Unorthodox Protocol

My name is Mike Peters. I'm a biochemistry grad student at UCLA. I work in the lab of Dr. Jane Talbot. Dr. Talbot is a tenured professor at UCLA and an amazing researcher. She personally has at least seven drug patents to her name. We'd been working on a synthetic hormone called estrogen-g. Estrogen-g mimicked the effects of normal estrogen in the human body, so it showed great promise as a drug both for regulating ovulation and reducing the effects of menopause.

We'd already run a full suite of animal experiments. All that remained to test it on humans. There was nothing to indicate that there was any danger in giving estrogen-g to a human patient, but as with any drug we wouldn't know for sure until we actually tried it.

Unfortunately, setting up a human trial for a new drug is expensive and time-consuming. But the clock was ticking; our grant was about to run out. We were under a lot of pressure from the department to demonstrate a positive result as soon as possible, and that's why Dr. Talbot decided to test estrogen-g on herself. Assuming that everything went as expected, that would give us something new to write up, and allow us to wrangle an extension on the grant, so we could do proper human studies.

We decided we'd start the test on a Friday afternoon. That way if Jane did suffer any adverse side effects, she'd have the whole weekend to sleep them off. I originally thought we'd administer the drug in our lab at the university, but Jane convinced me to come to her home in the Valley instead.

"I'm probably just being paranoid," she said. "But if we're going to break university rules, it's better not to do it on university property."

I'd never been to Jane's house before. It was a tiny little bungalow nestled in a valley south of Encino. I parked on the street and walked up the steps. Jane was waiting for me at the top with the front door open.

"How was the 405?" she said.

"Ha. A nightmare ... as always."

"Come on in, I've just been setting up."

She'd moved her kitchen table in the middle of the living room and laid out a variety of supplies--a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff, a thermometer and a flashlight for testing pupil dilation, a notebook and a pencil. Off to one side was a small pill bottle--the estrogen-g.

Jane was dressed more casually than usual--just blue jeans and a short-sleeved checked cotton shirt with the shirttails untucked. She had her long dark hair pulled back in a pony tail. She was in her stocking feet, so I kicked my own shoes off at the door before I stepped inside.

"So, we're really doing this, huh?" I said.

"We're really doing this. I've made up a bed just in case you need to stay over. I hope you don't mind the couch. I've only got one bedroom."

"I don't mind the couch, but I still wish you'd let me be the guinea pig. It was my idea after all."

Jane shook her head.

"No, as a woman, I'm the logical choice. I'm sure nothing will happen. I suspect we have a long, boring evening ahead of us."

We took some preliminary vitals to establish a baseline. Everything was perfectly normal. Jane was almost disgusting healthy.

Then came the moment of truth.

Jane opened the pill bottle and spilled a little estrogen-g into the palm of her hand. The drug was in the form of purple crystals, about the size of grains of kosher salt.

"I think three to start," Jane said. "That's about 5 milligrams.

"Remember not to swallow. The stomach acid will degrade it."

"Thank you, doctor," Jane said sarcastically.

She opened her mouth and slipped the crystals under her tongue to dissolve. After a few seconds she made a face.

"Bleh! Bitter!"

"Well now we wait, I suppose ...," I said.

"Now we wait."

Jane sat down at her computer to check her email. I recorded the time. It was a little after four in the afternoon.

It was a weird being in Jane's living room. Despite working alongside her for years, I hardly knew anything about her personal life. Her house was tidy, but there were books everywhere--filling up the bookcases and spilling out into piles on the hardwood floors. The furnishings were mostly grad-student thrift with a few nicer pieces mixed in--a craftsman-style recliner, a modernist floor lamp. She had a framed Shag print on the wall.

It was a no-nonsense house. A comfortable house. I liked it.

I wandered over to the side window and looked out. There was a secluded brick patio with several overgrown rosemary bushes in terracotta urns. They were obviously well-watered despite their wildness. There was a yoga mat on the brick among the rosemary, and I suddenly had a glimpse of what Jane's morning routine must be like.

A chair scraped behind me. I turned around to see Jane standing up.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," she said with a laugh. "I just need to use the bathroom."

She vanished into the back of the house.

I flopped down on the couch and got out my phone. I scrolled through Twitter, reading news. I guess I lost track of time. Five, maybe ten minutes passed. Suddenly I heard a noise and looked up.

