The Happiest I've Ever Been

Author's Note:

When Connor, a down-on-his-luck twenty-something year old man, needs to earn some extra cash, he signs up for a clinical trial taking a male birth control pill. Little does he know that the pill comes with some rather unusual (but arguably pleasant) side effects.

This is a work of fiction. The pill I've written about does not (to my knowledge) exist and I have taken some artistic license to certain scientific processes and standards for the sake of the story. It is meant to be light-hearted and humorous, and as such, do not take anything written here as medical advice. If you have an erection that lasts longer than four hours, I take full credit but accept no liability.

**

The guys nearly laughed me out of the bar when they found out I was taking No-Nutter.

The pill wasn't actually called No-Nutter. It had one of those proper science-y names, but hell if I could pronounce it. But just like everything these days, when word got out about a male birth control pill that was going into clinical trials, the details got twisted all to hell. They called it No-Nutter because some of those redneck evangelist types got it in their heads that the pill stopped you from jizzing, which isn't how it worked at all. Not at all.

Trust me.

It just stopped your jizz from having swimmers in it, kinda like if you got snipped, but without the... you know, snipping. I don't know all the details of how it works. They explained it to me when I signed up for the trial because of the informed consent and all that stuff, but I got a little lost on all the technical details. It wasn't that your body stopped making sperm or anything. The best way I could describe it is that the pill changed the sperm so it couldn't... you know, turn into a baby or something.

Whatever. It doesn't matter, not in this case, anyway.

The point is, No-Nutter didn't stop anyone from coming, but the name stuck after the misinformation got spread around by guys who were so insecure with their own masculinity that taking any sort of responsibility for their own baby gravy was deemed unmanly. And even I had to admit it was a lot catchier than "male birth control pill."

All that being said, that alone wasn't why my so-called friends were laughing at me for taking it.

"What good is No-Nutter even doing for you, Connor?" snorted Patrick. "You haven't fucked anything besides your fist for ages!"

That earned another round of obnoxious laughter and palms slapping the sticky surface of the bar table. I tried to be a good sport and chuckle with them, even though Patrick was wrong. I'd fucked things other than my fist. But I wasn't about to admit that at the table, since telling the guys that when it's been long enough, you start getting a little desperate and doing things like humping pillows and buying replicas of your favourite porn star's pussy as a Fleshlight probably wasn't going to help the situation.

And I obviously knew what Patrick meant, which was that I hadn't fucked an actual woman in ages, and that much was definitely true.

It's not like I had a lot going for me. I'd moved across the country to be with the love of my life, Stella, who I'd met on an online forum for carnivorous plant owners. She was everything I thought I wanted in a person; namely, a woman who was sort of interested in me and who also happened to really like the same kind of plants that I did. So I moved to this shitty little suburb to be with her and for six months, life was great, until I found out Stella's Venus fly trap was more of a penis fly trap.

Which was a horribly inaccurate way of saying she'd met someone else on another carnivorous plant forum, declared that she was in love with him instead, and left me in her shitty little suburb so she could move across the country to live in his shitty little suburb.

It's just the circle of life, I guess.

Anyway, I'd spent all my money moving so I didn't have much of a choice but to continue working. But since Stella had left, I had to pay way more rent so it took a lot longer to save anything up. And then by the time I'd managed to scrape some savings together, I'd kind of settled in and sort of made some friends, and it's not like there was much waiting for me back where I'd come from, so I kind of just... stayed. Things weren't great and I still couldn't look at a pitcher plant without my heart aching after what Stella did to me, but I was... you know. Surviving.

It was while I was initially trying to save some money that I'd discovered the clinical research organization between here and the city. They paid pretty decently for trials if you got accepted to them, so I'd signed up on the off-chance I qualified for anything. I mean, it's not like I was doing anything else important with my life. Might as well use my skills of "being able to swallow pills and answer questionnaires" to help other people. There weren't a lot of clinical trials looking for slightly overweight guys in their mid-twenties, but I'd done a couple of surveys and it wasn't a bad way to make a little extra cash.

That is, until the No-Nutter trial started.

