little, frankly because he had hit the sauce a bit more than usual the night before, and he had no particular plans that day. Still, it was about 10:30 or close to it, so it was morning, albeit late morning. Sam wore only a bath towel as he answered the door, so his chest was very bare, including all of the hair on it, and his skin was still quite wet.

“Hello, can I help?” Sam asked the neighbor, whom he had barely met in the past, a rather petite young woman in her early twenties.

“Woah, did I come at a bad time? I was showering, just like you ... but I’m out of conditioner. See how my hair looks? Still damp! Bad hair day, like for real, okay? I ... got dressed and went over here, hoping that you had some conditioner of some kind to borrow. I know that’s much to ask, given that we don’t even know each other’s names. I barely know your wife’s name and I haven’t seen her around at all lately. Liz, wasn’t it?

“So, anyway, is there any chance I can borrow a spare bottle of conditioner? I checked my bank balance and everything that I have is spoken for except literally sixty nine cents, which won’t even buy a bottle in the fucking dollar store! I won’t get any money in the account until tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. Pretty please? I’m Marley, by the way. Short for Marlena Juana Sanchez, though I look very white, I’ve been told,” the cute, if a bit sheltered, brunette with the dimples and the Valley Girl lingo finally introduced herself to her neighbor.

“I’m Sam. Short for Samuel Yitzhak Goldstein. I’m a retired government worker, if you must know. Liz was my wife’s name, but we just got divorced. That’s why you haven’t seen her around lately. It became final yesterday, in fact. That’s why I have a hangover. I was ... uh, celebrating my new freedom as a single man, if you will. I just got out of the shower, which made me feel a bit more human, less simian, if you will. Nice to meet you at last, neighbor. As it happens, I have a spare bottle that my ex didn’t take with her and I never discarded. Evidently, she wasn’t a fan of it,” Sam lied rather cleverly, seeing a chance to get rid of at least one bottle and also help Marley at the same time.

“Oh, thank you! That helps a lot! And, yeah, I totally get that girls can be very picky about their conditioners. I left a bottle at my ex-boyfriend’s once, right about the time that I broke up with him because of a very silly argument that made even me feel that I’d been stupid. Naturally, my former best friend Shelly capitalized on my mistake and just grabbed him with both hands, but that’s another story. It’s a sore subject, don’t know why I brought it up. Maybe I’m just distracted by the half-naked man in front of me and it’s causing me to run my mouth a bit. Sorry about the TMI. For what it’s worth, Liz needs glasses or contacts or something. If I was your wife, I’d hang onto you with a death grip or handcuff myself to you for fear that you’d let me go!” Marley blushed a little at her reaction.

“Um ... thanks. Anyway, here, let me get that bottle for you,” Sam walked away (awkwardly, due to his hard-on at this point) back to the shower, where he indeed had a bottle that Liz had flatly refused to even try when he broached the subject.

Unfortunately for him, his towel slipped a bit and showed Marley part of his manly, slick, hairy butt, which just made her lust for him even more. She got a crazy idea in her head right then, and she wondered how she could get it to work for her. She had to wait for the guy to come back, of course, or did she? Marley closed the front door behind her and walked down the long hallway toward Sam’s guest bathroom, on the pretense that she had to pee as well.

Seeing Sam emerge from the master bedroom, Marley realized that he must have a bathroom there, too. She had to think of an excuse to corner him somehow, and then it dawned on her. She walked toward him with a sheepish smile and shrugged her shoulders before facepalming herself, as if embarrassed. She even blushed a little.

“Silly of me to ask something else so soon after borrowing the conditioner, but your ex wouldn’t have left any cosmetics or anything like that in the vanity, would she? Maybe some perfume or makeup or anything like that? I mean, since I’m already borrowing from you, that is. I’ll do something very special for you and soon. Maybe bake some cookies or whatever you like, if that’s okay with you,” Marley inquired now, making Sam laugh and nod.

