Chapter 8

The next day at school Ingrid confronted me. Well, I guess you’d call it that. She had on a very nice dress, one that actually showed her long, shapely legs, and a short-sleeved blouse that was buttoned up all the way, but nevertheless showed off her bombshell bosom.

“Mark, could you please stay after class? I wanted to discuss your progress on that career assignment.”

That was obviously fake, since she knew I hadn’t done any work on that. But I said, “Sure, Ms. Stein.”

As soon as the other kids left she locked the door and whirled around to face me. “Why have you been ignoring me?” she demanded.

I was pretty surprised. “Ingrid, I haven’t been ignoring you,” I protested.

“It’s been a week since our -- our meeting. I dressed up nicely as you asked, I was very polite to you in class to the point where I’m sure the other students noticed.” Her voice got a little whiny. “But you haven’t asked to meet with me again. Didn’t you enjoy our afternoon?” she pleaded.

What had gotten into this cool, aloof woman? I blinked rapidly, trying to think of what to say. “Ingrid, you know I loved our ... meeting. But you also know things have been very difficult at home for the past few weeks. I’d love to meet with you again sometime.”

Her face brightened up. “How about this afternoon?”

“Oh, I can’t today. I’ve got to work.”

She blinked in surprise. Then she looked suspicious. “You got a job?”

“Well, sort of,” I admitted. “I’m going to Mom’s workplace a couple of days a week to --” It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I didn’t really want to tell her the real reason. “Well, you know, to help with paperwork, help the research people with the stuff in their lab, that kind of thing.”

“Ah, of course,” she said sympathetically. “I understand you probably need a little extra money now that, uh, now that you only have one income in the family. That’s very thoughtful of you to help out like that, Mark.” She reached out to stroke my arm.

I shrugged my shoulders non-committally. It was sort of like that, so I let her think she totally understood.

“Yeah. Anyhow, I could do it tomorrow, if you want.”

“YES!” She instantly got hold of herself. “I mean, tomorrow would be perfect. Right after school like last time?”

“Sounds good,” I assured her with a big smile. Her face was positively radiant as I left the room.

I was so deep in my thoughts during the rest of my classes that I can’t remember what happened.

I could now understand why Ingrid had violated her attitude toward high school boys in my favor: She obviously had a strong sense of smell or that thing in the nose that picked up on my pheromones. But her behavior today had been far beyond what I thought of as a simple sexual attraction. It was more like she was falling in love with me, or maybe more like she was a junkie getting hooked on some drug. She had acted so needy, so desperate, that I really felt sorry for her.

Was there some way I could let her down gently? Did I even want to do that? I don’t know. I decided to discuss it with Dr. Faizal when I met with her after school.

Before I left her office the first time, we had agreed on two visits per week during the initial investigation. One of the things she intended to do today was take some body samples, mostly liquids, but also some tissue samples from various body parts. She had assured me that would mean either swabs or a very light scraping that would not hurt, but I was still a little nervous about the process.

Once again, she had an Uber waiting for me at school. I was still so preoccupied I think I forgot to lock my bike up.

When I got to her office, her secretary waved me in without a word. Dr. Faizal was sitting behind her desk in her large, plush captain’s chair doodling on a notepad. Assuming it would be like last time, I went to the chair opposite. It was also nicely padded, but didn’t have any arms.

It suddenly occurred to me that the chair was much closer to the desk this time. Much more surprising was that, when I looked over at her, Dr. Faizal was not wearing that mask. And her clothing was much lighter this time, almost like she was trying to show off her body.

She looked depressed and a little tired, like she had been crying. I was trying to figure out a polite way of asking her how she was when she spoke first.

“I think I’ve been infected,” Dr. Faizal said so quietly that I could barely hear her.

“Oh, my god!” I said. “It must be some terrible virus to affect you like this.”

She looked up at me, took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and shook her body violently. “No. Not a virus. I’ve been infected by you.”

I’m sure my jaw sagged. “Wha ... what do you mean by that?”