Jane was standing in the hall in her stocking feet, holding her jeans in one hand. Her cheeks were flushed and she had a disoriented expression on her face.

"Are you okay?" I said.

She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. She started to say something, then stopped. The jeans slipped from her fingers and fell on a heap on the floor. Her bare legs were slim and pale and I could just see her pink cotton panties peeking out from underneath her shirttails.

She pushed off from the wall and walked unsteadily toward me, stopping just a few feet away. Her breathing was short and shallow, her chest rising and falling.

"I feel ... weird," she said.

"Weird? Like how?"

"Lightheaded ... a little dizzy."

"Sit down, and I'll get you some water ...."

I went into the kitchen and filled a glass from the faucet. When I came back out into the living room, she was still standing by the couch, staring distractedly off into the distance. She'd taken the elastic out of her ponytail and her hair fell in loose, dark waves across her shoulders.

All of a sudden, I was struck by how pretty she was. I mean, I guess on some level I'd always known Jane was attractive but I'd never really dwelled on it. She was my advisor, after all--trying anything with her would have been totally inappropriate.

But seeing her here now ... like this with her hair down and her legs bare ... it stirred something inside me. God, she was sexy. I'd never seen a woman look so sexy before, and all she was doing was standing there in her stocking feet! I had this sudden urge to take her in my arms ... to drag her to the floor ... to pull those little pink panties down ....

"Hey, is that for me?"

"Huh?" I glanced down at the glass of water, embarrassed by what I'd just been thinking. "Oh, yeah, here."

Jane walked over and took the glass from me. She gulped it down quickly, water dribbling from her chin. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and then she gave me the strangest look. Her eyes were shining. Bright and eager.

"How do you feel now?" I asked.

"Still lightheaded ... and I have this strange crawling sensation all over my skin."

She reached out and took my hand and pressed it against her forehead.

"Am I hot? I feel like I'm running a fever."

"You're a little warm ...."

"We should be documenting this. Where's the notebook?"

I picked it up off the table, and Jane started dictating.

"Ten minutes after receiving a 5-milligram sublingual dose of estrogen-g the test subject reported feeling feverish. This was accompanied by lightheadedness and increased skin sensitivity."

I took her temperature. It was 99.5, a little high but not dangerous. Her blood pressure was slightly elevated and her pulse and her breathing were both rapid. I tested her pupils and her reflexes--both were completely normal. Whatever was happening, it didn't seem to be affecting her nervous system.

"Check my heartbeat," she said.

I got the stethoscope. Jane unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirt, baring the top of her chest. She was wearing a plain pink bra that matched her panties. As I touched the metal of the stethoscope to the upper curve of her left breast she flinched.

"Cold," she said, smiling.

"Sorry."

Her heartbeat was strong and regular. I shifted the stethoscope to one side and listened again. She was standing so close to me. I was suddenly acutely conscious of just how little she had on. No pants, no shoes, shirt unbuttoned. I could make out the outline of her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra. Her nipples were hard.

Her skin was so warm and soft. I imagined myself stripping off her shirt, unhooking her bra, pulling down her panties, and bending her over the table ....

"Uh ... how's my heart?"

I jerked my head up in surprise. I realized I'd been standing there in a daze. My cock was hard.

"Sorry. Fine. Ticking like a clock."

I turned sheepishly and put the stethoscope away, hoping she didn't notice the bulge in my pants.

"Well," I said. "Except for the increase in metabolism you seem perfectly normal."

I picked up the notebook and started writing down the results. Jane came up and stood next to me.

"There's ... well ... one other thing you should write down."

I turned and glanced at her.

"Yes?"

She looked acutely embarrassed.

"The test subject is experiencing ... um ... there's no delicate way to say this ... an abnormal level of sexual arousal."

I swallowed hard. That made two of us.

Jane went on. "This arousal is manifesting itself through all the standard indicators of female sexual receptivity: vaginal lubrication, labial swelling, and clitoral erection. Her nipples are fully erect and sensitive to the touch ...."

She was standing so close to me I could practically feel the heat coming off her body. Had her eyes always been that green? Had her lips always been so full?

"... Aside from her physiological response, the subject is also experiencing uncontrollable and persistent ideation of an erotic nature. This ideation manifests itself as a wide range of vivid sexual fantasies, from isolated images of naked bodies and genitalia, to complete scenarios where the subject is an active and willing participant ...."

