My friends call me Jim, but my full name is James Schneider with no middle name. Some people, mainly women, think I'm a woman hater because I enslave women. That is not exactly true. They don't know why my women submitted themselves to me.
I am 24 years of age, and my weight has varied between 180 and 190 lbs since I graduated from high school. At 5' 9" tall and with a slight build, that places me on the chubby side of athletic. My short black hair, brown eyes, acne, and personality don't add much to me being attractive to women. In fact, most people consider me an unappealing nerd. I can thank my best friend Frank Toliver for the women in my life. He was the one who introduced me to Chocolateen.
Doctor William E. Smith, a Doctor of Organic Chemistry, created Chocolateen in his home's basement laboratory. Doctor Smith (Doc to his associates and friends) worked as a research chemist for Gilmore's Specialty Chocolates. Gilmore's specializes in developing unique chocolate products.
The chocolate industry wanted to create an affordable, low-calorie chocolate that had the taste, consistency, and after-taste of regular chocolate. Five years before I learned of Chocolateen, Gilmore's started their research program to create that product. Two years later, they had made no significant progress on reaching their goal. Doc suggested a different approach to the problem. Gilmore's did not believe Doc's approach to be a viable means of attaining the goal. Their refusal to follow that line of research allowed Doc to pursue his idea as a privately funded research program.
Two years of research in his basement during evenings and weekends resulted in a product that inhibited the uptake of digested sugars in lab animals. Adding the product to an animal's food resulted in the animal only absorbing about 35% of the digested sugars. Doc named the product Chocolateen, because he planned to license its use to Gilmore's. The small animal testing that Doc conducted in his basement indicated that Chocolateen was harmless, even in high concentrations over a long period.
Doc and his lawyer, Kirk Jonas, approached Gilmore's and worked out a contractual agreement. The company would finance and support the testing necessary for obtaining FDA approval for Chocolateen. When Doc received FDA approval, he would grant Gilmore's an exclusive 20-year license to use the product in the manufacture of chocolate candies. Gilmore's would pay Doc a license fee of one million dollars per year. During the lease period, Doc would sell Chocolateen to Gilmore's. The agreement did not prohibit Doc from using Chocolateen for other purposes.
Gilmore's could conceivably gross an additional $30 million per year, or more, by using Chocolateen in their chocolate products. One might wonder about Doc's willingness to settle for just $1 million per year. The answer is that Doc was a smart businessman who needed assistance in obtaining FDA approval for Chocolateen. Doc believed that after gaining FDA approval, he could market Chocolateen in other commercial fields and make close to $1 billion a year.
Gilmore's had employed Doc for 18 years, and his coworkers considered him a crotchety old man who had peculiar habits. One of his peculiarities was to keep all of his research notes in an engineering notebook. He carried it with him all the time while at work, and he took it home with him at night.
Doc's poor personality and people skills made it difficult for him to keep lab assistants. However, my friend Frank Toliver had worked as his assistant for over a year. Frank is pursuing his Master's Degree in Organic Chemistry, so this job gave him some practical experience in addition to a paycheck. I suspect Doc's personality and background were similar to Frank's, and Doc viewed himself as Frank's mentor.
Frank and I met in college three months after his parents died in a car crash. We became best friends and roommates. We continued our relationship as roommates after I graduated. Other than Doc, I was Frank's only close friend. When I met him, he was 6'1", skinny, and clumsy. While not handsome, he had that aura that many women find appealing. Unfortunately, his personality was a turn-off for most women. Most people considered me a nerd and Frank a science geek. Furthermore, each of us only had a few casual friends.
Frank's friendship with Doc began shortly after he went to work for Gilmore's as Doc's lab assistant. Doc and Frank both loved video games and would compete against each other at Doc's house. Frank introduced me to Doc once, when he dropped something off at Doc's house. Judging from his reaction, I don't think Doc liked me, but Frank said Doc was like that all the time when meeting new people.
Frank and I often talked about our day after work, and he occasionally mentioned the work he was doing on Chocolateen. One day, Frank told me he and Doc reached a major milestone in their research project. They successfully completed Chocolateen's small animal stage of FDA testing. Doc reported the results to his management, and they would soon start the human testing phase of the FDA approval process.