She visibly pulled herself together, then looked up at me. “After you left yesterday, I removed my mask. I felt ... something. Then I tried to get my outer garments off quickly. But the more I touched, the worse it got.” She smiled wanly. “I couldn’t help myself. I picked up the mask and sniffed it. I must have been contaminated from residual air particles apparently trapped in the outer folds of the mask, which I first smelled and then touched.”

I just gaped at her, dumbfounded.

“It was an amateur mistake,” Dr. Faizal admitted. “I didn’t take the basic precautions of a highly infectious disease because, well, I didn’t think of it as such. I should have gone to a clean room, removed everything with sterilized clamps, and disposed of them properly. Instead I simply took them off and meant to put them aside.”

She sighed heavily and put her head in her hands.

When I could take the silence no longer, I asked: “Okay. So then what happened?”

“I couldn’t help myself. I picked up the mask and sniffed it. I sniffed it again and again, more deeply each time. Then I started licking it.” She hung her head in shame.

I was both sorry for her and yet incredibly excited. “Go on.”

Dr. Faizal sighed and lifted her head. “There are two basic types of pheromones,” she continued. “Releaser pheromones cause an alteration in the behavior of the receiver; some use such powerful attractant molecules that they can attract mates from a distance of two miles or more. In general, this type of pheromone elicits a rapid response, but is quickly degraded. In contrast, a primer pheromone has a slower onset and a longer duration. They trigger a change of developmental events rather than causing a direct behavior change. For example, they can affect a female’s menstrual cycle, puberty, and pregnancy.”

“Wow. That’s pretty heavy stuff,” I agreed. “So, you think I have these, uh, releaser pheromones that cause pretty quick reactions?”

“I’m beginning to think you may have both.”

“Both! Wow! Is that common?”

Dr. Faizal took a deep breath. Her hand started shaking a little bit, and her body seemed to vibrate very slightly.

“It’s certainly not unheard of. For example, the honeybee queen mandibular pheromone elicits multiple distinct behavioral and physiological responses in worker bees, as both a releaser and primer, and thus produces responses on vastly different functional and time scales.” She gave a wry grimace. “Maybe you’re the human male version of a honeybee queen.”

Snap! So that’s what had happened to Ingrid. And probably Angelica and Marie, and I guess to Kim to a lesser extent. But I wondered why these powerful reactions had only started in the past couple of years rather than when I was in elementary school. So I asked Dr. Faizal that exact question.

She nodded with a little more of her usual professional excitement. “I believe I mentioned axillary steroids to you in our previous meeting?”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “Uh, you may have, but I don’t remember.”

“No matter,” Dr. Faizal assured me. “It was the fact that they might be directly related to sexual selection. Axillary steroids are produced by the testes, ovaries, apocrine glands, and adrenal glands. However, these chemicals are not biologically active until puberty when sex steroids influence their activity. The change in activity during puberty suggests that humans may be more sexually impacted by odors than most scientists believe. To that end, several axillary steroids have been researched as possible human pheromones: androstadienol, androstadienone, androstenol, androstenone, and androsterone. It’s quite possible that, before you entered puberty those particular steroids either weren’t present or only in miniscule amounts. Thus, females were attracted to you, but not so strongly that you were highly sexually desirable. Since then, of course, the amounts in your body have increased to the point where that impulse has become very strong in many women, and overpowering in a few others.”

“Oh.” I scratched my head. “So, if it’s so overpowering in highly susceptible women, as you’ve said you are, why haven’t you tried to jump my bones?”

Dr. Faizal gave a little laugh. “You might be interested to learn that pigs are extremely intelligent animals. Yet they are also among the set of mammals that have a very high sensitivity to pheromones. When a wild boar breaths out his phereomones, most females, most especially when they are in heat, will immediately turn and present themselves for breeding.”

“And your point is?”

Dr. Faizal nodded. “As intelligent as pigs may be, they are still nothing compared with a human. With no modesty intended, I am a very intelligent human. As we discussed, society has created behavioral barriers, taboos, and even laws that help to reinforce the strength of mind that many people possess to help their brain overcome their physical desires. There are restrictions of age or relationship, both of which are present in this case.”

