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From: eli@NetUSA.Net (Eli The Bearded)
Subject: [rae archive] Heat

From my archive of rec.arts.erotica.	-- Eli

Archive-name: heat-dmb

From: dbetger@tiac.net ("Donald M. Boettger")

Subject: Heat

Keywords: mf oral sf

X-Moderator-Review-Michael: 10: A wonderful, entertaining speculative
short story that just happens to include explicit sex. Bravo. One of
the best stories I've reviewed.

X-Moderator-Review-Ava: 10: What he said. *applause*

Heat

Fiction Copyright (c) 1996 by Don Boettger
_________________________________________________________________

I'm a scientist.

That phrase seems to have a different meaning to the general public
than it has in the science community. Most people think of lab coats
and bubbling beakers, or wild-haired and absent-minded-but-kindly
professors. But to us, science is a process -- lots of study to master
one's field, then hard work, careful documentation, peer review, and
publishing. In some fields, especially when the work has direct
effects on humans, we deal with very stringent regulations concerning
the type of experiments we can perform.

I accept those constraints. They were put in place for a purpose, to
guarantee valid results and protect the public from exposure to
unknown dangers. But sometimes it seems that the process has the
opposite effect. Our discovery has profound implications for society,
and we'd never have known that if we'd followed the rules. So, now
that the research is about to be published, Gaby and I have decided to
put our professional lives on the line. We think you need to know.
_________________________________________________________________

My field is biochemistry, specifically neuropharmacology. I am (at
least for now) a visiting fellow at the University of Hawaii,
continuing a line of research I began as a post-doc at Iowa State. The
goal of the work was to understand and, ultimately, manipulate the
cycle of estrus in various domestic animals. Estrus is more popularly
known as "heat" -- the fertile part of the female reproductive cycle,
often accompanied by the release of chemical attractants called
pheromones which produce the well-known reaction in the males of the
species. Anyone who has owned an unspayed female dog or cat, or lives
near someone who does, knows all about estrus.

The project was difficult and ambitious. Estrus is a very complex
phenomenon that involves virtually all the major physiological
systems. It is triggered by not one but several interacting biological
clocks. It affects the endocrine system, releasing a flood of hormones
which act as messengers to the brain, internal organs, and
reproductive system. These in turn effect changes of their own. There
are further influences from the external environment -- for example,
the course of estrus varies considerably depending on whether (and
when) copulation occurs.

Our project was successful, far beyond our original expectations.
Building on a long line of research by others, we learned that there
are several key brain chemicals -- neurotransmitters -- which regulate
the cycle. My work produced a model, a mathematical description of the
way these regulators function. It was the vital link, because it meant
we had a tool to manipulate the process.

Five months into my fellowship, we synthesized a compound which could
trigger estrus in our lab animals.

The implications of such a drug are enormous. For starters, imagine
cattle which pump out three or four calves per year instead of one.
Imagine racehorse owners who could bring their mares into heat on the
one day they have access to a particular stud. Imagine show-champion
dogs which could produce thousands, instead of dozens, of progeny.
Imagine breeding new varieties of domestic animals in a fraction of
the time, but without the unknown hazards of genetic engineering.

Our drug was effective on every animal we gave it to. The rats were
first, then cats, and finally sheep and cattle. There was no change in
the drug except its dosage. And it was that very general nature of the
effect that got me into the argument with Gaby.
_________________________________________________________________

Gabrielle Mercer was a grad student, one of my research assistants.
She spent most of her time (except for classes) in the lab, caring for
the animals, giving injections according to the experimental design,
and helping us write up the results. She was very good -- smart,
detail-oriented, conscientious and reliable. And she was very excited
about the drug. She thought we should publish immediately, using our
initial results in rats, without waiting for the large-animal data.

