Secret Experiment: Mother's Love

A mother and son are unknowingly given a powerful aphrodisiac as part of a secret government experiment.

This is a standalone sequel to my story 'The Secret Experiment.' Reading the first three parts aren't necessary, but may add to the experience.

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Experiment B. Person(s) Profile(s)

Subject #2. Amanda Foreman/Female/Age 45.

Race: Caucasian.

Height: Five feet ten inches.

Weight: 186 lbs.

Hair: Black (dyed)

Eyes: Brown

Notable Markings/Features: No tattoos or notable scars. Subject has long hair which goes down to her lower back.

Notable Markings/Features: Thick set figure, slightly overweight with an hourglass shape, very large thighs and butt, large breasts.

Marital Status: Married, twenty six years and three months.

Spouse Name: John Foreman/Male/48.

Children/dependents: Two.

Children/dependents name: Dean Foreman/Male/22.

Children/dependents name: Jane Bloome/Female/24.

Identification Number: 002

Street Address: 7467 Washington ave.

City: Las Vegas.

State: Nevada.

Distance from experiment HQ: 270 Miles.

Test Beginning: February 4th, 2023.

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE. READ CAREFULLY. Important Behavioral Information Relevant to Study.

Temperament: liberal, open, conscientious.

IQ: 102

Sexual promiscuity: Slight. Monogamous. Faithfully married. Exhibitionist.

Addictive tendencies (added at behest of General Administrator Wilcox): Moderate.

Number of sexual partners: Two.

Degree of certainty: Very certain.

Sexuality: Presumed Heterosexual.

Degree of Certainty: Very certain.

Alcohol consumption: Frequent, with moderate quantities.

Alcoholic: No.

Illicit Drug Use: Moderate, Marijuana (On grounds of federal law, Marijuana is considered a controlled substance and therefore illicit. State laws irrelevant to categorization.)

Subject #3: Dean Foreman/Male/Age 22.

Abridged subject file, to see full report, make query with General Administrator Wilcox.

Subject information: Male, Unmarried, 5 feet 11 inches, 170 lbs, mild to moderate promiscuity, moderate to severe addictive tendencies, porn addiction, odd or unusual feelings toward his mother and sister as reported by Subject #001 (Jane Bloome/sister).

Does subject drink or use illicit drugs: Subject drink's very rarely and very lightly. No history of drug use.

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Experiment HQ, Los Angeles California

"General Administrator Wilcox, sir." A muted voice came through the radio on the desk.

"Agent?" The older man asked, nodding at Johnson across the room

"The target has arrived. I repeat, the target has arrived." The voice said.

"Roger that, agent." Said the gruff man, "We are clear to proceed.

Suddenly, the multitude of screens and monitors adoring the walls of the small room came to life as Johnston sighed and flipped a number of switches on the control panel, "Alright everyone... are we all ready?"

A series of green lights lit up on the panel, a wordless affirmation of readiness. Nodding slowly, Johnson typed a command into his console and on the primary monitor was a modestly sized two story house in a dense suburban crawl. With beige walls and brown roofing, the tidy yard was bright green, with a healthy lawn and a single large tree. On the driveway were two vehicles, a large brown truck and a small silver sedan.

"And we're live..." Johnson confirmed, looking forlornly at his superior and speaking into his receiver once more, "Commence experiment number two... may it go smoother than the first, god willing."

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Amanda.

knock knock knock knockknockknockknockknock

"Just a seconnnnnd!" Amanda shouted towards the entryway.

In the middle of disinfecting the smooth marbel countertop of her kitchen island and nursing a beer, Amanda wasn't having the greatest of days.

The night before had gone on a touch longer than either her or her husband had counted on, with the two of them getting home from a friend's birthday party much later than they'd expected, and staying up even later in bed. As a result, she was hungover and sore, nursing a nasty headache and trying her best to ignore the sunlight shining it's ray's through the gaps in the blinds.

Sighing, she took a generous sip of her beer and placed it on a bright blue coaster. Considering the state of her house and lamenting everything she'd have to do throughout the day, the kind of day she wanted nothing more than to lounge around in bed.

Hair of the dog...

Stepping past the fridge and around the center counter space, she made her way through the combined kitchen and living room and towards the front door.

