Serpentitis Pt. 02

Archer's results were ready two days later. His analysis identified the testosterone promoter, and tentatively identified the other gene as a human homeobox gene of unknown function. The vector was unfamiliar, but he was able to find the sequence in the public databases: it turned out to be a proprietary transfer vector, patented by a local biotech company.

Finally over the cold symptoms, Carson returned to the clinic, but told his staff to clear all his appointments unless they called reporting "serpentitis" symptoms. He then contacted the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, and reported the outbreak. They were understandably skeptical, but after he faxed them Archer's report and his patient files (with their pictures and self-reported measurements), they were obligated to investigate. In parting, Carson mentioned that they would not want to report this particular outbreak to the media: "Can you imagine what traffic into Boston would be like? Half the men in the country would be hijacking planes."

A CDC team had come and investigated, talked to the biotech company, and had traced all the infected men they could find. As a urology expert, Carson had been roped into the investigation, and had been involved until the CDC determined that there were no new cases. He had met both the president and the vice president, who had come to Boston for a fund raiser, and then came down with severe colds a week later.

The day after the CDC closed the case on serpentitis, Carson was presenting his business plan to venture capitalists. He sold his interest in the clinic, raised $12 million in venture capital, and incorporated Python Biotechnology. Research was going well, and they'd developed a strictly non-contagious form of the vector (can't have people getting the treatment for free!). A technically illegal informal clinical trial had produced no unwanted effects, and although quite a few women came down with the cold symptoms after direct administration, none had experienced any adverse reactions. The "trial subjects", many of them company employees, had been kept in isolation their significant others throughout the duration of their participation.

Still, Boston was developing a reputation as a city of particularly virile men, probably due in part to the original infection. He had heard that a number of men had taken to wearing small snake pins on their jacket or shirt, and that men wearing such things in the bars downtown were, let's just say, unusually popular.

The only real obstacle had been licensing rights from the original biotech company, Delta. Delta hadn't patented the virus, but had asserted that it was a trade secret when they heard rumors of Python's activities. Carson's lawyers had advised him that Delta's case was not a slam dunk, but was sufficient to tie them up for quite a while. Ultimately, Python's directors agreed that it was more expedient to pay a small royalty to Delta for use of the trade secret, and authorized negotiations. The remaining time since then had been consumed by Delta's dithering: they couldn't decide whether they wanted a public connection with Python, and more to the point, whether there was liability involved in licensing the technology to Python. If they dragged their feet any more, Python's second product would end up on the market first.

Enough reverie. At this point, they were nearly ready to file with the FDA.

Product number one was called the "pythonizer" within the company. Marketing was still working on a suitable generic name and trademark for the actual release. Product number two was officially titled "mammary enhancement virus" (MEV), but was called variously "melonitis", "Wassermelon's disease" (said with a German accent), and "titty-titty-boing-boing" ("TTBB" for short) by the staff. The first successful version, MEV1, had resulted in a number of female rats with mammary glands so over-developed that their legs wouldn't reach the floors of their cages. Unfortunately, it turned out that using the estrogen promoter had not been a good idea: males also have estrogen receptors, and small quantities of estrogen in circulation. Male rats had also developed large mammary glands. Later versions used a different promoter, derived from a gene expressed only in females. The current version was MEV4, and seemed to have all the bugs worked out. The MEV team were now working on calibrated versions capable of producing carefully defined results: the unofficial names for these versions were MEV5-c, MEV5-d, MEV5-dd, MEV5-f, and "MEV5-OMyGod". Of course, those designations were based on an assumed A or B cup starting size: a woman starting off with a more ample bust would increase a proportionately greater amount.

Virginia had already volunteered to try MEV5-f when it got to trial stage. The mere thought of her already full bust expanding under the influence of MEV5-f aroused him: she would end up absolutely huge. His pants were now uncomfortably tight. Tapping the keyboard, he sent "GINNY NEED U NOW - OFC" to her pager, and closed the office blinds while he waited for her to run up the stairs from the floor below, where she supervised the isolation rooms.

Minutes later, she slipped into the office and locked the door behind her. The entire company knew better than to disturb Dr. Carson when his door was closed, and when the blinds were drawn all his phone calls were routed directly to voice mail.

Virginia quickly shucked off her blouse, skirt and shoes. "Oh, are we all worked up again? Can't imagine why..." she said with a leer. It was an often-repeated observation that his work now resulted in frequent arousal - these mid-day office encounters happened at least twice a week, in addition to their usual morning and evening romps. Virginia was also highly stimulated, working closely with the unofficial trial subjects who came to spend a couple of weeks in the isolation rooms (and to grow another six or eight inches longer). Of course, they hardly ever grew as long as Carson, who had topped out at a full 15", and thicker than her wrist, by the time he'd gotten over his bout of serpentitis.

His chair spun half-way around, revealing that he'd already removed his pants, and was standing at attention. She opened the front clasp of her bra, and wrapped her voluptuous breasts around his shaft.

Sliding slowly up and down, she observed "Well, we are all worked up again." Looking up at his face, she asked "Quick today?". After a pause, he nodded. She proceeded to give him the "elevator special" - the fellatio techniques designed to bring him off as quickly as possible. These she usually reserved to relieve sudden urges, such as during an elevator ride, an airplane lavatory, a quickie in the bathroom while the guests were freshening up, or a pick-me-up before a board meeting. She'd get her full satisfaction tonight, especially since the elevator special usually left him feeling even more aroused several hours later, just from thinking about it.

Up and down, up and down, tongue and tits on his turgid shaft. Slowly, then quicker, watching the veins bulge out and the head turn darker purple. Stuffing the head and top couple inches into her mouth, running her tongue around and around the top and under the head, while both hands pumped slowly up and down. His hands kneading her breasts, flicking the nipples. He began to gasp, short quick intakes of breath, and she knew he was close. Impishly, she stopped for second and removed her mouth. When he opened his eyes and looked down at her, his hands still on her breasts, she said "Just imagine these five sizes larger". His bushy eyebrows shot up, and she stuffed the end back into her mouth just in time to catch the first spurt. It was amazingly hard to smile with so much in her mouth.

After cleaning up, and dressing again, she prepared to go back to work. "Leave the lights down?" she asked, knowing that he liked to nap or rest for a half hour after such sessions. He nodded, leaning back in his chair and basking.

A thought had occurred to him earlier. Something important... Oh yes, Johnson. This could be trouble...