Chapter 11

As it turned out, the best laid plans of this little mouse to get laid certainly went astray. (We had just read “Of Mice and Men” in Ingrid’s class, and she had us read Robert Burn’s poem “To a Mouse” first so we could understand the title. I couldn’t help chuckling while we were reading it, which the other kids thought was really odd of me, but I’m sure Ingrid knew I was thinking about her submissive little French mouse.)

I called Angelica to ask about having a date, and she frantically told me her husband Carlos had come home from his trip and she couldn’t even talk with me right then. She apologized and then hung up on me. I suppose I could have actually gone to the movies or done something else with Marie, but I was fixated on a mother/ daughter threesome. Anyhow, I didn’t think it would be convenient to try to find somewhere to have sex with her when her father was back home. More than that: from the bruises I had seen on Angelica’s body and the fear she had when she spoke of him, I got the feeling he was some kind of bad dude.

The upcoming week would start the holiday break, so I was sure I’d be able to find plenty of time to visit with Ingrid and Jacqueline again. I was eager to explore my dominant side that I’d recently discovered, and especially try that anal thing again. Maybe Ingrid would let me use them both like that?

Unfortunately, Ingrid told me they had made plans months ago to fly to Puerto Vallarta and stay at an exclusive resort that catered to the BDSM lifestyle. They had really been looking forward to doing their thing out in the open for a while, and it would cost them way too much money to cancel. She coyly invited me to join them, as their accommodations could easily fit three.

That sounded fantastic, but there was no way in the world I could explain this to Mom, let alone get the money for airfare. It would still be many months before we received any money, as the probate process was very slow. Anyhow, I wouldn’t have direct access to my share for years. Of course, no one else knew about the money yet except Ms. Stevens and Alice, and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else.

“Oh, well,” Ingrid said with real regret in her voice. “Maybe next time.”

I didn’t think that kind of trip was going to happen until after I turned eighteen, so I just thanked her for the sweet offer. Damn!

I thought about taking Kim up on her offer, but I remembered she told me her family was going skiing for a week. That would have been a longshot, anyhow.

Needless to say, I couldn’t find a way to meet up with Alice either, as she was still afraid of Mom firing her if she found out we had had sex. I was getting totally frustrated.

On the other hand, Mom was going to an overnight marketing conference on Tuesday and wouldn’t be back until late Wednesday night. I hoped maybe I could hook up with Alice Tuesday night, or maybe she could take Wednesday off. I would check when I went to my regular Tuesday meeting with Dr. Faizal. If it worked out, I would be happy to skip my taekwondo class.

Okay, so for a 15-year-old who had been a naive virgin six months ago I was getting pretty demanding about have regular sex.

Even though I was not scheduled for a class on Sunday, I went to the dojo to take my frustrations out. I had been coming to this same dojo for half my life so the sensei not only welcomed me in but asked me to work with a few new kids while he ran class for the older students. I actually got into it so much I stayed for three hours, working up quite a sweat.

Needless to say, Mom went crazy when I got home with my gi reeking of my odors. I practically had to beat her off me, giving me a bearhug and kissing me like a girlfriend rather than a mother. I was certain she would try to join me in the shower so I made sure the bathroom door was locked as I took a long, hot shower and scrubbed all over three times. I was very relieved that she had calmed down by the time I finally reappeared in clean clothes. However, this was getting serious.

On Monday I also spent a lot of time at the dojo, mostly helping some younger kids. When I got home I made sure Mom was not around and dashed into the bathroom for a long shower. Once again, she was able to keep herself together over dinner. Afterward I locked myself in my room, doing a lot of long-delayed school work. The school had been very tolerant with me because of our loss, but the work had to get done or my grades would eventually suffer.

The next morning Mom showed me the meals she had prepared for my dinners, with instructions on how to heat it up without ruining it. Then she kissed me -- again, a little too thoroughly -- and got in her car to drive off to her conference.

I had planned for a long day of studying before going off to meet Dr. Faizal, but I got too restless after a few hours. Part of it was wanting to unload on her about Mom and see if she had a solution, but I confess the major part was the hope of having sex with Alice. If that failed, I would have to fall back on Dr. Faizal. Or fall forward on her, I suppose I should say. Not my best option, but I was getting horny from having to avoid Mom’s advances while being cut off from all of the other females in my sex life.

Anyhow, I called Dr. Faizal just before noon. She was happy to have me come over at any time, as she wanted to discuss a research program she had mapped out. I told her I also wanted to discuss a line of research, so it was fine to send an Uber whenever convenient. She said it would be on its way within ten minutes.

Within the hour I was at the office. Clearly eager to discuss her plans (which might well include certain amorous events), Dr. Faizal met me in the lobby. This must have been totally out of character, as the receptionist looked shocked.

I couldn’t very well tell her my concerns about Mom until we were in her office, so as we walked up the stairs I let her happily explain what she wanted to do.

“Obviously,” she began, “the primary goal of my research is to isolate the chemical components of your pheromone, or most probably multiple pheromones. Then we want to be able to either reproduce one or more in a laboratory or utilize trace amounts of your actual pheromones as the active ingredient in a synthetic compound.”

“Woah!” I complained. “How about English? I’m not a scientist, remember?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Sir,” she said. “We need to run more tests on whatever it is you secrete that influences other people. If we can figure out exactly what they are and how they are influencing other peoples’ behaviors, we’ll try to recreate the compounds using chemicals that replicate your natural fluids. If we can’t exactly replicate them, we’ll have to see if we can get enough natural secretions from your body that we can combine those with complementary chemicals so that the end result still has a genuine affect on end users.”

I was greatly relieved, but I wanted to make sure. “So that means you just figure out the, uh, formula and then make all the products you want from that?”

“That would be ideal, yes, Sir,” Dr. Faizal said doubtfully. “However, it’s more likely we would be able to create a formula that would only be effective if we mix a tiny amount of your actual fluids that serve as a catalyst to activate the compound. The latter is what many of the so-called pheromone products on the market are claiming to do with androstenone and androstenol, which I mentioned to you a few weeks ago.”

I frowned and thought about that as we reached the top of the stairwell. To give me a little more time I saved my question until we were seated as usual in her office. “So that means I’d have to keep getting scraped and scratched like last week? I mean, forever?”

When Dr. Faizal had taken her samples, she had used a flat plastic spoon-like thing to collect some of my bodily fluids, which were plentiful from the sexual exercise we had just completed. Most of it came from my armpits, my chest and from all over my groin. That was somewhat embarrassing, but also a little sensual. She carefully put the fluids into glass beakers that had a stopper. Then she gently scraped off some skin flakes from several areas of my body. The instrument was scratchy, although she only wanted surface cells, not actually patches of skin. Then she blushed like a teenager and asked for permission to collect a sperm sample. I wasn’t about to jack off, so I told her to suck me until I was ready to make my deposit into another beaker. She was happy to do it and worked hard to get me off. Even though I hadn’t cum while she was riding me, all that other stuff had been really irritating on my body and mind, so it took a long time. That seemed just fine with her, and I finally enjoyed her efforts so much that I dumped a pretty sizeable load into the beaker, which was shaking in her hand but she still collected a pretty impressive sample. Except for the last part, her taking samples was definitely not a pleasant experience.