During the first round of human tests, three side effects showed up: Chocolateen had a bitter after taste, it stimulated a person's libido, and it was addictive with nasty withdrawal symptoms. Doc solved the after taste problem. Gilmore's marketing group believed the stimulated libido was a positive trait, and upper management believed it would be would be acceptable to the FDA. The only problem left to resolve was the addictive characteristic of Chocolateen. That was the state of Doc's research when he died.
I lost my job two weeks before Doc died. It was late Sunday afternoon and I was involved in my job search activities, when Frank arrived at our apartment.
He started the story of his day with, "Jim, Doc is dead."
I was dumbfounded, and the only thing I could mumble was, "Dead. What happened?" I sensed that my roommate needed to say more, so I listened to his story while we drank several beers.
Frank told me about Doc's death, "I was over at Doc's place playing Call of Duty. Doc was sitting in his recliner talking with me when I saw his face contort with pain, and his hands dropped into his lap. I took the controller out of his hands and asked him what was wrong."
Doc gasped, "Heart attack."
This was the first time Doc had an attack when I was with him, "Relax Doc. I'll call 9-1-1, and they'll take care of you."
"No, not this time," Doc said. "This is a major attack. Doctor said my heart was almost gone. Doubted I'd survive a severe attack. I'm not going to make it this time Frank."
"I didn't pay any attention to him", Frank explained, "and called 9-1-1."
Frank paused and then continued, "While waiting for the paramedics to arrive, Doc wouldn't stop talking with me."
I could see tears on Frank's cheeks as he talked, "I felt useless Jim. Doc was dying. I wanted to help him, but there was nothing I could do."
Frank told me that Doc needed to say something. However, his mind was wandering, and his comments were incomplete and fragmented so badly it was difficult to understand his meaning. In addition, the longer he talked the weaker his voice became.
"Frank, you're the son I never had. Relatives dead. Don't know where they are. Don't care. Wealthy man. To hell with state. Talk to Kirk. Kirk Jonas has key for you. Journals yours. Read 'em. Explain research."
"Relax Doc. Just hold on, the paramedics are coming."
Frank looked at me and said, "Doc's voice was just a gasping whisper, but he wouldn't stop talking."
"No. Not last. Must understand. Chocolateen valuable. Talk with Kirk. Read journals. Chocolateen in journals. On basement computer. Don't talk Chocolateen to anyone. Read journal."
I could see the tears running down Frank's cheeks as he said, "Doc couldn't get his breath ... I held his hand, and told him I understood and how much he meant to me. His hand went limp, and he stopped breathing. I knew he had died as I talked to him. There was nothing I could do, and I couldn't stop myself. I just kept talking to him."
By early evening, Frank and I were three sheets to the wind. Since neither of us was fit to drive, we ordered in some pizza. As we ate our pizza, Frank finished telling me about his day.
Frank sat in the chair holding his Doc's hand, while he waited for the paramedics. A paramedic unit arrived followed closely by a police cruiser. Frank took the paramedics to the living room where Doc sat in his recliner.
They confirmed that Doc was dead. The first group of police officers entered the house while the paramedics were checking Doc. The officers asked Frank to wait on the front porch, while the police and paramedics did their thing. While sitting on a porch chair, Frank saw the paramedics leave and a second group of officers arrive.
Twenty minutes later, the coroner's vehicle arrived. The police ushered the coroner into the house. While the coroner was processing Doc's body, two officers joined Frank on the porch to question him. The other officers remained in the house doing their thing.
Frank described the morning's events up until he had been asked to wait on the porch. After Frank answered a few questions, the police went back inside. Five minutes later a different officer asked him to go over his statement again, so he did. A short while later, the coroner left with Doc's body.
Frank didn't know about it, but while waiting for the coroner, the police were going through the papers on Doc's desk. They found an 'In Case of My Death' letter. The letter directed the authorities to contact his lawyer and provided the lawyer's name, address, and phone numbers. The lawyer arrived 10 minutes after the coroner left with Doc's body.
