The Freak

"Really?" I inquired.

"Really," she laughed. "That leads me to a question. Can we have a repeat of Tuesday night this Friday?"

"Nothing would make me happier," I seriously replied.

While we only did it twice Friday night it was even better, and more intense, than Tuesday night. I was virtually passed out by the time that I finished injecting my second load into her steaming hot cunt as she screamed my name.

Vivian's plan was to "experiment," as she put it, two or three times a week, depending upon her schedule, for the next two months and if things developed as she subjectively thought they had so far, she would start her experiments.

By the end of the second month Vivian swore that she had no symptoms of MS even though there still were markers in her blood so that she wasn't "cured," and any objective test she ran on herself indicated the same thing. She was thrilled as a professional; I was thrilled since it meant that I could continue fucking her.

There was one problem, however; I had fallen in love with Vivian. I mean when someone has the face and body of a Goddess, fucks like a mink, has a genius IQ, has a fun and positive personality, and is rich as shit, how could any normal guy like me not fall head over heels for her.

Despite the fact that initially I was excited by the fact that I would be getting decent strange pussy on a regular basis, I now only desired Vivian, even if she was seventeen years older than I was. Any 22 year old would kill to have her body. I felt obligated to tell her.

The day that she was to explain the details of her experiments to me I timidly said "Vivian; I don't want to rain on your parade, but I've fallen in love with you and I don't have any desire to have sex with anyone else. I...I...just don't think that I could do it."

Vivian got a crooked smile and held my hands in hers. "I can't say that I actually love you, Brian -- at least not yet -- but I am very fond of you. However, I need you to follow through. This is the most important thing that I have done professionally, and could lead to relieving the suffering of hundreds of thousands of people, and for me to selfishly fulfill some of my life's ambitions."

We talked quietly for the next half hour. Finally it came down to a simple bribe. "If you will help me with my experiments for the next two years, you can move into my condo with me tomorrow."

I was flabbergasted.

"Of course nights before you are to experiment with another woman we can't have sex -- at least you can't ejaculate although there will be no prohibition on you giving me oral," she giggled; the first time that I ever heard her giggle.

"Could that possibly lead to a long term relationship, even when the experiments are over?" I nervously asked.

"Yes," she beamed, and my heart melted. At that point in time I would have done anything that she asked short of sticking my cock in a meat grinder.

**************

The details of the "experiments" were relatively simple. She -- after getting signatures on a confidentiality agreement -- would prep the women about the experiment, and if they were married get the video and written agreement of their husbands. I would take each "subject" out to dinner one night, to some activity during daytime, and then we would make the arrangements to have intercourse. Either I or the subject could back out at any time before the actual event. The subject would also have to have an all clear STD test result.

During the "experiment" I would eat the subject to orgasm, and then "inject" her twice. She would have all of her vitals tested (by MRIs and blood tests, among others) both before and after the experiment. The experiment would be repeated as many times as Vivian required to get worthwhile results.

Neither the subject nor I could be paid to do the experiments since that might run afoul of prostitution laws. Vivian expected that I would have to "run experiments" five or six times a month. I agreed, signed another confidential document to that effect, and moved into Vivian's luxury condo that weekend. We christened half the rooms that weekend, but I had to refrain Monday and Tuesday nights since the first intercourse -- assuming that all went well with my interaction with the subject Monday and Tuesday -- was Wednesday night.

I think the first subject Vivian picked with great care. June was a very good looking 21 year old single woman with long blond hair and azure blue eyes, and a fairly impressive chest. June was also one of the neediest of Vivian's patients, having had MS almost since birth. When we went to dinner I had to walk very slowly for her to keep up with me, and much to her embarrassment on our daytime excursion we had to stop regularly, and I even had to massage her calves when June had muscle spasms on two occasions.

Despite the fact that I was in love with Vivian, since Vivian had drilled it into my head that this was the best thing that I could do to help her, and since June was a passive inexperienced beautiful young woman, I had no problem really "getting into it." She chugged four ounces of 100 proof whiskey before we started to alleviate any anxiety.

