tagLesbian SexCreme de Marisol

Creme de Marisol

byDewy Pointe©

a scene by Dewy Pointe

NOTE: This is adult fiction containing mature material and is intended for an adult readership. If you are offended by such content then please exit the page. Feedback is always welcome. Please let me know if you'd like the narrative expanded.


* * * * *

Marisol walked briskly to her roadster. The resignation had been accepted and she was free to "pursue other opportunities." She tensed her lips in the slight upturn at the corners that was the closest she came to mustering a grin. The nondisclosure clause, the noncompetitive clause and the secrecy clause should mollify Modulagen's attorneys. They would have erased her memory too if they could pull that off. However, years of graduate education and mental training locked formulas and technical procedures into her Ivy League brain; what couldn't be remembered had been transferred out in encrypted e-mail, journal articles and internal memos for months.

Her flats scuffed the asphalt as she paused to open the bright red car door. The roadster's seat had been custom built to fit her diminutive frame, so her shortness was no impediment to driving the car - fast. She let out a long breath as she buckled up and started the motor. Her determined black eyes glanced at her round faced reflection in the rear view mirror. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and olive skin bore no makeup. Only a thin line of red lipstick added color to her face.

Unless one were to include the flush in her cheeks. The crimson of anger, rejection and retribution glowed through. The compound, her formula, was deemed to have "unacceptable psychotropic sequelae." All work had ceased; all documentation was filed away. She would not accept reassignment. Thousands of women clamored for what she had spent years developing, and Marisol knew as she sped away from the biotech complex that desire would not only accept psychological aberration but would pay millions for its induction contingent on results.

Dr. Marisol Olvares could produce results. As she changed for bed she regarded herself in her full-length mirror. The taunts and jibes of high school, college and even graduate school were all past history. No more asking if she were a boy and calling her names. The proof was here in her full bosom and in the stares of lustful men and envious women. Marisol was not flat chested any longer. Her crème had done this, and she remained psychologically stable and unaffected.

"I will prove it," she said out loud, defiantly.

__________________

"Dr. Olvares, don't you think it's unusual to meet a chairperson at home rather than at the university?"

Marisol had researched well. Dr. Clifton headed the biochemistry department of a small southern university willing to accept an accomplished Hispanic female for a faculty position. Any past irregularities and work history would be inconsequential. Dr. Clifton was a small-breasted woman nearly six feet tall. If there were psychological issues then Marisol was prepared to play them.

"Please, call me Marisol, Dr. Clifton. The university has made an offer that I'm prepared to accept, but I'd rather discuss my research in a more private venue."

"Alright... Marisol," Dr. Clifton started, "but of course you must call me Jan."

The two sat on the sofa in the living room of the Clifton's spacious home. The Cliftons were childless and the husband was on sabbatical in Europe. Nothing had been left to chance.

"Jan, my interest is hormonal catalysis of physiological change. Specifically I have researched ways to stimulate the hypertrophy of glandular tissue through the influence of synthetic biochemical agents."

Jan Clifton squinted quizzically. "Glandular tissue such as the breast?"

"Brava! Precisely so. Mechanical implants are barbaric means to an end. What if this could be done with modified hormones?"

"Certainly this has been tried. It's referenced in the literature, but the results haven't been dramatic and there are side effects." Dr. Clifton rose and paced as she thought. Her slacks rustled as she walked. She wore a loose fitting light blue blouse and her pants were belted at her narrow waist.

"What if I told you that I once wore an A cup." Marisol's blazer covered a tight white tank top that set off the size and firmness of her decolletage.

Jan's head spun around with enough pace to splay her long wavy red hair behind her. Her green eyes widened as she took in the Latina's chest. Marisol hunched out of the blazer so Dr. Clifton could see her entire torso. "I'd say that you have had augmentation. That's very obvious." Jan was a bit unsure and suspicious.

"You see why this had to be discussed here. The fact that I did this with a formula I developed can't be talked about openly."

"Dr. Olvares, I can't believe that." It wasn't good that the chairperson had reverted to formalities. Marisol removed the small photo album from her blazer pocket and extended it to Dr. Clifton.

"Here is my evidence."

Hesitantly she took the photos and examined them, pausing occasionally to look up at Marisol as she matched the face. Marisol got up and stood beside Dr. Clifton as she spoke, "You see the gradual change indicating no sudden surgical intervention."

"Did you have a series of fat injections?" Jan was curious.

"None at all. The topical application and, as I later learned, limited ingestion of the compound induced cellular growth."

"How did you target one region?" The chairperson was dubious.

"Some genetic modification was needed." Marisol whispered up to Jan's thin-lobed ear with its diamond-studded earring. "I can't reveal the details, of course."