When Doc's lawyer Kirk Jonas arrived, the police briefed him on what they knew about Doc's death. They indicated that there were no observable signs of foul play. They also said they would have to wait for the coroner's report to be certain, but it appeared to them that Doc died of natural causes. When told about Frank's statement, Kirk took note of Frank's name. While the police finished processing the scene, Kirk went out to the porch.
"Mr. Toliver, I'm Mr. Smith's lawyer Kirk Jonas. I'm sorry we have to meet this way, but I need to speak with you if you feel up to it right now."
"What do you need to know Mr. Jonas?"
"Well to start with call me Kirk. Mr. Smith hired me to represent your legal interests after his death."
That surprised Frank, "It's Frank and what do you mean by represent my legal interests?"
"Well, I prepared a Living Trust for Mr. Smith and in it he named you as his sole beneficiary. The estate is rather large and complex, so Doc felt that you might need legal advice."
The police came out to let Kirk know they would be finished in about 15 minutes and told Frank that he could go home. When the police went back inside, Kirk gave Frank his business card.
"This is a poor time and place to discuss everything. Can you come by my office at 9:00 tomorrow morning?" Frank agreed and left to go home.
When Frank finished telling me about his day, he asked me to go to Kirk's office with him. Frank wanting me to go with him wasn't an unusual request for we supported each other. Frank and I were more than best friends; we considered ourselves as close brothers. We shared everything except our lady friends, when we had them. What I owned was Frank's, and what Frank owned was mine. Although, we did give each other the courtesy of asking to use each other's belongings. The only reason we didn't share our girlfriends was they made it clear that they weren't into group sex or swapping. However, more than one 1-night stand with a very intoxicated young lady evolved into a ménage à trois.
We had one hell of a hangover Monday morning from the beer we drank while Frank told me about Doc's death. We drank lots of coffee and ate breakfast to settle our stomachs; aspirin helped our hangovers. Frank called Kirk's office to confirm his 9:00 AM appointment, and he called Gilmore's to let them know he would be late due to personal business. The department secretary took the message, and said she would take care of it. Frank was off in his own world mourning Doc. He didn't think of it at the time, but no one at the office knew Doc was dead.
We arrived at Kirk Jonas' office, and Kirk impressed me favorably. He appeared to be in his mid-40s, average height and build, red hair, and blue eyes. He had a pleasant manner, a firm handshake, and he spoke with a smooth, low-pitched tone. Based on Frank's earlier description, Kirk seemed to be an easygoing person.
"I'm sorry about you losing your friend Mr. Toliver, er ah Frank. Doc and I were friends also, so I think I know what you are feeling."
"I recently prepared a Living Trust for Doc. The Trust names you as Doc's sole beneficiary. That means you will inherit his entire estate, assuming the Trust is not successfully challenged.
"Doc told me all of his immediate relatives predeceased him. He thought he may still have some distant relatives still alive, but he doesn't know who they are. If by some chance one of those people were to learn of his death, he did not want them to receive any portion of his estate. He had me prepare the Trust disinheriting everyone not specifically identified in the Trust as one of his beneficiaries."
"At this time Frank, it appears that you are the sole beneficiary of his estate."
Frank and I exchanged quizzical looks with each other and Frank asked, "Exactly what does that mean Mr. Jonas?"
"It's Kirk, and what it means is that as the sole beneficiary, you will inherit the entire estate. I estimate the estate will amount to around $35 million after the estate taxes are paid."
Frank and I were both stunned for neither of us suspected that Doc was that wealthy. Kirk did not list all of the estate's assets, but he did tell Frank that he would inherit Doc's house and patents. He told Frank that the revenue on the patents earned Doc over $2 million a year.
"Ah Kirk," Frank said, "what is Gilmore's involvement in Chocolateen, and what rights do they have to it?"
"Well, I wrote the contract that led to Gilmore's involvement with Chocolateen. Gilmore's has no rights to Chocolateen. The contract only gives Gilmore's a license to use Chocolateen after it is approved by the FDA.
"The contract does not require you to provide the formula to Gilmore's. Without the formula, Gilmore's chemists cannot modify it and obtain FDA approval. Thus for all practical purposes, the contract is void. However, I will take follow-up action to formally terminate the contract."