I scribbled furiously in the notebook, trying to keep up. Jane's voice had a dreamy, detached quality.

"... In the most common scenario she's down on all fours, completely naked. Her hips are elevated, presenting her genitals to a group of males. It's a textbook example of the lordosis posture that female primates adopt during estrus to indicate receptivity ...."

I stopped writing. "Estrus?" I said.

Jane nodded and licked her lips. "I know this sounds crazy, Mike. But I think I might be going into heat."

"But humans ... women ... don't go into heat ...."

"Not now, no. But millions of years ago we did ... or our ancestors did. I think the estrogen-g might have activated a neural pathway that's been dormant in human beings for thousands of generations ... oh!"

Her hands fluttered in front of her. She bit her lip. I took a step toward her, but she waved me away.

"Oh ... oh wow ... it's ... uh ... getting stronger."

"Getting stronger? How?"

"My clothes feel ... how to describe it? They feel ... wrong."

She looked up at me. There was fear in her eyes--fear and shame.

"Mike, I'm not sure if I can control this ...."

She stood rigid; her fists clenched. A shudder ran through her body. She gasped and stumbled, almost falling. Her eyes darted wildly from side to side.

"Are you okay?" I said.

She shook her head.

"No ... I'm not. I'm very much not okay. I've got to ...."

Her hands fumbled frantically at the buttons to her shirt. With a whimper she stripped it off and flung it away.

"Jane!" I cried.

She clawed at the clasp to her bra. It popped open, exposing her small breasts. Her nipples were dark brown and very hard. I watched in amazement as she started fondling them right in front of me, pinching them and twisting them. She looked at me with desperation in her eyes.

"Help me," she said.

I stood frozen, uncertain what I could ... or should ... do. My biochemist's mind was racing, trying to figure out if there was anything I could do to counteract the effects of the estrogen-g. But at the same time, I was transfixed by Jane's near-naked body. I had never seen a woman give off such powerful sexual signals before. Her arousal was like a physical presence in the room. It would be so easy for me to take her ... to push her down on all fours ... to mount her ....

My cock was throbbing. I dropped the notebook and took a step forward, grabbing her arms. With a sigh she melted against me, rubbing her body against mine. She was making soft cooing noises. She pressed her head against my chest, and I hugged her tight. My head was spinning. I could smell a strange scent, something musky and feral and intoxicating. It was like the most amazing perfume imaginable, a combination of some exotic spice and the scent of wet pussy.

Pheromones. The word drifted through my fogged brain. The whole point of estrus was to signal sexual receptivity. If it could cause such a huge behavioral change, why couldn't it cause a biochemical change as well? Why couldn't induce the woman's body to give off an olfactory marker designed to trigger a matching sexual response in a nearby male? Just as the estrogen-g had kicked Jane's mating drive into high gear, whatever unknown pheromone she was giving off was doing the same thing to mine.

I knew this was dangerous. I should try to stop what was happening. I should get out of the bungalow into the fresh air so I could clear my head. But I couldn't tear myself away from her. I ran my hands down the delicious curve of her bare back and Jane purred in response. She straddled my thigh, grinding her cotton-covered crotch against the top of my leg. Her hands slipped up under my shirt. The touch of her fingertips on my naked skin was like an electric shock.

I fell to my knees and pressed my nose to the front of her panties, inhaling deeply. I could smell how wet she was. The crotch was soaked through. I hooked my fingers in the lacy waistband and dragged her underwear down her slender legs. Jane's bush was a dark tangle, starkly contrasting with the paleness of her skin. Except for her black ankle socks, she was completely naked.

She placed her hand on the back of my head and pushed my face directly into her crotch. Without her panties her scent was even stronger. Each time I inhaled it was like mainlining some powerful drug--which, in a way, I suppose I was. Under the influence of the cocktail of biochemicals Jane was secreting, I could feel my rational mind slipping away, being replaced by something more ancient and primal. My cock was as rigid as an iron rod, painfully erect, straining against the front of my pants. I tried to speak, to warn her of the effect she was having on me, but I discovered I'd lost the ability to form words. All that came out was a ragged moan. I rubbed my face deliriously against her hairy mound, covering myself in her intoxicating musk.