June loved my oral stimulation so much that I gave her two oral orgasms before fucking her the first time. While, as I said, she was passive it was actually such a significant change from the now wild Vivian that it was a nice change of pace. She was fatigued after the first injection and fell asleep, but I woke her up after about an hour and injected her doggy style while mauling her tits -- which really seemed to ring her chimes.

When I experimented with June again two weeks later, and then twice more two weeks apart, she became more and more active and she told me many times how thrilled she was that her symptoms had been reduced by at least 90%. I know that she was disappointed when we had to stop for a year so that Vivian could gauge the long term effects of my "treatment" and I admit to being slightly disappointed too since all subjects were not as good-looking or effusively grateful as June was.

Over the first year I had some less than stellar experiences, and one bad one, but overall I actually have to say I enjoyed it since most subjects were very receptive and appreciative; but I would never had done it without being able to pork Vivian at least three times a week.

My feelings for Vivian deepened, but another problem arose. I suspected that one of the other neurologists in her five person practice had knowledge of the experiments, and was also sweet on Vivian. His name was Ashton Quincy, he was 41 years old, and haughty. Vivian assured me that he knew nothing of the experiments -- nor did the other three neurologists in her practice, all of whom I liked -- and that he had no romantic interest in her, or she in him. However, I used the situation with Ashton to my advantage.

After complaining about things for a month, one night after an exceptionally vigorous fuck I was lying next to her with a blank stare, Vivian asked "What's wrong Brian?"

"Vivian; I want some security; you know how much I love you; I want to get married."

"But honey, I'm seventeen years older than you are," she said soothingly stroking my face.

"Age is just a number. You're better looking and younger acting -- except with your doctor face on," I chuckled, "than 99% of 25 year olds."

"You know that I'm a three time loser too; I've been divorced three times," she continued as she stroked my face again.

I had known about two times; the third time surprised me but didn't scare me. "That doesn't make any difference to me," I replied kissing her on the lips.

Shockingly she agreed to marry me. It may have just been to keep me going with the experiments, but I didn't really care. We had a small ceremony before a justice of the piece with only my parents and brother, and her sister and brother-in-law, in attendance. We postponed our honeymoon until after the experiments concluded, although we suspended the experiments for a week and fucked twice every night.

The prenup that we signed was reviewed by my mother, and was standard considering that Vivian was wealthy and I was not. Both my mother and I considered it fair. I did agree in the prenup to see the experiments through at least one more year, and we did have a mutual adultery clause with a significant penalty.

*************

By the time that Vivian and I had been married for about ten months, and the experiments had been going on about twenty two months, she came to a decision, and weird things started happening. Since she had gotten lots of promising data, her decision was to terminate the experiments after another eight months, and to terminate my participation in them after another six months. I verbally agreed to that provided that she give me a peek into what she had found so far.

While she didn't show me all the data, what she had learned was that of the 21 subjects that she had good data for (the subject of the bad scene that I earlier hinted at provided no worthwhile data) 100% saw a distinct relief of symptoms. The relief ranged from a 15% mitigation in symptoms after one experiment, to over 90% mitigation after at least three experiments spaced apart from two weeks to two months. Only one subject (who we called "Subject K") never got more than a 15% mitigation however. Not surprisingly Susan was one of the subjects -- she had no hard feelings -- and she had one of the best mitigation rates.

The three subjects -- including June (who we called "Subject A") and Susan -- that had 90%+ mitigation and that were early participants still had more than 80% mitigation even after more than a year since their last "injection." In Vivian's case -- since we had sex at least twice a week, and usually four times -- her symptoms were completely gone even though there were still markers in her blood indicating that she wasn't actually "cured."

Vivian even showed me the first draft of an article that she intended to ultimately submit to a medical journal where I was initially identified as "The Injector," and much of her data was summarized.