“But you said you had been ‘infected’. So how is it --”

“Only through incredible willpower,” she said forcefully. “That first time we met, I had the strength to turn right around and get away. The second time I wore a mask and clothing that pretty effectively protected me from your influence. But right after that -- well, I’ve already told you what happened.” Her tone became sad again. “Because I am so susceptible, I know I am now lost. If I were permitted, I would turn around right now and present to you.”

Double zap! Mom worked in this company for one of the same reasons as Dr. Faizal. She was probably nearly as impacted by my pheromones. And yet she had lived with me all these years -- smelling me, touching me -- and managed to restrain herself. I was nearly overwhelmed by how strong her willpower and love must be.

“So you’re saying, what, you want me to fuck you?”

She hung her head in shame. “Of course not. I know I must look old and not very attractive to you.” She lifted her head up enough to peek at me. “But, if you could ... well, please allow me to give you fellatio. Would that be alright with you?”

In a way, Dr. Faizal was right. She was nearly three times my age, and she was not terribly attractive. Yet the thought of this brilliant, self-sufficient woman pleading with me to allow her to suck me off was a heady experience in my life. Such thoughts in themselves can be very powerful aphrodisiacs, especially to a teenaged male such as myself. Suddenly, I wanted that sort of power over her. At the time I did not think about how cruel my actions might seem.

“Stand up,” I commanded.

She immediately stood up, but made not another move. Obviously she was waiting for another command from me.

“Take off your clothes.”

Without any sort of attempt at sexiness she began to disrobe, carefully folding her clothing and laying it on her desk. She even took off her large, ugly glasses and put them on top of her blouse. When she was nude, she turned to face me, her hands hanging limply by her sides.

She looked quite tiny when naked. Her face was rather plain, although she had delicate features and huge, luminous eyes. She had a soft looking, slender body with small but thin, pointy tits. Her dusky complexion, like milk chocolate, was complemented by jet-black medium length hair. Her bush was quite thick and curly, obviously having never been tended to in her life. All in all, I thought she looked a hell of a lot more enticing than when she was doing her academic act.

I sat back down on the chair. “Come over here and kneel at my feet.”

Once again she did exactly as ordered, her hands on her thighs and her lustrous eyes glowing up at me with undisguised lust. She was less than a foot from me. I unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants and underwear down to expose my soft penis. Her eyes widened ever farther, but she didn’t move. I decided to see if my scent would excite her even more, which might get me more excited.

“Take a deep breath.”

She did, and seconds later she gave a tremendous shudder. She started to lick her lips. I felt the first beginnings of a stirring.

“Take another deep breath.”

She closed her eyes from the agony I was evidently causing her. However, she immediately did as ordered. This time her upper body started vibrating with her need. I got even harder.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

It was her begging that did the trick. “Alright. Suck me off. But don’t use your hands.”

With her hands still on her thighs, Dr. Faizal immediately leaned forward and tried to suck my entire cock into her mouth. She failed, but she struggled courageously to absorb every single centimeter. It was so sloppy and lacking in technique that I wondered if this could possibly be her first blowjob. I made a mental note to ask her.

What she lacked in expertise she more than made up for in enthusiasm. She sucked and slobbered over my throbbing tool like a child experiencing the first and most delicious lollypop in her entire life.

On top of her previous ‘infection’, I had ordered her to breath deeply of her addiction, solely because I selfishly wanted to test my newly discovered powers over certain women. As Dr. Faizal was an admitted perfect subject, but not someone whom I cared about in a personal way, I was happy to use her as a test subject. It was only later that the irony of us using each other in the exact same way occurred to me. For right now, it was all about exercising my powers of control.

There seemed to be a strange balance between not having much physical attraction to this woman, yet being totally invested in the dominance that this much older and vastly more educated person had bestowed on me. While physically her efforts were not in any way comparable to what other women had given me, psychologically it was incredibly stimulating. At last I felt the approach of my release.