I needed to take off my clothes, but somehow, I'd forgotten how. Frustrated, I ripped open the front of my shirt, baring my chest and sending buttons flying. As I struggled with my fly, Jane dropped to the floor in front of me. Her face was a mask of lust--eyes half-lidded, mouth slack, cheeks flushed. She turned and rested her elbows on the floor, arching her back so that her rump was in the air. She was presenting herself to me, inviting me to fuck her. Her knees were far apart, her vulva on blatantly on display. Her open sex was like a flower in bloom, the petals of her labia pink and swollen.

With one brutal yank, I dragged my jeans down my legs. My cock sprung out; rock hard, thickly veined. The head was purple and shiny with pre-cum. Frantic with desire, I crawled on my hands and knees to where Jane was waiting, and buried my face in her raw, open cunt. Jane shuddered with pleasure. I stuck my tongue deep inside her, making her groan. Crazy with lust, I licked her with broad strokes, lapping up her juices until they ran down my chin.

Jane had one cheek pressed against the hardwood floor. She was making a hoarse, guttural sound that was barely human. I couldn't hold back any more. I grabbed her hips and mounted her, the big head of my cock sliding easily between her swollen lips. Her pussy felt amazing--warm and wet, slick and tight. Jane moaned as I penetrated her.

She pushed back against me. She wanted it as much as I did. Maybe more. She was operating purely on instinct now. The there was no scrap of rationality left, no trace of the brilliant biochemist, no trace of my colleague and adviser. The estrogen-g had reduced her to rutting animal--down on all fours, hair in her face, tits hanging down, frantic to have my cock in her cunt.

I was scarcely any better off. I was barely aware of what I was doing. My universe had contracted to consist entirely of Jane's pussy--her warm, wet, tight little pussy. Oh, fuck! It felt so good to be inside her. My cock felt huge, this massive heavy thickness. All I could think about was getting as far up inside her as possible. I held her pelvis tight and thrust deep, making her cry out. The sound of her moans made me even crazier. Yes, fuck, take it. Fucking take all of it you little whore.

There was no finesse at all to how I fucked her, just long straight strokes, my cock pounding in and out of her tight, slick cunt. I didn't last long -- maybe thirty seconds--before the orgasm hit me. It was like an electric shock, my entire body convulsing as I pumped a full load of sperm deep inside her.

Only when I shot my last spurt did I relax my grip on her hips. I slithered out and collapsed on the floor behind her, spent and panting, stunned at what had just happened.

Jane moaned with frustration. I'd cum, but she hadn't, and she was still deeply under the influence of the estrogen-g. She crawled over to me and nuzzled frantically against me, rubbing her body against mine. Overcome by lust, she'd lost any sense of modesty. She was completely oblivious to her nudity, to the trail of cum that was dribbling out of her gaping pussy.

I flopped over onto my back, and Jane squatted over me, her feet planted flat on the floor, thighs open wide. She rubbed her sticky open cunt against my half-hard cock and to my amazement, I started to rise. Before I was even fully hard, she stuffed me inside.

We were fucking again, this time with Jane in control. She was riding me, rolling her hips as she took me deep. I watched her bouncing tits, mesmerized. This was so good. This was so fucking good.

I started to thrust, jerking my pelvis up off the floor to ram my cock even deeper inside her dripping cunt. Jane was vocalizing, making a series of guttural grunts.

"Unh ... Unh ... unh ... unh ... unh!"

Her orgasm was epic in its intensity. She moaned and shuddered, the muscles in her strong thighs twitching and spasming. Her pussy clenched tight around my throbbing cock. It felt like she was trying to milk the cum out of me.

I shot my remaining load deep inside her.

The next couple of hours were a blur. We never left the living room. I fucked Jane in every position imaginable. Sometimes she was on top of me and sometimes I was on top of her. I lost track of how many times I came.

The next thing I was aware of was the morning sun peeping in through the patio windows.

I was sprawled on my back with Jane draped over me. Her head was on my chest and she was snuggled up against me, our legs intertwined.

"Hello," she purred, looking up at me.

The pressure in my bladder finally prompted me to get up. I rose unsteadily to my feet and staggered to the bathroom, my dick flopping around. The situation was so surreal. Here I was, buck naked in my faculty advisor's home, while Jane herself was lying on the living room floor behind me, just as naked.