I qualified for that one because I said I probably wasn't gonna fuck anyone for a while. Embarrassing, right? But they wanted to make sure that if the pill wasn't effective or something weird happened to my jizz, I wasn't going to get some girl pregnant with a flipper baby or something.

"It's highly unlikely," explained the doctor running the trial as she talked me through the paperwork. "But since we're still early in the trials, better safe than sorry. Even still, on the off-chance you manage to find a sexual partner, just remember to inform them that you're taking the pill. We suggest using a second form of birth control, but as the test isn't on the efficacy of the medication, it shouldn't affect the results of the trial."

"Any other side effects I should watch for?" I had asked, trying not to be insulted by her accurate-but-unnecessary statement regarding the likelihood of me finding a sexual partner.

"A few," she said nonchalantly. "In the first few weeks of use, you may experience dry mouth, hallucinations, dizziness, constipation, diarrhea, insomnia, drowsiness, fatigue, or excess energy. Some rare longer-term side effects have included hair loss, anosmia, chronic heart palpitations, reduced sex drive, sleepwalking, intense sexual urges, and weight loss. There are currently studies underway about the possibility of excreting strong pheromones, specifically sociosexual, but there is no concrete evidence on that yet. We've also had some participants report changes to the texture, scent, and the, ah... flavour of the seminal fluid over the course of a few weeks."

"Oh," I said.

"It's highly unlikely," she continued. "But should you note any differences, please record them and let your coordinator know."

"I will," I said, knowing damn well I wasn't going to be able to tell them if my jizz tasted any fucking different than it usually did.

The first few days on No-Nutter weren't bad. I hated to admit it, but some of those anti-birth-control rants had made me a little nervous with their claims. Not that I thought it was some big conspiracy to sterilize men or start feminizing us or something, but you can't help but worry a little when people are claiming the pill could cause cancer or personality changes or the unlikely-but-terrifying-to-think-about chance of your dick falling off.

The doctor assured me that no one in the entire history of the drug had experienced their dick falling off and that included all the mice and other animals that had been through the trials, and it wasn't even like this was the first round of human trials. But there were hundreds of men online claiming that the Big Pharma company behind No-Nutter was hiding piles of withered dicks somewhere, and logically I knew that probably wasn't true, but it was still scary to think about.

Luckily, my dick didn't fall off. In fact, I was pretty lucky with the first few days of side effects. I was as horny as I usually was, which was basically constantly because I hadn't had sex in fucking ages, but at least it meant that my sex drive wasn't affected. Better than that, though, was that I was sleeping insanely well. And I don't mean like I was sleeping all the time; I was going to bed later and waking up earlier and had way more energy, to the point that I had actually started using the complimentary gym membership my boss had for all his staff and working out before work.

Before work. In the morning! Like a fuckin' gym bro or something.

I mean, I still didn't really know what to do with all the weights and shit, and I could only last about ten minutes on the treadmill before my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest, but I was trying, and there weren't usually many people around so it wasn't too embarrassing.

Truthfully, the side effects were... good. For the first time since Stella had left, I felt like I was doing more than just surviving. Things were going so well that first week that I almost considered going out to a nearby greenhouse to see if they had any bug-eaters in stock to replace the collection Stella had taken with her when she left me for that other douchebag.

Then the guys found out I was taking No-Nutter because I sort of told them I was taking No-Nutter.

"You would never catch me taking that shit," Bobby said as we sat around the bar, drinking away another Friday night as we watched hockey. It was between periods and the commentators were talking about one of the players who'd signed on to endorse it since everyone knew hockey players had shit-tons of money and a lineup of chicks waiting to fuck them.

"Me neither," Patrick said. "Fucking unnatural."

"How's it any different than a woman taking it?" asked Dave.

"If a woman doesn't want a baby, she can take her own fuckin' pill," Bobby said.

"So you'd rather risk a kid on some one-night stand's claim she's really on the pill?" Dave asked.

"Or just wear condoms the rest of your life?" I added.

"I'm not wearing a goddamn condom just because some woman doesn't want to take responsibility for her own body."

"Wow, the women must just love you," I replied.

Bobby raised his eyebrows at me. "Look at you, all snarky tonight. The fuck's gotten into you, Connor?"