We were in the lab, in the rat room. We were watching a female that
we'd dosed; she wasn't supposed to be receptive, but the drug had
brought her into estrus and she was posturing, tail lifted, back
arched, ready for mating. In nearby cages, males were alert, sniffing
and scratching at the wire on that side. I was trying for the nth time
to explain to Gaby why we couldn't submit our research for review just
yet.

"But, Gaby, don't you see? It's the fact that we found a non-specific
model that's important. Anybody can trigger estrus in rats by brute
force, injecting massive amounts of the right hormones. But those
approaches are all species-specific, and they have to be timed just
right, and they don't tell us anything about the underlying process.
It's the fact that we have a general solution which works on any
animal, at any time in the cycle, that demonstrates a true
understanding."

"Sure," she answered, "but we already know that from the rats and the
preliminary data on cats. The drug is totally different from any other
approach we've seen in the literature. Why not get it into press and
nail down our priority?"

"It isn't a contest, Gaby. We have to be thorough, and the
large-animal results are the proof. It's only a few more weeks, and we
can have the paper pre-written and ready to go. We'll just plug in the
data and submit."

Gaby fumed. "Well, don't blame me if somebody else scoops us. Damn!
You have your doctorate, but some of us still have reputations to
make."

I grinned. "Some reputation. Gaby Mercer, who got her science career
cut short by rushing to print with incomplete results. Really, Gaby,
have a little patience! Besides," I said, "there's another thing
that's been troubling me, and I want some time to work on it."

Gaby's eyebrows went up. "Oh? What's that?"

I should have told her to wait until I was ready. But I was getting
used to bouncing ideas off her, and I plowed ahead without thinking.
"I want to run some human-model simulations."

Gaby's eyes went wide. Then she burst out laughing. "Whoa! That's a
good one. You really had me going. I thought you were serious. Human
model! Quick! Get the chastity belt, I'm going into heat!"

"All right, all right, don't fall out of your shirt. You think it's
funny, but humans do have a reproductive cycle. Women don't have
estrus, exactly, but you have a menstrual period. If this drug gets
into the veterinary pharmacopoeia it'll be out there, in the
environment, and humans will be exposed. In fact, I'll bet my stipend
that somebody will try it on their girlfriend, or herself, just for a
laugh. And right now we know exactly nothing about the potential
effects."

Gaby's smile had faded. "OK, you're right. I'll help you." She grabbed
my arm and dragged me toward the office and its workstation. It was my
turn to laugh.

But three hours later neither one of us was laughing. The
supercomputer on the mainland had run our simulation, and the results
were confusing. Interpreted one way, the drug had caused little effect
except a slight time-shift in the menstrual cycle. That alone was
significant, because it meant we had a potential contraceptive. But
another interpretation was possible. And now it was Gaby who was
worried.

"It looks so much like the animal results. Don't you see? Look at the
estrogen and progesterone curves. And what's this one? I don't
recognize this compound at all," she said.

"I don't either, and that's probably an indication that we crashed the
model. That can happen when you introduce something new and
unforeseen."

"Unforeseen is right. But if you ignore that one element, everything
else looks like our horny rats. How can that be? Humans don't go into
heat!"

"It's not quite the same. The hormone ratios are all wrong. It could
all be a side effect of the menstrual shift. Or it could just be a
confused model -- probably that's all it is." I leaned back in the old
wooden chair I favored for computer work, picked up a little vial of
our magic drug.

"And are we so sure humans don't have estrus?" I posed, staring at the
purplish crystals in the glass tube. "Maybe it's just more subtle. All
the other primates have heat -- chimps, orangs, gorillas. We're not
all that different." I pushed back from the workstation. "Come on, we
need to get clear of this for awhile. Let's go get some dinner. My
treat." I slipped the vial into my shirt pocket.
_________________________________________________________________

Gaby and I continued our conversation in quiet tones as we walked down
toward the beach. We had shared working lunches a few times, but I was
always careful to keep our relationship strictly professional. That
wasn't always easy, at least on my part. Gaby was no centerfold type,
tall, a bit gangly, and rather plain in appearance, but she was
attractive in many other ways -- very intelligent, enthusiastic and
poised, quick to crack a silly joke. But she never showed any romantic
interest in me, or any other man as far as I could observe. Or woman,
either, I thought as we reached our goal.

