Chapter 4

Back to Jim and Frank...

Frank moved into Doc’s house after the inventory was complete. During the inventory, several of Doc’s engineering notebooks were found in the house. William Crowe reviewed the notebooks with Frank’s assistance and the notebooks documenting the research done at Gilmore’s was returned to the company’s lawyer, after Frank made a copy of their contents. Doc’s formula for Chocolateen wasn’t in those notebooks, so Gilmore’s management was not happy.

It was almost two months from the time the inventory was complete before William was able to transfer ownership of Doc’s house from the estate to Frank. In the meantime, Frank and I hung out either at my apartment or at Doc’s house.

Frank and I wanted to continue our relationship as roommates, so I moved in with him after he gained title to the house. It was during that two-month period that I accepted a job at Acme Sales, Inc. That was the start of my troubles with the BDSM ladies.

Acme is a small internet sales firm. The company specializes in the resale of products developed by inventors, typically home garage entrepreneurs. The company operates by locating a marketable product, buying the rights to the product, making a small production run, and advertising it for sale on their website. If the product sells well, they make a large production run and add the product to their inventory.

The office staff consists of a couple of married men, a number of women, and me. The warehouse employees are mostly men, but they do not interact with the office staff. I work in Acquisitions, and my main role at Acme is to locate and do the front work for acquiring new products.

The company is too small for a maintenance department. I was the new guy, so in addition to my main role, I am also the office male. As the office male, I get the tasks that require physical strength and skills that women don’t have or don’t want to display. For example, it’s up to me to shift the women’s desks, tables, and filing cabinets. As the office male, I had to bait and put out the mousetraps when the women saw a mouse in our break area. I also had to empty the trap after the mouse was dead.

Acme had three main departments: Acquisitions, Sales, and Warehouse. Barbara Miller is the Office Manager and responsible to the owners for the company’s day-to-day operations. Under her are three department managers. Dana Rice is the Acquisitions Manager, Sara O’Connor is the Warehouse Manager, and Michelle Keating is the Sales Department Manager.

All four of the ladies are of above average intelligence and have strong, aggressive personalities. Physically, they have well developed bodies, neither skinny nor fat, and pleasant facial features. My overall opinion is they are the stereotype of the girl next door. They seem to lord it over most of the office staff, so I think of them as the BDSM ladies because of their initials and their personalities.

I don’t like my supervisor Dana. I observed her interaction with the inventors and got the impression that she was a man-eating shark. It was her attitude that gave me that impression more than her actions. I get along okay with Barbara and Michelle, but I really like Sara. She has a Rubenesque figure, her personality is compatible to mine, and at five foot five inches, she is four inches shorter than I am. I prefer short women who are just slightly plump and good snuggle bunnies. Barbara, Dana, and Michelle are around my height of five foot nine inches, and all four of them could easily be Victoria Secret models if their makeup and hair were done professionally.

The four of them appear to have a problem with me. I am not blatant about it, but they are attractive women, and I sometimes display my appreciation of their physical assets by watching them as they walk by my desk. That may be why they are uncomfortable with me. However, I suspect the real reason is their positions and aggressive natures do not intimidate me.

My problem with the four women is they seemed threatened by my presence, and in response, they treat me in an extremely demeaning and insulting manner. If they knew that I had access to Chocolateen and if they knew what it did, they may have treated me differently. Yes, I am somewhat vengeful toward people who mistreat me.

After my second month with Acme, I would frequently blow off steam when I got home from work. Frank was very sympathetic toward me and commiserated with me over the problems the BDSM ladies were causing me. One of the habits Frank and I developed during the years we lived together was to fantasize getting the upper hand in various situations. It was sort of an ‘If it were me, I would do such and such’ type of fantasy. I frequently resorted to a modified version of that fantasy to relieve my anger and frustration with the BDSM ladies; but, it was more of a ‘What I would like to do is’ fantasy.

It was three months after I started at Acme, when I learned more about Chocolateen. I left work early one Friday for I was tired of listening to the comments the BDSM ladies were making about me. When I got home, I spouted off to Frank about what I would like to do to them. Frank recently finished reading Doc’s journals and had a better understanding of Chocolateen and its effects. He asked me if I would be interested in making them our live-in fuck toys and controlling them at work and at home.

I was very angry and don’t recall exactly how I answered Frank. I probably said I would like that. He insisted that if I wanted him to, he could provide me with a way to gain control of the four ladies. However, it would be immoral, unethical, and if done wrong, probably illegal. He also let me know that if it worked as he thought it would, he wouldn’t mind having one or two snuggle bunnies of his own to keep him company at night.

Frank and I weren’t drunk. However, we had been drinking, and I let my desire for revenge overcome my better judgment. The next thing I remember, Frank and I were in the basement setting up some of Doc’s equipment. Frank logged into the basement computer and printed out the list of ingredients for making Chocolateen and two copies of the directions for combining them. He gathered a variety of chemicals from the shelves and checked them against the ingredient list. It was close to dinner time, so we went to a local Chinese restaurant for takeout.