“Come on. I bought Liz this particular lip gloss a few years’ back, but she hated it. She said that it made her feel like a slut or something. Speaking of which, she left some lingerie, not to be too forward, which she hated for the same reason. That’s funny, given that she probably wears something as risque for her ‘roommate,’ who is likely her boyfriend. If it bothers you, you don’t have to take them, I could understand why. But if you wanted something borrowed, those are two things that immediately came to mind. Hell, when you get married, you’d only need the old, new, and blue stuff after that, wouldn’t you?” Sam chuckled now, even as Marley snickered at how he took her bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Safely equipped with those three gifts, Marley chose that moment to strike, “accidentally” brushing Sam just right to make his towel fall and his package expose itself to her. She drank in the sight of a thick, hard rod, which was clearly stiff at the sight of her, she could tell that much, and knelt to supposedly help him get that towel back up. Looking up at him, she winked, rose, and undressed right in front of her host. She grabbed the conditioner, walked into his shower, closed the door, and started using the product in question.

Sam laughed to himself as he watched this happen, even if the sight of Marley’s naked body before she hit the shower made his hard-on even worse. He was a little stunned at her brazenness. Then again, she was young, single, and perhaps hoped to land herself a boyfriend or husband now that she saw him as available. He debated within himself about trying to join her, as it was his own shower and she used it without his permission. He opted not to do so yet, as he thought best to learn her real intentions first, and he didn’t wish to risk trying his own product, just in case.

Seventeen long minutes later, Marley emerged from the shower. Her hair shone with a luxuriance that it lacked before and her face had a very awed expression on it. This soon changed to a rather predatory smile and a still very naked Marley walked directly to Sam before planting a very sweet kiss on his lips. Then she knelt again, opened her mouth wide, and engulfed his cock between her lips like it was a corn dog that she just had to eat right then and there. His balls were very tight at that very moment, thanks to fantasies about Marley, Liz, and other women, so Marley’s impromptu blowjob more than sufficed to make him nearly cum on the spot.

“Marley, wow, that’s impressive, but right now, be honest with me. Did you come inside my bedroom to trap me into a rebound romance or perhaps even a marriage? If so, how do you feel now?” Sam asked, trying not to cum too fast right then.

“I did, but all that I can think about right now is your cock, your cum, and your hot, manly, hairy bod! I don’t know why, but I ache even more with desire for you than before. Then, I wanted to keep you and make you mine, but now I just want to be yours! Whatever you say, I’ll do it! I can’t help it! I want to obey you! Please, let me serve you, Sam!” Marley declared, unable to withhold any information from the object of her passion and lust.

“Okay, but from now on, you live with me. You move in with me and you do whatever I tell you. Is that clear? No defiance, no disobedience, no arguments, and no fucking jealousy! Also, whenever it’s just you and me like this, you’re always naked. Are we clear?” Sam realized the full effect of the conditioner now.

Holy smokes, Sam thought. No longer the Pentagon wanted rid of the stuff so badly! This was a political toxic waste dump for them, especially in the era of #MeToo! In theory, all well and good to make a female population in some occupied country compliant if that would serve the needs of the State or whatever. In reality, if anyone from the press or some kind of feminist organization, or God forbid, Gloria Allred, were to learn of it, it would be pandemonium and the Feds would be tied up in court for a century! Heads would roll and someone would probably get court-martialed to appease the population. They couldn’t even sell it to Israel for fear that Hamas might hijack a shipment or something!

Worse still, the orange-wigged ass clown in the White House might brag about it or abuse it for his own sick desires in his rather clumsy manner and cause an international incident somehow. Sam was increasingly free of his strict Orthodox upbringing and the baggage from Hebrew school, but even he found some of the Donald’s reported kinks a bit stomach-churning from what he’d heard. Mind control was one thing, but getting peed on by Russian hookers and drinking their piss was something entirely else. Given their own sexual hang-ups, the brass was sure to be worried about the Donald in that sense even more than Sam was.