One odd thing that she found out was that if the subject had consumed about two ounces of ethanol (not two ounces of wine, hard liquor, or beer, but two ounces of the ethanol in the wine, beer, or hard liquor) the mitigation was enhanced by about 20%.

Vivian was very happy with the results. I was proud of myself. I had actually helped 21 women out, and had fun doing it; and there was only one complication (one married subject got emotionally attached to me and it caused a rift with her husband and they got divorced), which isn't bad for a two plus year experiment. Despite the fact that the sex was fun, I honestly was looking forward to only -- and more -- sex with Vivian since she was my best sex partner by a wide margin.

That's where the weird things came in.

First Dr. Asshole Quincy became an even bigger asshole around me, and made suggestive comments to Vivian in my presence which she seemingly laughed off, and begged me not to confront Quincy about.

Second, three times over a six week period when Vivian and I shared a bottle of wine on a Friday or Saturday night I started nodding off while we watched a movie. I went to bed early since I couldn't keep my eyes open and when I woke up the next morning one of my arms hurt in a strange way. All three mornings Vivian sucked my cock and then rode me like a champion cowgirl while I mauled her bodacious mammaries, and I soon forgot about the arm discomfort.

Third, Vivian was very secretive about some of the things she was doing, and closed her laptop or desk drawer, or terminated a cellphone conversation, whenever I showed up.

I don't know what made me do it; maybe I was becoming more sophisticated hanging around Vivian and her friends; but I decided to investigate.

I put two voice and motion activated video cameras in our bedroom, searched the condo for medicines that were unusual, and put a locator app on Vivian's phone and Dr. Asshole's phone (which they carelessly left in their desks when seeing patients in examination rooms or while doing surgery).

After my preparations were complete -- I really hoped that I was wrong -- the next Friday night I pretended to drink the wine that Vivian had given me, but I cleverly dumped it and replaced it with grape juice of the same color. I complained of fatigue and dizziness and went to bed early. After about 90 minutes Vivian and Dr. Asshole came into the room. I pretended to be comatose.

While Dr. Asshole held up my arm, Vivian drew a large vial of blood from it. While doing so they chatted about how they probably would now be able to replicate the materials in my seminal fluid that caused the desired mitigation of MS symptoms and how Vivian would dump me once the experiments were complete so that I'd never be the wiser about the chemical treatment that they expected to develop.

After they put the vial away Asshole started kissing Vivian. "Let's fuck in your bed again with The Freak comatose right next to us," Asshole cackled.

"Why does that turn you on so much," Vivian chuckled.

"Because it demonstrates how superior I am to The Fucking Freak, that's why," he snickered. Then I heard giggling and moaning sounds and the mattress started bouncing.

I knew that the better course of action would be to continue to pretend that I was comatose, but I just couldn't take it. I was thinking of what I could do that wouldn't land me in jail but would be very unpleasant for my bedmates when an idea hit me.

The fuckers were too busy to notice me quietly leaving the bed, go into the bathroom, and get the carbon dioxide fire extinguisher located there. Anyone familiar with those extinguishers knows that they don't just smother a fire, but they cool it down. It is almost like putting dry ice on your skin if you are hit with a blast from one.

Just as Asshole appeared to be ready to bust his nut I hit them with a first, then a second, then a third, discharge from the extinguisher. I was careful not to hit them with so much CO2 so as to permanently harm their skin, but based upon how loud their screams were, and how quickly Asshole removed his cock from my wife's pussy, it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

While they were scrambling around still screaming or moaning I retrieved the vial of my blood without getting my fingerprints on it. I didn't have to worry about the cameras since their outputs were recorded on a computer DVD in my study.

"We'll talk tomorrow about the terms of the divorce you cheating bitch," I snarled as I started to walk out of the room.

"You've had sex with more than a dozen women since we've gotten married you jerk, how dare you call me a cheater," Vivian yelled, finally recovering from the effects of the carbon dioxide.

"There's a big difference, darling wife," I snickered. "You asked me to fuck them; the last thing in the world that I'd put up with is you fucking this pompous ass." With that I rushed toward Dr. Asshole with my fist raised, and he cringed in the corner like the coward that he was. I just laughed at him and then exited.