Glancing through the peephole, she sighed at what she saw. A tall man in a light grey button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and wearing tight black jeans. In his left hand was a small clipboard, while his right fidgeted with a jet black pen. Behind his feet sat a small white duffel bag, likely a product of some sort, in Amanda's eyes.

A damn salesman, just what I need today...

Inhaling deeply and fixing up the best polite smile she could manage, she opened the door and spoke.

"Hi. What can I help you with?"

"Hello, Mrs.... Foreman, right?" The man asked happily, outstretching a veiny arm and offering his hand to her.

"Yup... that's me." Amanda said slowly, taking the man's hand and biting back a flash of irritation at his excessively tight grip, "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Justin, it's nice to meet you. Is your son here?" The man withdrew his hand, "We have some things to discuss, and he had informed me that he would be staying here with you for the next three weeks."

"Oh..." Amanda said, blinking in surprise, "No, he's not here quite yet. He should be any minute though. All he did was run up to the store for some coffee."

"Okay, that's perfect... I'll just... wait for him to get here..." he trailed off, gesturing at a black Mercedes parked at the curb and hesitating slightly as he moved to walk back to the street, "Thank you Ma'am."

Amanda sighed.

"Would you like to come in?" She asked tersely, "I'm sure he'll be right along. No sense in waiting outside."

"Why, that would be great!" He said brightly, leaning forward, "I thank you very much for your hospitality Mrs. Foreman."

"Of course," she said, reluctantly moving to the side and inviting him in.

"Just have a seat in the kitchen, I'll be right behind you." She finished, gesturing towards a set of tall chairs lining the kitchen island.

Smiling, the man shuffled past her and through the sitting space which divided the door and kitchen. Hastily snatching her phone from the front pocket of her blue jeans, she quickly tapped on her son's contact name and sent a text.

iMessage

Amanda: Where are you? Someone's here to see you, says his name is Justin.

Amanda: Hurry up

Amanda: .....

Amanda: xoxo

"So you're a Corona kind of gal, huh?" Justin chuckled as she stepped into the kitchen, gesturing at the half drunken bottle on the counter top.

"You know it." Amanda said, grabbing the beer and taking a generous sip.

"Beer's at..." The man glanced at a shiny watch on his wrist and smiled, "10 AM! A woman after my own heart!"

"Don't get too excited," Amanda laughed, leaning against the counter across from him, "This old lady is currently nursing a hangover from hell, and nothing helps more than a beer or two the day after. Normally I'm an 8 PM and later kinda gal."

"Smart woman," he remarked.

"I've been drinking for almost thirty years, hun," she grinned, "eventually you pick up some tricks."

Just then, the sound of a key fighting against a lock filled the room, and Amanda sighed in relief as the front door swung open and her son Dean entered the house, nodding his head and smiling at the man sat at the counter.

"Hey Justin!" Her son said amicably, "I didn't expect you here so early."

"Well," Justin said, getting to his feet to shake Dean's hand, "My last house call ended a little early, so I'm running a bit ahead of schedule."

"I'm sorry to impose on your day Ma'am," he nodded in Amanda's direction, "We'll be done before you finish that beer, I promise."

"No, no!" She said, raising her hands and and shrugging, "The longer you're here, the longer I have an excuse to lounge around in bed. So by all means, take your time."

Taking her beer and making her way to her bedroom, she was stopped by the sound of her son's voice as she placed her foot on the first step of the staircase.

"Actually.... Mom?" Dean questioned her departing form.

"Yes, son?" She asked, stopping in her tracks and reluctantly turning around.

"You think maybe you can stay?" He asked, an apologetic grimace on his face, "I actually wanted to run all this by you anyway. I figured you'd still be asleep though... with how late you and dad were up last night."

Her cheeks heating as the blood rushed to her face, she cringed inside at the thought of her son hearing what her and his father had gotten up to the night before. They'd had four years with the house all to themselves, and were unused to having to temper their voices during bouts of drunken sex.

Cheeky little bastard, you're guilt tripping me, aren't you? She raised her brow at her son before slowly walking back to the counter and leaning into it.

"Okay... I'll bite." She sighed, taking another sip of her beer and propping her chin up on her free hand, "what's this all about? Some kinda investment?"

"No, no, no Mrs. Foreman," Justin laughed, "Don't worry, it's nothing like that."