I felt my face turning red. "Nothing. Just don't see why you wouldn't try to protect yourself from having a kid you don't want."

"Not my problem." He took a swig of beer and glugged it back.

"Till she gets knocked up and you got child support payments and shit," Dave said. "Nah man, I got lucky the one time with that girl Kenzie 'cause the condom broke and she wasn't sure if she wanted to keep it or whatnot, and let me tell you I was just sweatin' until she decided she didn't want the thing, so all it cost me was gas money to the city and whatever the procedure cost. 'Least if I'm taking the pill, I know it's less likely and shit, you know?"

"Yeah, till your dick falls off," scoffed Patrick.

"It doesn't make your dick fall off," I said.

"How would you know?" he shot back.

"None of your business," I muttered.

"Nah, you think you know so much about it, tell us how you know," Bobby added.

"I just know."

"How, Connor? You some kind of researcher now? Thought you worked at the carwash."

My face was turning red. "I just know, okay?"

"I would think you, of all people, wouldn't want your dick to fall off before you get a chance to use it again," Patrick said loudly. "Don't tell me you're takin' No-Nutter."

"Yeah, I am, and my dick is right where I left it," I snapped.

I shouldn't've said it, 'cause that's when they started laughing so loud, half the bar was turning towards us to see what the commotion was, including the table of hot girls sitting two down from us. I recognized a couple of them vaguely from around town: the tall brunette with killer legs who worked at the bank and drove a yellow Sunfire she only washed every couple of months, the one with light-brown hair and a girl-next-door smile and gigantic fuckin' tits who was a barista at the coffee shop, and Angel.

Fuckin' Angel.

I'd been in love with Stella when I moved here, but if I hadn't, I would've fallen head over heels for Angel, which is what happened after Stella broke my heart. Angel was my cup of tea in every way possible. She had golden hair--not blonde, blonde wasn't a beautiful enough word for the colour of Angel's hair--and huge blue eyes like something out of an anime. Every girl sitting at that table was hot and had a body to die for, but Angel had the kind of body I'd've spent hours upon hours worshipping if she was the kind of person who would sleep with someone like me, which she absolutely wasn't.

Still, that had never stopped me from daydreaming--and wet dreaming--about her sexy little body with its perfect curves and smooth, glowing skin. That had never stopped me from picturing her full, pouty lips in excruciating detail, imagining how soft they would be and how sweet they would taste and how fucking sexy they'd look wrapped around my cock.

I'd never imagined them pressed together as she met my eye, trying not to laugh as Patrick blurted out that not only was I on No-Nutter, but that my sex life consisted of me and my good friend Palmela Handerson.

That was what they did that night, though, and I felt like every cell in my body was withering and shrinking and cringing as she and her friends stifled their giggles.

"You gotta be fuckin' with us," Bobby said after his roars of laughter had faded.

"I just told you he isn't fuckin' anything," Patrick replied, nearly crying he was laughing so hard.

"You can all go fuck yourselves," I muttered, pulling my wallet out and throwing some cash on the table. "I'm going home."

"So you can go fuck yourself?" Bobby asked, and they were still howling as I left the bar, determinedly not looking at Angel and her friends.

If I'd been the kind of guy who had other friends or a decent personality or even just some self-respect, I probably would've stopped being friends with them. I mean, they knew how humiliating that was. Patrick and Bobby weren't especially good people. I knew that. Dave knew that, too, but he was kinda like me in that he didn't really have any other friends.

I spent the weekend trying to pretend like I was pissed at them and that our friendship was over. I went to that greenhouse to see if there were any carnivorous plants, but the owner said they were vegan so they didn't carry any. Then I thought maybe I'd go to the gym and walk on the treadmill for a while, but the barista with the big tits was on the elliptical, so I went home and resolved to sit around, watching TV and playing video games.

When Monday rolled around, I got out of bed and went to the gym. It had only been a couple of weeks, but it was already starting to get easier each time I went. I hadn't really noticed any changes or anything, so maybe it was all in my head, but I didn't mind all that much.