Kirk went on to explain that according to the terms of the Living Trust, Kirk could begin the transfer of the estate's assets to Frank immediately. However, due to the size and complexity of the estate and the applicable laws, it may require more than a year to transfer all of the assets to Frank. Kirk would identify and pay Doc's creditors, inventory the estate assets, assess the value of the estate, and pay Doc's income taxes. Kirk could then file the Estate Tax forms needed to pay the estate taxes. When that was complete, Kirk would transfer the remainder of the estate to Frank.
Kirk said he would place a notice of Doc's death in the local paper to provide notice to potential relatives and to his creditors. He would pay any debts and explain to any relative that came forward that they were excluded from inheriting any portion of the estate. After inventorying the assets in Doc's home and determining their assessed value, he would turn those assets over to Frank.
The transfer of the house's title may take a couple of months to complete, so Doc's home and other property needed a caretaker. Kirk asked Frank to be the caretaker. There were two limitations. Frank could not occupy the house until after the inventory was complete, and no one could live there but Frank until the house was in Frank's name. Frank accepted Kirk's offer, and Kirk indicated the inventory would be complete around the end of the month.
Kirk and Frank discussed Doc's bank accounts and other liquid assets. They agreed to set up a checking account for Frank containing $50,000, and Kirk would use the remainder of the assets for paying bills and the estate taxes.
Before we left Kirk's office, Kirk gave Frank the envelop Doc left for him and told him to call if he had any problems.
Since it was after 12:30, we stopped at a Denny's to eat lunch, talk about Kirk, and about what Kirk told us.
After putting in our order, Frank said, "Well, what do you think of Kirk?"
It took me a few moments to answer, "I was impressed and think he will treat you right. Are you going to have him represent you?"
"Yeah, I think so. I'm not sure I need a lawyer, but Doc was smart about things like that. I guess I'll talk with him later."
Our meal was pretty much what you would expect at a Denny's. Afterwards, Frank went to work, and I returned to our apartment to continue my job search effort.
Frank showed up at our apartment late that afternoon and took me out for pizza and beer. I think we live on pizza and beer, and it went well with the story of Frank's afternoon.
Frank hadn't thought about it until he got to work and checked in with the department secretary, but no one at Gilmore's knew that Doc was dead. Frank explained to the secretary about Doc dying Sunday morning. She told Frank to wait and went to inform Doc's boss, Jonathon Caruthers, that Doc was dead. The secretary returned and directed Frank to Caruthers' office for he wanted to talk with Frank.
Frank told me he wasn't sure why, but when he entered Caruthers' office, he could tell from Caruthers' face that he was angry. Caruthers made it clear that Frank should have informed the company earlier about Doc's death. He also wanted to know what happened to Doc and where his notebook was.
Frank apologized for not letting the secretary know about Doc when he called in that morning, and he explained the circumstances of Doc's heart attack.
Caruthers got angry at Frank's failure to mention the notebook. Frank thought he was more upset about not having the notebook than he was about Doc's death. Frank said that it seemed odd to him that no one at Gilmore's had noticed that Doc did not come in to work that day.
Caruthers repeated his question about the notebook's location, and Frank said he did not know its whereabouts. He told Caruthers that it was probably at Doc's house, but he wasn't certain.
Hoping to appease Caruthers, Frank told him that while he had been at Doc's house, he met Doc's lawyer Kirk Jonas and suggested that Caruthers ask Kirk about the notebook. When asked about why he should ask Kirk, Frank said that Kirk was the administrator of Doc's estate and responsible for Doc's house and property.
Frank gave Kirk's business card to Caruthers. Caruthers called Kirk, explained who he was, and that he wanted to search Doc's house for the notebook. Kirk refused to give Caruthers permission to enter the house. Caruthers got into a dispute with Kirk over searching the house. Kirk told him that he would have his staff inventory Doc's house, and the company could submit a claim for any company property found. Kirk ended the call by telling Caruthers to stay away from Doc's house.