Though on the beachfront, Micky's had never been on the tourist map.
It was small and dark, on a potholed side street that ran down toward
the shore, with only a tiny sign on the sidewalk to show it was
anything but a rundown cottage. On the back side, though, there was a
raised deck with a quiet bar, and inside were comfortable high-backed
booths. Gaby and I headed for one of those.

"In one sense," I was saying as the food arrived, "humans don't have
estrus because females are always in heat."

Gaby looked shocked for a moment, then grinned. "I never thought about
it that way, but I can see it. With the possible exception of the
menstrual period, women can and do have sex any time."

"Right, that's what I mean. Other animals have estrus periods, and
they fuck... er, copulate like crazy at that time. But the rest of the
cycle they are totally indifferent to sex."

"The females are, that is. The males can be aroused at any time, as
long as there's a female in heat nearby. Then they _fuck_ her like
crazy." Gaby grinned, and grinned wider as I blushed.

"OK, I guess it's silly to try to be completely clinical about all
this. But you know I try to keep work separate from personal
relationships."

"What personal relationships?" Gaby said. "You haven't had a date
since you came out from the mainland."

I think I must have blushed again. "Funny how you noticed that." I
held her eyes, and she met my gaze. "The same could be said about you.
Between classes and your lab hours, there isn't much time for you to
have a social life either." Gaby dropped her eyes and made a big
production of eating her burger.

I steered the conversation back to safer territory. "Speaking of the
males, what about pheromones? That's a big part of any estrus system.
The females always emit a hormone which signals the males that she's
ready."

Gaby took a drink of her coke, and said, "That's another argument
against the idea that humans have an estrus cycle. If there were any
substance that triggered that kind of primal response in human males,
wouldn't we have found it by now? I mean, think of the market for a
true aphrodisiac."

"You may be right there. Even if our remote ancestors had a pheromone
response, we've probably lost that sense along with most of our sense
of smell.

"Then again, I don't know. Pheromones are always highly
species-specific and very complex molecules. We might not have
stumbled onto it, even if it does exist. Or maybe it has been found,
and suppressed as too dangerous."

Gaby looked skeptical. "You couldn't hide something like that. It
would have to come out. Even if the first discoverer suppressed it,
the next would report it, or the next..."

"Assuming it was easy enough for several independent researchers to
find. And don't forget, the human research field is much slower
because of the experimental protocols."

"True. And..." Gaby now looked very hesitant, pushed the pickle around
her plate. "...and if our drug does have a human effect..." She looked
up at me. "...how will we find out?"

That question hung in the air for just a few too many heartbeats.

Gaby broke into the background murmur. "There's no way we could get
permission for human trials in time to find out before we're ready to
publish."

Again it was Gaby who broke the silence. "If we publish this before we
know, I mean really know, for sure..."

"Then," I said, "Pandora has opened the box. Only this time she had a
pretty good idea what was inside before she did it."

Gaby continued to look at me with a questioning expression. We were
interrupted as the waiter left the check. She was still looking at me
when I looked back. It took me a minute to see where her train of
thought was headed. Not wanting to hear the answer, I said, "So what
do you think we should do about this?"

She didn't answer for a second or two. Then she leaned forward and
reached into my shirt pocket. When she leaned back, her hand held a
small glass vial containing purplish crystals.
_________________________________________________________________

"Gaby, that's absolutely crazy. Not to mention unethical. And foolish.
We have no clear idea what the effects are going to be. You could do
all kinds of damage, maybe destroy your reproductive capacity."

"We have to know," Gaby said.

I took a very deep breath. This was getting serious. "Even if we did
it, the results would be unpublishable. Talk about ruining your
career! Gaby, this is not Victorian London, and your name is not
Jeckyll."