Work went. The carwash wasn't exactly the easiest place to chat with people; it was too loud and customers tended to be a bit more focused on cleaning their cars than they were chatting with the dude who went around hosing the excess suds off the concrete. But for some reason, people were a lot friendlier that week. Most of the people who came in said hello and asked how I was doing. On Tuesday, a couple of guys waved me over to show off their Mustang and ask what I thought of the new paint job on it, like I was someone who knew anything about cars and paint. On Wednesday, the brunette from the bank came in to wash her Sunfire and I wasn't fast enough to dart away without her seeing me. I thought she might just laugh at me again, but she bit her lip and threw her hand up to get my attention.

"Can you help me?" she asked.

"Uh... sure," I mumbled, reluctantly heading over to her bay.

"Thank you," she said, sounding relieved. "I know this is going to sound so stupid, but I can never remember how to turn the thingie from rinse to suds."

"You, uh, just... just turn this dial," I said, trying not to make her feel stupid even though it was incredibly stupid. "From where it says 'rinse' to where it says 'suds.'"

"Oh, right," she said, letting out a high-pitched giggle as she shook her head. "Thank you. I'm so sorry to bother you."

"It's okay," I said, trying not to sound too suspicious.

The brunette smiled prettily at me. "I see you around all the time. You're Connor, right?"

"That's what my name tag says."

"I'm Brittany." She extended her hand and, not knowing what else to do, I shook it. "Nice to officially meet you."

"You too." I cleared my throat and let go of her hand. "I should, uh, get back to work."

"See you around, Connor!" she said, and when I glanced back at her a few minutes later, she was turning the dial from 'suds' to 'carnauba wax.'

I thought maybe people were being friendlier that week because word had gotten around about what happened at the bar on Friday and they felt bad for me or something. I couldn't figure out why suddenly everyone was interested in talking to me or telling me their names or whatever. In all the time I'd lived here, I'd only met a few people: namely, Bobby, Patrick, and Dave. It was kind of suspicious, so I withdrew even more than I usually did, and after work I would just go home, eat dinner, watch more TV, and go to bed far later than I used to.

At least I was still sleeping well, anyway.

Even with all the niceness, that week just served as a reminder of how lonely this fucking place was. So when the following weekend rolled around and Patrick called, acting like nothing had happened and asking if I wanted to join them to watch the game on Friday, I agreed to it, since at least they hadn't changed how they were acting around me.

At all.

"Hey, Connor!" Bobby said loudly as I walked up to the table. "How's the No-Nutter treating you? Your dick fall off yet?"

And just like he expected, given the shit-eating grin on his face, half the bar turned and looked at me to see if I'd stand up for myself or show just how little self-respect I had and tuck myself into the empty seat at the table. Of course, that just made it even harder to decide what to do. Did I let everyone stare as I slunk out of the bar while losing the only people who were even close to being my friends?

Or did I sit down, knowing that behind me, people were shaking their heads and wondering if No-Nutter turned people into giant pussies or if it was just me?

Or did I take the third option that I could have never even imagined, which was presented by way of a woman making an offended scoffing sound from a few tables over?

"Wow, you are a real prick, aren't you?"

Both Bobby and I turned, which meant we saw her sitting at the table with her friends at the same time. She was looking at Bobby, her pouty lips turned down and slight wrinkles marring her gorgeous skin as she frowned at him.

"Aw, I was just kidding, Angel," Bobby said, chuckling. "He knows that."

"Does he?" She looked over at me, folding her arms across her chest. "Is he joking, Connor?"

Between the shock of hearing Angel say my name, the way she was looking at me, and the fact that when she folded her arms, her cleavage nearly popped out of her low-cut shirt, I forgot what words were.

"Uh," I said. "Well, uh..."

Her face softened and she uncrossed her arms.

"Why don't you come sit with us instead?" she asked, motioning at the empty spot between her and the barista. "I promise we're a lot nicer than your so-called friends."

"And hotter, too," the barista added.

Well, that was true. I glanced back at Bobby, who looked stunned, and Patrick, who was openly gaping at the unfolding scene. Dave was smirking, his eyebrows raised, and as I caught his eye, he tilted his head subtly.