"Your son," he continued, reaching into his bag and withdrawing a stack of papers and a small spiral notebook, "has been selected to participate in a behavioral study."

"A... behavioral study?" She asked, skepticism painting her tone, "as in...?"

"It's great, mom!" Her son cut in, sitting a couple chairs away from Justin and slapping his arms onto the counter, "All I've gotta do is keep a little sensor strapped to my wrist and write in a journal for the next two weeks."

"Is that so?" She inquired, her curiosity piqued, "What exactly are we studying here, Justin?"

"Hang on," Dean stopped them short, "You haven't even heard the best part yet. In return for my participation, I'll be getting paid..."

Always the perpetual showman, he trailed off and looked at Justin expectantly, smirking at her through the side of his mouth and lightly drumming his hands against the counter top.

When he was a teenager, she'd always tell him he'd make a great lawyer... or used car salesman. Times like this reminded her why.

"At the conclusion of the study, each subject will recieve $2500 in compensation for time and services rendered," he said over the Manila folder, tracing the words with a fingertip and looking between the two of them.

"Ohhh, I see." She laughed, rolling her eyes and addressing them both, "I'll ask again, what exactly is the purpose of this study?"

"Mom, it's-"

"I'm glad you asked, Ma'am," Justin interjected, "We're testing a revolutionary method of treating anxiety, what we're doing here could very well irrevocably raise the standard for psychiatric careeverywhere."

"This..." he continued, holding up what looked like a small, thick wristband, "We hope, will change the world."

Skepitcal, Amanda took it and examined the thing. The contraption would have looked perfectly normal were it not for three small wires lining the inside, where the solid material of the band would meet the underside of a wrist. At the end of each wire was a small bit of webbing, which looked as if it were meant to sit flush against the skin. At the center of the inner band was...

"Justin..." Amanda frowned, thumbing what looked like a small nozzle covered by a translucent white pad, "What is this?"

"That," the man responded, "Is the delivery mechanism."

"For... what exactly?" Dean interjected, seeming as if he'd been building up to this question since he walked through the door.

"Unfortunately folks... I'm not allowed to say."

"Excuse me?" Amanda demanded, laughing bitterly and handing the band back, "So you expect my son to wear this thing around for what? Two weeks? While you shoot him full of god knows what, without even granting him the privilege of knowing what he's taking? Are you kidding me?"

"Actually Mrs. Foreman... I was hoping you'dboth wear these for the next two weeks..." Justin responded, folding his hands and looking her straight in the eye.

"Mom... he's ready to give us an even ten thousand dollars if we both participate." Dean said softly, "I could really use the money you know. With the big move coming up and all..."

Amanda inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose and finishing off the corona which had sat forgotten in her hand for some time now.

When Dean was seventeen, he'd gotten his highschool girlfriend pregnant. Of course, that was a problem enough in and of itself. But to make matters worse, the young girl didn't deign to tell him about the product of their relationship before moving off to Oklahoma with her family, and he'd only found out the year beforehand through doing a 23AndMe test and seeing his apparent daughter in their database. Since then he'd made contact with the mother and began planning a move somewhere close by ever since. He was struggling for cash and she knew it. Every penny he made which wasn't spent on food all went to the move. Whether it was a new vehicle to ensure he made the trip without a hitch, rent on a second property he'd yet to even move into, or the steady stream of cash he'd been dumping into networking and marketing himself in order to ensure he'd be able to find a steady stream of work as an electrician once he finally made the move.

She was proud of him, but also deeply concerned about the absolute wrench he was throwing into his currently stable life. So she knew just how big the money would be for him.

"Mrs Foreman..." Justin said plainly, "If I may?"

"You may." She sighed, squinting suspiciously.

"As part of the study, I'm not allowed to tell you what you'll be given. We can't risk our subjects researching the compound themselves and opening themselves up to placebos, or tarnishing the results with their own personal expectations. It's just standard procedure," He said, his words sounding very rehearsed, but ringing true all the same, "BUT, I can assure you that we've been approved for human testing by the FDA for a reason. The safety profile is... outstanding, to say the very least."

"Mom... please..." Dean pleaded, walking around the counter and clutching her hand, "This money could change everything for me..."