"You said yourself that the simulation we ran isn't useful, that this
drug is too different for valid results. A human test is the only
way."

"You know perfectly well that the result would be useless as data.
There is only one subject, no controls, no protocol."

"But it would be one data point, which is infinitely better than zero,
which we have now."

"All right. All right. But think -- if the model is valid, you're not
likely to have negative effects, or much of any other effect as far as
we can see. But if it isn't valid, as you're arguing, then you have no
clue what the result would be. You could die, or have brain damage,
or... almost anything." I reached for the vial. She pulled it back.

"We don't know how to interpret the model. Maybe it's perfect. Maybe
it's way off. Either way, the numbers don't tell us what the drug
does, subjectively. We need to _know_," she repeated.

"But wait. We don't even know the appropriate dosage, or how long the
effects would last, if any. Gaby, I just won't let you take that kind
of risk."

"_You_ won't let _me_ take the risk? Just who the hell do you think
you are?" She was really angry. I had to keep calm and try to control
this.

"I am the principal investigator on this project. I am your faculty
advisor. I am your friend, I hope. And in each of those capacities,
I'm telling you -- you must not do this."

Gaby's head dropped. Slowly she set the vial down on the table and
pushed it across to me.

I left the vial where it was. "Thank you," I said.

But when Gaby lifted her eyes to mine, I saw that she was not yet
ready to give in. "So, we're just going to go ahead. We're going to
publish this, and the stuff will get out on the market, and then the
whole human race will be the experimental subjects."

She had a pleading look. "Already there are environmental effects from
pesticides and PCBs. Some of them are hormone mimics, and wildlife has
been affected. They persist in the environment. They cause fetal
abnormalities, interfere with reproduction. They're in humans, too,
and may be having effects on us -- reduced sperm counts, birth
defects, cancer.

"Tell me, Mr. Principal Investigator. What's going to happen when our
little creation gets out there? And when they come to you and ask how
you could have let this genie loose, what are you going to say to
them? That the risk to your friend was more important than knowing the
whole truth about your precious new drug?"

The waiter came and went with my credit card. Neither of us spoke
while he was gone. When he brought the slip he refilled our water
glasses. I was staring at that little vial. I was still staring at it
when Gaby reached out, and took it, and unscrewed the top, and spilled
a tiny pile onto her napkin.

"About three crystals, I think," I said. My voice sounded hoarse to my
own ears. "Don't swallow, the stomach acids will degrade it. Under
your tongue would be best."

"No. I think another moist mucous membrane would be more appropriate."
Gaby carefully pushed three crystals onto her place mat and returned
the rest to the vial. She stuck the bottle back in my shirt pocket.
Then she moistened her fingertip and picked up the three crystals. She
drew her hands back and dropped them below the table. Then I heard the
rustle of her wraparound skirt, and she briefly arched her back. The
rustle again. Then she was wiping her finger on the napkin. And
staring straight into my eyes.
_________________________________________________________________

"How long do you think we'll have to wait before I show symptoms?"
Gaby asked.

"Forever. I hope," I said. "Maybe you'll need a tampon a few days
sooner."

"I hope you're right," she said. "Let's go out on the deck."

The ocean view was to the south. The rollers were coming in long and
rumbley. We leaned on the railing, looking off to the right where the
last of the sunset was dying. It was a warm night, with a soft and
erratic breeze out of the west. Micky's wasn't too busy, three guys at
the bar and a few couples at the outdoor tables. Canned music was
playing, easy jazz, not the touristy Hawaiian that most bars played.
It would have been romantic if I wasn't so worried.

"Gaby, I'm going to stay with you for the rest of the evening. If
anything happens you may need somebody around who's not affected." I
paused. "A long time ago, I ingested a few, um, substances myself. It
was always good to have somebody around who wasn't high, just in case
anybody freaked out."