*************

Vivian and I had an unproductive discussion the next day. There was no apology on her part, just an air of entitlement. She didn't yet know about the DVD from the night before.

My Mom put me in touch with the biggest bad-ass attorney in our city and I hired him and his female partner after talking with them for 15 minutes. They were like ravenous sharks.

I sued Vivian for breaching our confidentiality agreement (she had obviously told Dr. Asshole about it), assault for withdrawing blood from me without my permission, fraud for seeking to develop a treatment using my blood and seminal fluid without contribution, and divorce for adultery enforcing the cheating clause in our prenup. With the papers served on her just two days after I met with the attorneys were "draft complaints to the medical ethics board," that is petitions naming her and Dr. Asshole as respondents (we hadn't filed the complaints yet, they were just to let them know what would happen if they didn't play ball). So as to speed up the process, we even included a copy of the DVD.

Two days after she was served Vivian came to me in the condo guest room; we were still sharing the condo although not sleeping together, and not really communicating. She was not her normal self-confident, brash self. "Brian, can I talk to you about the lawsuits? Just us, no attorneys?" she decorously asked.

"Sure," I replied, "if you answer one question."

"OK," she hesitantly replied.

"Did you ever love me?"

She paused. She didn't know it but I knew a "tell" that she had if she was lying or nervous -- a quick flutter of her left eye that she wasn't conscious of. She didn't exhibit the "tell" when she answered me.

"No; I've never actually loved you, but then again I didn't actually love two of my other husbands either. However, I like you more than I did my other three husbands, even the one that I loved. I...I...uh...know that it doesn't make much sense, especially considering what's on the DVD. Even though it's a terrible cliché, it's my problem, not yours. I know that you really did love me and I feel regret -- probably even guilt."

I was surprised by her candor. "Thanks for answering honestly," I replied, "now what do you want to talk about?"

"Can we go into the kitchen?" she asked; "I have some papers spread out on the table,"

I was surprised at how quickly we came to an agreement; in less than two hours. She paid me the penalty provided by the confidentiality agreement, paid me the adultery penalty provided in the prenup, paid me $100,000 for the assault cause of action, agreed that if she developed an effective treatment that she would give me 20% of the profits, and split everything that our collective wealth had increased since our marriage (which was due much more to her earning power than mine) 50-50. Also she agreed in writing that I would not be breaching the confidentiality agreement if I told someone that I had a romantic relationship with about it. Finally, she agreed to convince Dr. Asshole to also pay me $100,000 for the assault cause of action against him.

Neither of us would contest the divorce, and she would pay my attorney fees.

I agreed never to report any activity of hers or Asshole's to anyone else including the medical ethics board and law enforcement, and to assign any rights I had (aside from compensation) to her for any MS treatment if ever developed.

When we were finished -- even having written up and signed everything that we agreed to -- she diabolically said "I'd love to get one last 'injection' from you."

"I'd loved to give you one," I chuckled, "but not until the divorce is final. While I sort of trust you, my attorney says sex could be seen as a reconciliation and I don't know how that would affect our agreement."

"I understand," she smiled. "However, that doesn't prevent you from kissing me or feeling me up, does it?"

I did kiss her passionately, but kept my hands off of the marvels on her chest because that would have put me over the edge and I would have fucked her right on the kitchen table.

*****************

By the time that the divorce was final (Vivian and I did have one last night together -- it was emotionally bittersweet, but as always enormously physically rewarding), I had more cash than I ever expected to have in my life. I quit work with the intention of starting my own business after a sabbatical of six months or so. One thing that I knew would get me going again was to take another wilderness trip. I even daydreamed that Cheryl was still a guide and would have a change of attitude.

Cheryl still worked for the same wilderness company and as luck would have it she, and a male guide, were taking out one more group before she left the company. I signed up as soon as I found that out, and a week later I was at the company's headquarters with all of my gear.