When we got back to the house, we ate the takeout we bought, and then we went back down to the basement. Frank lined up a series of beakers and located a pipette, two thermometers, two stirring rods, a scale, and several measuring vials. He checked the list of ingredients and measured out a specific amount of each chemical, poured it into a small beaker, and labeled the beaker with its contents. When he had all of the ingredients measured and in labeled beakers, he moved some of the beakers to what would be my work area. Then he hooked up two Bunsen burners and placed them under two large beakers that were resting on support stands; one set in his work area and one in mine.

When everything was ready, he explained the process to me. It required two people, because the two beakers of chemicals had to be prepared simultaneously. We had to stir the beaker’s contents constantly, and we had to heat the solution to a specific temperature before adding the next chemical. Then the two solutions would be combined and the remaining chemicals added. The cooled mixture would then be filtered to recover the suspended solids, which was the Chocolateen.

Frank gave me a copy of the printed instructions with the sequence for adding the chemicals and the temperatures at which I was to add each chemical. I couldn’t imagine how Doc did this by himself, but he obviously did. Frank organized my chemicals from left to right according to the order in which I was to add them to my beaker. He lit our Bunsen burners and showed me how to adjust the flame to increase or decrease the temperature of the solution.

Frank’s part was more complex than mine was. My part was a challenge to my abilities, since I wasn’t used to working with chemicals and Bunsen burners. Finally, Frank added the contents of my beaker to his, completed the final steps, and set his beaker aside to cool.

While waiting for the solution to cool, we drank a couple of beers and cleaned up our mess. When we put the equipment away, we discovered several electrical devices mounted to stands that used paddles to stir the contents of a beaker. The paddles had built in thermocouples for measuring the temperature of the contents. That is how Doc made Chocolateen by himself.

After the solution cooled to room temperature, Frank filtered out the solids that precipitated out of the solution. He measured a small amount of the solids into a mortar and set the rest of the solids aside to dry in a covered petri dish, which he later stored in a cool dark place. He then measured and added ethanol to the mortar and used a pestle to mix the two substances. After about twenty minutes of mixing, Frank filtered the solution to remove any suspended solids that remained after dissolving the Chocolateen in the ethanol. He poured the liquefied Chocolateen into several small bottles equipped with eyedroppers and set them aside. By the time we finished it was very late, so we cleaned the remaining equipment, put everything away, and went to bed without discussing how to use the Chocolateen.

Saturday morning we ate breakfast and talked about how I could use Chocolateen to control the BDSM ladies. Frank explained some of what he learned from Doc’s journals. Three drops of the liquefied Chocolateen a day for a week would be enough to cause someone to become addicted. Ingesting additional Chocolateen per day accelerates and deepens the addiction without the danger of an overdose harming its consumer.

There are two alternatives for ending a Chocolateen addiction. The first alternative is to abstain from further consumption of Chocolateen. The withdrawal side effects are similar to heroin withdrawal symptoms. The second alternative is to gradually reduce the amount ingested per day. The side effects are slight nausea and mild headaches.

I am not sure why, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to pursue the use of Chocolateen on the BDSM ladies. Perhaps it was because I was stone-cold sober and its use wasn’t fully tested. To me, using it on the ladies seemed legally and physically dangerous as well as unethical. However, I was also extremely upset with the ladies for their unethical treatment of me.

Frank suggested that I take some time and think about it. If I decided to go ahead, then I should bake some chocolate chip cookies and put three drops of Chocolateen at the bottom center of each cookie. He also told me to save out a half dozen cookies and put a knife crease across the tops of the undoctored cookies while they were still warm, so I could recognize them.

According to his plan, I was to put the cookies in a large plastic container, and using a permanent black marker, write on the top of the container:

Chocolateen Cookies

Highly Addictive

Do Not Eat

When I got into work, I was to place the container on my desk and periodically remove and eat an undoctored cookie with my coffee. I would also need to be away from my desk frequently to give the BDSM ladies access to the cookies.

The BDSM ladies were well known in the office for helping themselves to their coworkers’ munchies without asking. Frank’s plan would work exactly as he thought it would. However, I worried that some of my other coworkers might eat some of the cookies. Frank said that if they took one or two cookies without asking, it wouldn’t bother them. But if they did it daily, they deserved what they got. It took a week of constant consumption to become addicted at the dosage they would be getting from a single cookie a day. He gave me a bottle of Chocolateen to use if I changed my mind and let me know that I should help myself to more if I needed it.

Monday started out okay for me at the office, but the BDSM ladies were in a foul mood. Their verbal harassment started at lunchtime with their comments getting nastier as the day progressed. Their methodology was to make disparaging comments about me in loud voices, but they did not name me. This was their usual method and made it difficult to file a successful complaint against them.