Kirk's failure to give Caruthers access to the house caused him to be frustrated and angry. He wanted what he wanted, and he wanted it now. There was no reasoning with his anger, and for some reason, he held Frank responsible for the entire situation.
Their conversation went downhill with Caruthers accusing Frank of being disloyal and hiding company assets. Frank replied with a few caustic comments about Caruthers' attitude. Caruthers was so irate about the comments and about not having the notebook that he lost his temper and fired Frank. Frank said fine and headed to the lab to get his personal belongings.
Since Doc had not come in to work, his lab was locked. Frank did not have a key, and Caruthers refused to allow Frank access to the lab. After a short verbal dispute, Caruthers called security, and they escorted Frank out of the building.
Frank told me that he called Kirk who told Frank to remain at his car until he arrived at the company; which would take about 45 minutes. Kirk called the company's legal department, and a company lawyer, Mrs. Brenda Miller, agreed to meet with them in an hour.
Unknown to Frank, there was a great deal of animosity between Doc and the Company's senior management. In his youth, Doc worked for Westwood Confections and had a reputation for developing creative solutions to difficult problems.
The now deceased owner of Gilmore's Specialty Chocolates, Mr. Gilmore, wanted Doc to come to work for Gilmore's. Doc's employment contract with Westwood did not allow Doc to patent processes that he developed privately. Everything he developed privately belonged to his employer. Westwood would give him a small monetary award for his idea, and the company got the patent rights.
Doc wanted to change employers, but refused to work for another company that wanted to profit from his private research efforts. Mr. Gilmore negotiated an agreement with Doc that allowed Doc to patent any of his private research. He could patent the research results as long as: 1) the company was not pursuing that line of research, 2) he did not perform the development on company time, and 3) he did not use company assets.
During the years that Doc worked at Gilmore's, his private research led to many patentable ideas. Gilmore's patented the ideas developed by the other research chemists, so the current managers felt wrongly that Doc's patents should belong to the company. They resented the fact that they had to pay royalties to Doc to use the results of his research.
Kirk met Frank at his car and briefly explained what he believed was happening between Frank and Gilmore's management. He asked Frank what he wanted him to do. Frank said he was done with the company as an employer and just wanted to get his personal belongings out of Doc's lab. Kirk told Frank to just smile and let him do all of the talking.
They entered Gilmore's lobby and spoke to the receptionist, a busty young brunette sporting a name tag that said Amy.
"Amy, my name is Kirk Jonas, and we are here to meet with Mrs. Brenda Miller. Would you let her know that we are here?"
A few minutes later, the receptionist pointed us out to an overweight, middle-aged woman, "Good afternoon Mr. Jonas, I am Brenda Miller. What is it that I can do for you today?"
"Please call me Kirk, and this is my client Mr. Frank Toliver."
"According to Mr. Toliver, a Mr. Jonathon Caruthers fired him this afternoon without cause. The reason given for Frank's discharge was that he would not tell Caruthers where Doctor Smith's notebook is located. Then Mr. Caruthers had Gilmore's security department physically remove him from the premises without allowing him to collect his personal belongings. Frank would like to get his belongings before he leaves."
Brenda looked toward Frank and asked, "Why didn't you tell Mr. Caruthers where the notebook is. It is Company property."
I kept my mouth shut and Kirk said, "Frank doesn't know where Doc's notebook is located."
Seeing the potential for a wrongful discharge suit and hoping to placate Frank, Brenda agreed to escort Frank to the lab, so he could get his belongings. She had the department secretary unlock Doc's lab. Under the watchful eye of Brenda, Frank collected his belongings. The secretary told Caruthers what was happening, so on the way out of the lab, Frank and the lawyers encountered Caruthers.
Caruthers immediately became belligerent and threatened Frank with arrest. Brenda told him to back off for she authorized Frank's presence on company property, so he could collect his personal belongings. Frank and the lawyers left the lab. Frank's continual silence and smile made Brenda more than a little nervous regarding a potential lawsuit.
"Mr. Toliver, the Company and I regret what happened and hope that you will understand that Doctor Smith's death placed Mr. Caruthers under extreme stress."
