The Freak

My ego got a real lift when introductions were being made and she looked me in the eye and said "You're Brian, aren't you? Didn't I take you out on an adventure about three years ago?"

"In fact you did, Cheryl," I chuckled. "Was I such a klutz that you remembered me?"

"Maybe," she laughed.

Cheryl was so much friendlier and more approachable than the first time that I had to ask the male guide about it. "Two-three years ago she was in a relationship and hated guys hitting on her. She's no longer in a relationship and doesn't mind polite fishing," he chuckled.

With Cheryl's new attitude, and with my enhanced self-confidence considering everything that had happened to me over the last three years, we seemed to hit it off.

There was a problem, however. After we were out about three days Cheryl stumbled several times -- fortunately I or the male guide caught her before she hit the ground each time. Also, at night she complained of fatigue. That was unlike the Cheryl who guided my first wilderness excursion.

The third night that she expressed fatigue I asked to have a one-on-one talk with her. "Cheryl, your fatigue and stumbling really concern me," I started out.

"I'm sure it's just a virus or something," she sluffed off my comment.

"Since I last saw you I have been working with neurologists almost full time, and have gotten to know a lot about conditions that have fatigue and stumbling as symptoms. I really think that we should call for a helicopter extraction and I'll go with you to a neurologist," I seriously said.

She again tried to make light of it but after another fifteen minutes of conversation she agreed that if she didn't feel or function any better by noon of the next day she'd do as I recommended.

When at ten o'clock the next morning Cheryl would have stumbled off a cliff if I hadn't caught her, the male guide and I insisted that she be evacuated. He called for a helicopter and when it came I demanded that I accompany her.

When we got back to headquarters, I had Cheryl get a few changes of clothes and then drove her to the nearest big city. Working with and around Vivian I had gotten to know who the top neurologists on the East Coast were, and by name dropping and begging was able to get an appointment two days later with one of the best. In the meantime I got us two hotel rooms -- which I insisted on paying for despite her protests -- and we saw sites when she wasn't fatigued.

I was in the waiting room while Cheryl went in to see the neurologist. Unfortunately, I was right about her condition. The doctor told her that she had MS.

Cheryl was crying as we left the doctor's office. Between tears she asked, "Is that what you expected?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I didn't want to tell you until it was confirmed but I worked with MS patients for more than two years, and you had classic symptoms. There is a silver lining, though."

"What?" she snapped.

"Let's get back to your hotel room and I'll tell you," I said.

Cheryl was quiet until we got to the hotel. Then I sent her to her room and told her I'd be back in five minutes with some information that she might find uplifting. "Maybe -- maybe not," was how I put it.

When I returned to Cheryl's room with me I had a copy of the first draft of the article Vivian had written for publication in a medical journal. I showed it to Cheryl and asked her to read it.

Cheryl read it, but I could tell that she was confused by it. I went over it with her explaining each part in detail. When I was finished she understood what it said but asked "What has this got to do with me?"

"The guy euphemistically referred to as 'The Injector' in the article; that's me."

After a pause she sniped "Look, Brian; I've had just about every line by a guy to get into my pants, but this bullshit tops them all."

"Bullshit, huh?" I chuckled. "Would you believe the author?"

She nodded her head but didn't verbally respond.

I got out my cell phone and called Vivian's cellphone number. It went to voicemail. I called her office and told her receptionist Dee, who I had had a good working relationship with, that I needed "to talk to Dr. Vivian Hampton as soon as possible;" I said her full name just for Cheryl's benefit. Dee told me that she was with a patient but would likely be done in five minutes. Dee promised to have her promptly call me back.

After I terminated the call with Dee I turned to Cheryl and said "When Dr. Hampton calls back I first want you to ask her bio questions that appear in the preamble to the article to confirm that it's her. Then I want you to ask her specific questions about statements in the draft article. Once you confirm that it must be her I want you to ask her who 'The Injector' is."

Cheryl and I didn't talk while she reviewed the article for the next five-ten minutes before Vivian called back. "Hi, Dr. Hampton," I answered the phone. "Thanks for calling back." After briefly describing the situation to her I handed my phone to Cheryl. She asked all of the questions I had proposed and after they were answered she weakly said "Thank you Dr. Hampton," and handed the phone back to me.

I too thanked Vivian and then terminated the call.

Cheryl locked eyes with me. "This isn't bullshit, is it?"

"No, Cheryl, I swear it's not; it's genuine," I responded.

She got a weak smile on her face and started taking off her clothes...

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

Vivian called me about two years after my first spectacular sexual experience with Cheryl. By that time Cheryl and I had been married about eighteen months, and we were expecting our first baby. I was happy as a pig in shit; I mean how many guys can marry two 10s in their life, and I truly expected to be married to this 10 the rest of my life.

Vivian's called to tell me that the MS treatment pills she had been working on using my blood and seminal fluid was only very marginally successful; it relieved about 10-15% of the symptoms. Not bad, but no panacea. It was too expensive to make given its marginal success so there would be no big payday for either of us at the end of the day.

To my surprise -- but maybe I shouldn't have been -- Vivian asked if we could meet and "have a couple of sessions for old times' sake" since her MS symptoms were now only mitigated about 25%. I politely declined, thanked her for calling, and didn't expect to hear from her ever again.

I wasn't the least bit surprised by the failure of the treatment Vivian developed. You see there was something that I knew that I had never told Vivian. The reason that Subject K in our experiments had such poor results was that she didn't orgasm when we fucked. I was certain that whatever chemicals that were involved from my seminal fluid, and probably the ethanol consumed by the subject, were modified in some way by the chemicals released or consumed by the subject's orgasm and without a corresponding orgasm the results weren't nearly as good.

"What was that call about," my beautiful beaming big-bellied wife asked me once I terminated the call.

Before Cheryl and I got married she was 100% symptom free and to be completely forthcoming I had told her that Vivian and I had once been married, so she may have been suspicious of the reason for Vivian's call.

I turned to Cheryl with a big grin on my face, gently rubbed her belly, and then said "Dr. Hampton thinks that you need another 'injection,' and right now."

"You animal," she giggled as I started fingering her pussy and exposing her pregnancy-enhanced mammary glands.

God it's great to be The Freak!