I was very angry by the end of the day. I stopped at a grocery store on the way home and bought a clear plastic container with a lid and the makings for chocolate chip cookies. I’m not a sweets eater so as the cookies I baked cooled, I marked four cookies with a knife crease across the top and placed them in the container. Frank and I doctored the remaining cookies with Chocolateen and left them to dry. Frank just smiled at what we had planned for the ladies.

I think my ethics changed a little since I learned about Chocolateen. Nerds and geeks, like Frank and I, are not treated with respect by our fellowman. The power Chocolateen gave Frank and me over other people was heady stuff to us. Considering our personalities, others would think it scary. It was like giving a six year old a hand grenade to play with.

Tuesday morning I placed the doctored and undoctored cookies in the container and put the lid securely in place on the container. I wrote the message Frank suggested across the lid with a permanent marker. When I got into the office, I placed the container on the corner of my desk and went to get a cup of coffee. When I got back, the container was not where I placed it.

When I opened it to get a cookie, I saw some of the doctored cookies were missing. I closed the container and put it back on my desk. I then sat at my desk smiling, while I ate my cookie and drank my coffee. When I finished the cookie, I started working on my current task. I took more bathroom breaks than normal, and the container was empty by the end of the day.

Sandy is an attractive young woman who sits at the desk next to me. She sometimes talks with me about her personal life, especially the problems she has finding a decent boyfriend. If I wasn’t as clueless as I was, I would have realized that it was her way of telling me she would like to go out with me. It was close to the end of the day, and I could tell Sandy wanted to talk to me.

“Well, we’re almost done for the day,” I said. “You got any plans for tonight, Sandy?”

“Nope, all I have planned for the evening is dinner in front of the TV.”

She paused for a few moments and then continued, “I don’t want you to think I’m a snitch, Jim. However, I noticed the Managers helping themselves to your cookies when you were away from your desk.”

‘Managers’ is the nickname my coworkers used to refer to the BDSM ladies.

“I’m not surprised, and don’t worry about it. I just hope our coworkers didn’t help themselves also.”

I must have had a smirk on my face for she gave me a funny, somewhat quizzical look. I could tell this social klutz had put his foot in his mouth.

Hoping to extract said foot, I said, “Ah, Sandy, have you heard of ex-lax cookies?”

Her eyes got large, and she looked around to see who was in the area. Well now, I had both feet in my mouth.

“Look, there is no ex-lax in the cookies. They will not harm anyone. However, the Managers will regret eating them by the end of next week.”

Frank and I had decided on two weeks of cookies to ensure they were well and truly addicted.

Sandy seemed okay with what I said, but still had that quizzical look on her face. I guess I managed to extract at least one foot.

I made and brought in at least a dozen cookies a day for the remainder of the week and during the following week. After Monday, I continued to doctor all but four of the cookies I brought in to the office. They were always gone by the end of the day. I think Sandy spread the word about not eating my cookies for no one asked if they could have one, which would have been normal behavior in the office. I also noticed a few odd looks at the container when a coworker was near my desk.

The Monday after the second week, I arrived at work with four doctored cookies in a paper bag that I locked in my desk. The BDSM ladies walked by my desk several times with distressed looks on their faces. After lunch, the looks of distress became looks of desperation and nausea.

I retrieved my paper bag, went by the BDSM ladies’ offices and convinced them to meet me in the conference room. After they arrived and sat down, I began, “Ladies, it appears to me that the four of you are experiencing a slight case of nausea. Is that true?”

Barbara replied for the four of them, “Yeah, but what is it to you?”

I removed my four cookies from the bag and placed them on the table in front of me and said, “These four cookies are like those you ate during the past two weeks. Yes, they are physically addictive. I believe the four of you are in the early stages of Chocolateen withdrawal. The chills, vomiting, hallucinations, and other symptoms haven’t started, but these cookies should temporarily settle your stomachs.”

I distributed the cookies and as they ate them, I gave them my address and phone number, then told them to be at my house at 7:00 that evening, or they would get no more cookies from me.

I walked out of the conference room and called Frank to let him know about our meeting with the BDSM ladies. The ladies gave me dirty looks and talked with each other for the rest of the day. It looked like they were feeling a bit better by mid-afternoon. I left work early to meet Frank at our pizza place, as we needed to finalize our plan. We talked over pizza and beer about the plan we developed and decided to go with it with one minor change.

In developing the plan, Frank and I had role-played their possible reactions. For each part of the plan, we anticipated potential responses and scripted our replies. I was to start out as the complaining victim. Frank would jump in toward the end as the hardass that shoved our requirements down their throats.”

When we finished our discussion of the plan, I said, “That sounds okay, Frank, but there is one thing bothering me. If everything goes as we think it will, then fine. However, we could be in a lot of trouble if they go to the cops.”