Dr. Clifton turned her attention to the sloe-eyed researcher staring up at her. Jan caught the scent of perfume, a melange of aromas unlike any she had encountered before. The smell was earthy and subtly bittersweet. Perhaps the mix of fragrance with the nervous perspiration of the new faculty member produced the exotic combination. The olfactory sensation wasn't so much pleasant as intoxicating.

"Doc... uh, Marisol, the obvious question is why you did not remain at the corporation and market the product. The other faculty members will be wondering as well. Are there problems?"

"You know, as I do, that the potential is tremendous and lucrative. Ideas like this are wealth to be stolen." Marisol gestured animatedly as she spoke louder and more stridently. I was to be reassigned," she hissed the word, "and a team put together to refine the production process and the results."

Jan interrupted. "Are there side effects? What does..."

Marisol covered Jan's mouth with her hand. "Colleagues betrayed me and created obstacles. All of them can be overcome."

The shorter woman's agitation and proximity frightened Dr. Clifton a little, but the essence charging the air she breathed was entrancing, exciting. She felt her nipples hardening involuntarily as her clit's throbbing made its way into her consciousness. Her breathing quickened and flooded her lungs with more perfumed air.

"Jan, the breast is a modified sweat gland. My body is loaded with my compound, so I excrete it into the environment around me. Your response is being evoked."

Dr. Clifton pulled Marisol's hand from her mouth. "Leave now. Experimenting on yourself is dangerous and unprofessional. Your appointment must be reconsidered." Jan fought with all of her resolve to order Dr. Olvares out; she dared not move lest her bra and panties stimulated her aroused sex.

Marisol drew the fingers of her left hand across the skin of her right axilla. She placed her fingers under Jan's freckled nose so that the strong smell of her sweat filled Jan's thin nostrils. Jan needed air; she couldn't keep her mouth closed. She sucked in greedily as her breasts ached with sensation. She was becoming hot and wet.

"Do you feel it working? Stimulating your mammary tissue?"

Jan wrestled with the urge to drop Marisol's photo album and massage her swollen nipples. Her cortex was bathed in rising levels of different neurochemicals, addictive, pleasurable and energizing. The Latina slowly withdrew her fingers from the taller woman's mouth and nose. Instinctively Jan followed the pungent sweet aroma as Marisol guided the flame-haired head to her shaved, moist armpit.

Dr. Clifton succumbed to her primordial instincts as she inhaled the alluring mix of hormones. Jan couldn't know that Marisol's full bosom required relief as well, and Marisol was becoming aroused herself. The photo album fell to the carpet as Jan sucked and licked Marisol's underarm. The senior faculty member was now susceptible to suggestion. Completely forgetting herself, Jan dropped to her knees as the rush convulsed her in ecstasy.

Marisol peeled off her tank top and sports bra. Without prompting Jan took a dark brown nipple and areola into her eager mouth and sucked. "Si, chica," Marisol murmured as her own excitement grew. Jan was beyond noticing that Dr. Olvares's breast was lactating - a milky complex of hormones and genetically altered compounds. She only knew that the taste was irresistible.

Marisol ran her fingers through the wavy locks of red hair surrounding the face at her breast. The glossy black nail polish peeked through the auburn tresses. Olvares used the entwined hair to pull Jan's ravenous mouth to her other breast. Jan sucked hungrily.

"Say nothing of this. You will hire me and you will allow me to do my work. I won't be stopped now," Marisol commanded.

Jan moaned with delight. Gritting her teeth, Marisol yanked Dr. Clifton hard by the hair and pulled her face away from her globular brown tit. Jan's green eyes gazed desirously up at the source of her pleasure. She scarcely registered the pain of pulled hair and licked her lips in the hope of more nursing.

"Do you understand?" Marisol spat the words.

"Yes. Yes, Marisol. There will be no problems."

"Good. If you cooperate then the growth of your breasts that is beginning now will continue. You will have what you have always secretly wanted - and more. You will want to be sucked as well. Before I massage the compound onto your chest I need one more thing."

Marisol lowered her jeans and black panties. Her jet-black pubic hair glistened. Jan paused; she had never... The pussy scent was too alluring, and Jan plunged her tongue into the cleft that contained the turgid clit. Now Marisol moaned, the long tongue playing around her pussy lips and clit as Jan's fingers kneaded her tight ass. Marisol's staccato grunts came faster and faster as she climaxed.

____________

Jan lay naked on her bed. Her little white breasts were still sensitive, and Jan thought of their enlargement as she fingered her pussy. Whatever happened now, she was willing to do what was necessary to fulfill her own desires.

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