Unleashing the Power of Compound 606: A Desperate Professor's Wild Ride

Please refer to Compound 606, Chapter 1 for background

Author’s note: terribly sorry for the long absence. I have a couple chapters sketched out and an idea of where to take the story, so I’ll try to get a few up this week. This one is a shorter installment to get things going again.

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I spent the morning back at my apartment, going back through the notes that my friend and one-time collaborator Marko left me regarding Compound 606, and also compiling what I knew about it. The compound seemed to work by (permanently?) altering production of some inert chemicals in sweat glands, releasing a powerful pheromone-like chemical into the air. This chemical acted to make nearby people extremely suggestible, but they were not conscious of this state, and believed that they were following suggestions because they wanted to. My girlfriend Sarah was usually very uptight in bed, but blew me like a happy whore this morning and then acted like it was her idea all along. It was a pleasant memory and I reveled in it for a moment. She also acted more sexual in general, beyond any suggestions I had given, which seemed like a potential additional effect of the pheromones. Finally, Marko had noted that a subject had forgotten an encounter on command, so I asked Sarah to forget I was there this morning. I had yet to test if she actually did. I had easily convinced a doorman to ignore security protocol and a taxi driver to give me a free ride, which made me pretty sure there was a real effect going on, and I was curious to push it further if I could. I had to be a little careful – Marko fled the country, apparently worried about what he was hearing from the Department of Defense. As far as I can tell, no-one knows I have the sample he prepared, and I’ll have to keep it that way.

My first problem was what to do with the sample and the lab notebooks. I wasn’t willing to destroy them, but I could not be caught with them, and Marko took precautions to keep them away from his advisors. I went down to a bank on a corner and got a safety deposit box and put the vial and notebooks inside. Not perfect, but easy and better than nothing.

The next issue is that I had to at least show my face around the lab this morning or people would wonder what was wrong. It was pushing 9 AM now, so I took a quick shower, threw on some casual clothes, and took a cab to campus, again getting a free ride. A man could get used to these things…

After I arrived, I decided I didn’t feel like working today. I popped my head in a lab tech’s office and chatted with him for a few minutes, then asked him, almost jokingly, if he wouldn’t mind doing all my experiments for me for the next week. “No problem, should I just email you the results?” was the quick reply. Freedom!

I headed across campus and walked into a coffee shop. There was a pretty long line for the late morning coffee rush. I hadn’t yet tried out giving suggestions to more than one person yet, but I called out to the crowd, “Sorry, I’m in a hurry, I need to order next.” For what seemed like a long instant, everyone paused and looked at me, but then the entire line stepped aside, and the gray-haired professor at the front of the line waved me forward to take his spot. Jackpot! After ordering a large black coffee I told the barista it would be on the house, to which she immediately agreed.

I was teaching first year graduate students a couple times a week, and there were a few hotties in the class I wouldn’t mind getting to know better – especially now that I had compound 606 coursing through my veins. One in particular stood out in my mind. Kristie was a younger, hotter, blonder version of my current girlfriend Sarah. She was straight out of undergrad, probably age 22, slightly above average in height, athletic and slim, and blessed with a small, tight ass that just popped in the tight jeans she preferred to wear. She had dirty blond hair that was always pulled into a loose high ponytail and skin a shade darker than one would expect from her otherwise Nordic features. Her face was simply gorgeous, with flawless skin, large, expressive, gray-blue eyes, and a perpetual mischievous grin. Like Sarah, she was a former college athlete (an all-star in soccer at Stanford) and she moved like a predator on the prowl: smooth, effortless, without wasted motion. It’s hard to describe her in a way other than “hot,” but I’ll try: if girls were cars, Sarah might be a Lexus – nice, pretty, reliable, appealing, great-car-don’t-get-me-wrong – but Kristie would be a Ferrari – a rare feat of human engineering and artistry that takes a special effort to not gawk at inappropriately. I couldn’t help but crack a pervy grin imagining the things I would do with the perfectly tuned machine that was her body.

Still wearing a loopy smile, I sat down at a table in the common space watching the first years mill about between classes. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I saw I had a message from Sarah, I opened it up and was treated with a smoking hot picture of her in a sheer black lace bra and thong, with sheer black thigh-high stockings topped with a matching band of black lace, biting her lip and posing in a mirror with a hand on her hip. I was so riled up thinking about Kristie that I had almost forgotten I had instructed Sarah to buy some lingerie and sext me pictures while trying it on. She looked phenomenal, and I started imagining all the filthy fun we would have this evening. One thing I had to know, though: did she forget everything that happened this morning like I asked her? I sent some messages back, told her she looked amazing, and that she must be having a fun morning. Did she not have to work?

My phone buzzed again with messages from Sarah: “needed a personal day,” followed by, “haven’t seen you in a while,” and “wanna cum over tonight? ;-)”

I wrote back, “what do you mean a while?” I needed to be sure.

“been like a week hun” and then quickly: “girl’s got needs!!”

Wow, so she apparently did not remember me being there this morning, though the effects were apparent: the sexy pics and suggestive texts were not something she usually would do on her own. Erasing memories might yet prove a useful trick if I did something really stupid.

I quickly texted her back: “yeah, let’s play tonight” followed by, “have some things to do on campus, will call when on the way,” then I slid my phone in my pocket and stood up – for out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a familiar messy blond ponytail slicing through a gaggle of loitering students.

“Hey Kristie!” I called out as I closed the distance between us.

“Dan! What’s up?” she responded, smiling and turning to meet me. She was wearing her typical tight blue jeans, brightly colored running shoes, and some sort of slinky dark gray sleeveless top (a yoga shirt maybe?) that clung to her narrow waist and showed off her smooth, toned arms.

I was suddenly a little nervous. I hadn’t thought of anything to say, or even what I planned to do next. “Hey, uh, the simulation lab, uh, stuff for this week’s class needs calibrating. Could you come give me a hand with it?” It wasn’t really plausible, but there it was.

She didn’t hesitate: “Sure, let’s go.”

Hah! I don’t know what I was worried about. Compound 606 has got my back. As we started walking together, I tried to think about where to go that we could be alone. There are the “on-call rooms” full of beds in the hospital, but they are disgusting, communal, and nothing like the sex romp rooms of Grey’s Anatomy. Plus no matter the time of day or night, there was likely to be some poor resident sneaking an exhausted nap in one of the beds, and I didn’t have the heart to interrupt those precious few minutes of sleep they might get. Then I remembered there was a practice exam room in the next building over that was sometimes used for class. It had a hospital bed, an exam table and all sorts of other things in it, and was far enough from the main classrooms that it was almost always deserted.

“The, uh, lab stuff is actually in the practice exam room. Let’s head over that way.”

Again, not plausible, but at least stated somewhat confidently this time. As we walked, she pressed in close to my side (effect of the pheromones, or maybe she’s just into me?) and before long I had my arm draped around her narrow, wiry shoulders as we strolled and chatted about nothing in particular.

As we walked in the room, I said, “So, I have a confession: there is no lab stuff to calibrate.”

She replied almost absentmindedly, twirling

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THE END