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine, but you can be an impartial
observer. Anyhow, I don't mind your company. In fact..." She let the
thought trail off.

If she was about to express some attraction for me, I didn't push it.
Tonight I needed to be objective. That was not easy, with the tropical
Pacific breeze stirring the stray hairs that refused to stay in her
pony tail. Gaby sure looked good tonight. Why was that? Was it what
she'd just done with the crystals? I reached out, touched her forearm.

She swung around to face me, a movement that lacked her usual
unhurried grace. In the dim light I couldn't be sure, but her cheeks
seemed flushed. She opened her mouth to speak, then just moved closer
to me. She was beautiful, so beautiful...

Wait... something was wrong. I shouldn't be thinking like that. But
her breath was so warm, and coming so fast. My heart was pounding. I
looked away.

Suddenly I was aware of the three guys at the bar, down at the far
left end of the deck. They had stopped talking and were staring in our
direction. They had very strange expressions. As I watched, one of
them slid off his stool, unsteady on his feet but with his eyes never
wavering.

I said, "I think we'd better get going." Gaby didn't answer. She had
moved in, and was pressing against me, breasts and hips. I looked back
at the bar. All three men were standing, and starting to move our way.
I took Gaby's arm and steered her toward the exit.

I led her through the restaurant quickly. When we got to the street I
looked back. The three guys had been joined by a fourth, and were
coming through the door, looking around somewhat dazedly. Then they
all stiffened, all four at once, and swung around to face us. I
hurried Gaby along. She had her arms around me and was murmuring
something into my shirt, but I managed to keep us moving.

It was five blocks to my bungalow. And the four men were following.
And gaining. I felt an absurd twinge of fear and jealousy. She's mine!
I held Gaby tighter and hurried her to the corner.

We turned right, and now the breeze was stronger and at our backs. We
were less than half a block ahead when the guys reached the corner. I
was almost to the point of panic, but Gaby didn't seem to have noticed
them. I looked back again. They were still at the corner. But they had
stopped, and were looking around, confused. In a dark spot between
streetlights, I held Gaby still. The men at the corner looked around
for a few seconds more, then turned and walked back toward Micky's. I
heard halting voices and a burst of weird laughter as they moved off.

Now Gaby was rubbing herself against me, like some oversized kitten.
The breeze died again, and I felt a surge of -- some sensation I can't
name. I shook my head and got us moving again. The next thing I knew
we were on the front porch of my bungalow.

Gaby was making noises, rubbing me with her hands and her body. I was
fumbling for the keys. Suddenly there was a cloth flapping around me,
and then it was gone, and Gaby was standing there in her panties and
top, and she was untying the top, no, just pulling it aside, and oh my
god what was happening to us?

The breeze came up and caught the skirt Gaby had peeled off. It blew
down to the end of the porch and fetched up against the lattice there.
My head was suddenly clearer and I got the key into the lock, got the
door open, pulled Gaby inside. I flipped on the entryway light. One
heartbeat later I was lost again. Gaby was on her elbows and knees.
She had gotten one breast free of her top, its nipple swollen and
hard, and she had one hand pressed firmly between her legs. She was
making incoherent cooing sounds. And I was on my knees, too. I was
pressing my nose into her crotch and breathing deep, deep.

Somehow I had gotten my shorts partway off. It was an enormous relief.
My erection was painful, and feeling cool from its own wetness in the
evening breeze. I had to get it warm. I had to get it into Gaby. I
moved on top of her, I thrust between her legs -- Frustration! And
again. I heard a deep-throated growl. It was my own voice.

The breeze blew down the hall. I lifted my head. Danger! I crawled to
the still-open door behind us, slammed it shut. For one breath I knew
what to do. I turned back to Gaby, who was fingering herself inside
her panties, still kneeling with back arched and ass high. I grabbed
that barrier of cloth and yanked hard. Gaby moaned. I yanked again.
There was a tearing sound, and the remains of the panties were halfway
down one leg. Gaby's crotch and thighs were slick and shining with her
honey. I grabbed her and entered her with a single thrust. Together,
we groaned with satisfaction.