Manipulative little shit... you're lucky I love you.

"Fine," Amanda snapped, brushing a tear from her eye and looking at Justin, "Ten grand?"

"Ten grand," he repeated, smiling broadly and offering her his hand.

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Experiment HQ, Los Angeles, California.

"You see that, Johnson?" Wilcox asked, pointing towards the screen with a toothy grin, "That right there, is a god damn professional. 'Justin' here, is doing some damn fine work."

Scoffing, Johnson scribbled furiously on his clipboard and cast his boss a weary glance, "You'll have to excuse my lack of enthusiasm sir... the catastrophe with Mrs. Bloome seems to have left me feeling uneasy. One can only wonder why..."

Brushing past his comment, the older man continued unabated, "This time will go much smoother Johnson, just watch. We have a much more reliable delivery method, a more stable environment, and the best of the best agents on the ground..."

"This will go off without a hitch," Wilcox smiled, taking a puff of his cigar, "I can feel it!"

"The only way this could possibly go off 'without a hitch,' sir? Johnson said dangerously, "Is if we were to leave this poor family alone. This woman still doesn't even know what happened to her daughter, and we're getting ready to drug her up all the same."

"Heavy is the head that wear's the crown, Johnson," Wilcox remarked, waving his cigar in the other man's direction and sipping a glass of bourbon.

"And that's us?" Johnson bit back, voice full of venom, "Is that it? Two petty tyrants playing our hands at godhood? Making the lives of innocent American's our hapless playthings? You'll have to excuse my insolence sir, but that isnot a crown I'd like to wear."

"We do not make these calculations likely," Wilcox growled, barring his teeth and taking another generous sip of his liquor, "Nor did we choose our subjects with the sort of careless disdain you seem to think we did. Johnson... there's a lot you don't yet know. You'll have to consider that when you make these... judgements of yours."

"Anyways," The man said pleasantly, "They look to be finishing up. Back to the show, Johnson."

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Amanda

The onboarding process took a solid hour, during which time the pounding in her head had begun bordering on a full blown migraine, and her ever dwindling patience was threatening to snap. If she had to sign one more release, check one more box... she was going to blow.

"And.... There we go!" Justin remarked happily, fitting the last latch of the band onto Amanda's wrist and clicking it in place with a small circular key.

"At the end of the next 14 days, I will return and remove these for you," He said as he set to work packing a collection of folders and paperwork into his bag, "In the meantime, the two of you go about your lives as normal, and make sure you write in those journals every single day, without exception. Your compensation depends on those thought's of yours being recordeddaily."

"Thank you so much Justin," Dean said heartily, shaking his hand vervaciously and giving him a grateful smile, "You have no idea how grateful I am, for... all of this."

"Don't thank me Dean. Thank Uncle Sam," Justin said, "Without a massive check from the government, none of this would be possible."

"Yes, we'll make sure to say our pledges of allegiance today Justin, thank you," Amanda said sharply, gently leading him to the front door, "Now if you'll excuse us, my son has a busy day today, and my bed is calling my name."

"Oh! Of course, of course!" Justin chuckled, not missing a beat, "I do apologize for taking so much of your time. A nasty hangover's nothing to scoff at, is it?"

"No, definitely not." She said, opening the door and beckoning him out, "Thank you for your time today, Mr......?"

"Beckham, but please call me Justin."

"Well Justin, as agreed, we will call with any questions or concerns." Amanda said, mustering up her best smile and ruing the man for being so damn talkative and friendly.

"Yup," Dean said from behind her shoulder, "But I think we should be good, you described everything pretty well."

"Well folks, just remember," Justin said, stepping through the door and turning to face them from the welcome mat, "If those pads against your wrists feel damp? It's perfectly normal. Sometimes the compound can take a few minutes to fully absorb through the skin. But other than that, I think we're all set."

"Thank you Justin," Amanda and Dean said in unison, earning a small grin from the man on the porch.

"I do hope you two have a fantastic day, and again, don't hesitate to call."

And with that, the man gave a small wave and turned for his car.

Sighing in relief, Amanda slowly closed the door and leaned her forehead against the cool material as it clicked into place.

"I thought that man would never leave," She said bitterly, turning to her son and tapping a finger against his chest, "and YOU!"

"What?" Dean asked sheepishly.