Kirk laughed as he looked at Brenda, "Mrs. Miller, I don't think that Mr. Caruthers truly understands the meaning of stress. However, I think he will once my client inherits Doctor Smith's estate and gains title to his patents."
Brenda turned pale when she realized that Caruthers fired the man who would shortly become the owner of the patents the company needed to produce several of their more profitable lines of candy. A silent Frank continued smiling as he and Kirk walked out the front door.
We finished our pizza while Frank was telling his story. We finished off our pitcher of beer as we laughed our heads off at Brenda's reaction when she learned that Frank would inherit Doc's estate. We laughed even louder at our speculation of what probably happened at Gilmore's after Frank left. We kept getting mental images of heads rolling through the hallways.
The next two months passed with Frank and I hanging out either at the apartment or at Doc's house after the inventory was completed. I suppose I should get used to thinking of it as Frank's house as the title is now in his name. Frank and I wanted to continue our relationship as roommates, so I moved in with him. It was during that two-month period that I accepted a job at Acme Sales, Inc., and my troubles with the BDSM ladies began.
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 is a winner, 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 was too small for a maintenance department, 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, and then empty the traps once 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 manages the Warehouse Department, and Michelle Keating is responsible for the Sales Department.
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 more her attitude that gave me that impression 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 5' 5", she is four inches shorter than I am. I prefer short women who are just slightly plump. Barbara, Dana, and Michelle are around my height of 5' 9", and they 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 might 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 treated me in an extremely demeaning and insulting manner. If they knew that I had 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 a '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.
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 my fuck toys and controlling them at work and at home.
I was very angry and don't recall exactly how I answered him. Frank 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 are 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. Then we left to go shopping for several substances that are only available at chemical supply houses.
When we got back to the house, we ate the take-out we bought on the way home, and then carried everything we bought 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 chemical, poured it into a small beaker, and labeled the beaker with the contents. When he had all of the ingredients in labeled beakers, he hooked up two Bunsen burners and placed them under two large beakers that were resting on support stands.
When everything was ready, he explained the process to me. It required two people, because two beakers of chemicals were 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. The two solutions would be combined and the remaining chemicals added. The cooled mixture would be filtered to recover the suspended solids, which was the Chocolateen.
Frank gave me 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 apparently, he did. Frank organized the chemicals 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 doing that type of work. Finally, Frank combined the two solutions, 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 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 petri dish before storing them in a cool dark place. He then measured and added ethanol to the mortar and used a pestle to mix the two substances. Frank filtered the solution to remove any suspended solids 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 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 Chocolateen a day for a week of the solution we prepared would be enough to cause someone to become addicted. More than that accelerates and deepens the addiction but is not dangerous.
There are two alternatives for ending a Chocolateen addiction. The first alternative is to abstain from further consumption; the side effects are similar to heroin withdrawal symptoms. The second alternative is to reduce the amount ingested per day; the side effects are slight nausea and mild headaches.
I wasn't sure I wanted to pursue the use of Chocolateen. Its use wasn't fully tested so it 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 those so I could recognize them.
According to his plan, I was to put the cookies in a large plastic container, and using a magic marker, write 'Chocolateen Cookies / Highly Addictive / Do Not Eat' on the top of the container. 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 needed to be away from my desk frequently.
The BDSM ladies were famous for taking their coworkers' munchies without asking. Frank's plan would work exactly as he thought. 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, they deserved what they got. Besides, it took almost 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 not directly to 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 sweet eater so as the cookies cooled, I marked three cookies with a knife crease across the top and placed them in the container. I doctored the remaining 15 cookies with Chocolateen and left them to dry. Frank helped me with the cookies that evening, and he just smiled at what we 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 I over other people was heady stuff to us. Considering our personalities, others would think it scary. It's like giving a six year old a hand grenade.
Tuesday morning I stacked the doctored cookies on top of the undoctored ones and put the lid securely in place on the container. I wrote the message Frank suggested across the lid with a 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. It was close to the end of the day, and I could tell Sandy wanted to talk to me.
"Well we're almost done", 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 a funny, somewhat quizzical look. I could tell this social klutz had put his foot in his mouth, so 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."