Gaby was already coming, a frantic, grunting spasm brought on by her
own strumming fingers and the sensation of being penetrated. And in
two strokes I was with her, hammering my come deep into her wet, wet
pussy. And so it began.
_________________________________________________________________

I have little coherent memory of the next hours. I know that we never
left that entry hallway, and that we must have spent almost the entire
time coupled. We both had repeated orgasms. Gaby's seemed almost
continuous. I never lost that intense erection, not even after coming.
We did not sleep. We weren't making love, we were fucking, coupling
like the pre-human animals we had become, driven by instinct and need
rather than desire.

What brought my to my senses was an urgent need to urinate. My
erection had prevented that. I tried to get up and realized that Gaby
was lying across my torso, one arm holding my leg, her mound pressed
against my hip. She was awake, breathing normally, but when I stirred
she gave a wordless protest and held me tighter.

I gently took her shoulders and brought her up beside me. Her top was
still around her shoulders, but those firm little breasts had long
since come free; her ruined panties were still around her left leg.
She threw her arms around my neck and slung that panty-bound leg
across me. My erection was nearly gone, and I had to get to the
bathroom _now_. I disentangled myself, put down my hand and realized I
was lying in a puddle of something. I staggered to the bathroom and
relieved myself.

Those few seconds in the bathroom cleared my head immensely. I took a
long drink of water from the tap. It was already full daylight, I
realized. I took off my shirt, which was still in place but
half-soaked in whatever it was. I wrung it out, then took a sniff.
Immediately I was overwhelmed with sensations -- half-remembered
images of Gaby, of me and Gaby, of thrusting, penetrating... I dropped
the shirt in the laundry basket and shook my head to clear it. I
looked down at a new and rising hard-on.
_________________________________________________________________

Gaby was sitting up when I returned to the hall, holding her head in
her hands and groaning. I left her there and went to fetch a bucket
and mop. The puddle had to be urine, Gaby's urine. I couldn't have
done it, and even under the circumstances we couldn't have produced
enough sexual fluids to make that puddle. I had a vague recollection
of Gaby, on all fours, letting go a stream against the wall, during
one of the brief intervals when I wasn't in her. My god.

With the bucket filled I returned to our hallway. Gaby was standing
unsteadily, legs too far apart, examining herself dazedly. I realized
we both had several scrapes and bruises; Gaby seemed to be assessing
the damage. She was covered with funk, her own and mine, sweat, semen,
and piss. As was I.

She looked up as I approached. I couldn't read her expression. Maybe
she was feeling some emotion that humans have never felt or named. I
had no idea what to say. I set down the bucket, cradled her cheek in
my hand, and kissed her. She threw her arms around me and returned the
kiss.

"So now we know," she said.

"Now we know, " said I.

Those were, I realized, the first coherent words we'd spoken since
entering the house.
_________________________________________________________________

Gaby headed for the bathroom to clean up as I went to work with the
mop. Each time I stirred up the puddle I got another whiff of the
indescribable scent of her, and each time I got another surge of
arousal. I dumped the bucket down the kitchen drain and got out the
Lysol spray. I went over the hall with exquisite care. The erection
subsided. I had a strange feeling of relief mixed with an ancient,
primal sadness.

I went back to the kitchen to rustle up some food. I was famished, and
only just realizing it. We must have burned a week's calories
overnight. I piled a plate with anything I could find in the fridge
and went looking for Gaby.

She was still in the bathroom. She had, apparently, drunk some water
and cleaned up. She had removed the remains of her panties and top,
and I finally saw her fully naked. I liked it. She was slender and
well-proportioned, and the small breasts were perfect, red-brown
nipples slightly upturned, lovely. Her hair had won its rebellion
against the pony tail. As I watched she reached up, pulled off the
elastic, gathered her hair and reapplied it. It was a small, domestic
thing, and my heart sang to see it.

I offered her the food, and she gave a lovely little sigh as she
grabbed for some grapes. I left the plate and went to my bedroom,
thinking she might like a robe. Once there, I realized that her skirt
was still out on the porch. I put on the robe and retrieved the skirt.
Now, I thought, we'll just jump in the shower and be back to earth.

When I returned, Gaby was still in the bath. As I approached, I
couldn't quite see what she was doing. The plate of food was still
there, mostly uneaten. Gaby held something in her left hand, and was
staring down at her right fingertip. There was something on the
floor...

It was my shirt. She had pulled it out of the laundry basket. Her left
hand was holding a small glass vial, its top unscrewed. The right
fingertip was salted with a half-dozen purplish crystals.

"Oh, god, Gaby, no," I said. "Please god, no."

She looked at me with that unnamed and ancient expression, then
dropped her hand and slid the right index finger deep into her pussy.
_________________________________________________________________

The higher dosage seemed to have a paradoxical effect. Or maybe we
were just too tired from the first round. In any case, this time we
seemed to be much more in control. We weren't limited to a doggy-style
humping on the hall floor. Instead we used the bed, and the couch, and
the kitchen counter, and the shower, and the recliner, and yes, the
floor again. And I remember those ten hours very clearly indeed. Gaby
was an astonishment. She was utterly insatiable, which was certainly
an effect of the drug. But she was also playful, creative, and
experimental. I can't say that we discovered any totally new
techniques, but we certainly used a whole lot more than I had ever
tried before.

We even managed to take a few breaks for other needs. I found that as
long as I was some distance from Gaby I could lose the erection and
take care of my bladder. We even ate a little, though nothing that
took time to prepare.

Gaby spent at least an hour kissing, licking and sucking my poor
abused cock, giving me a series of orgasms. I was no longer producing
much semen, but the intensity of each peak seemed only greater for
that. How Gaby did this while ignoring her body's own insistent
demands for penetration I do not know. I can only say that I was
literally incapable of returning the favor. As soon as my nose
approached her pussy I was completely helpless; within a few seconds I
simply had to stop, turn and enter her. She did not complain about
this lack of sensitivity on my part. Instead, she just ground her hips
to get friction on her clit, and joined me in coming, again and again.

Long before the drug wore off, I was totally exhausted. For some time
I lay back on the bed, unable to summon the energy to get up or even
lift an arm. Yet the erection did not flag. Gaby simply straddled me
and rode it to another passionate climax. I did not come during that
episode. I didn't have the strength. Afterward, Gaby curled up beside
me, took my hand and placed it between her legs, and wrapped her
fingers around my pole. Still erect. My cock felt as if it belonged to
somebody else. We lay like that for a long cozy hour.

Toward the end of that hour, as the day wore on into evening -- the
beginning of our second night together -- the erection subsided. Gaby
began a gentle kneading which produced no effect; the poor thing was
practically numb. But she had the solution. She let go of me and
slipped her hand between her legs, squeezing my fingers and then
dipping into her own wetness. She withdrew the hand and walked her
fingers up my belly and chest. Then she touched my lips with her
wet-slick fingertips and rubbed the honey under my nose and on my
chin.

It took a bit longer now, but amazingly I grew hard again. And the
rest had done me some good. I reached across, took Gaby's waist, and
guided her onto her back. I rolled on top of her, reached down, hooked
her knees and lifted them up and apart. She gave a sunny laugh and
rolled her hips forward to me, and I accepted the invitation. She
guided me in with nimble fingers. Her sighs quickly became moans and
little yelps as I increased the tempo. And now, I was able to control
my own pace a little, teasing her by stopping, making her groan by
pulling out and rubbing the tip of my cock against her clit and thighs
before easing back inside. The orgasm, when it finally came, was rich
and satisfying for both of us.

There was more, though not very much more, before we finally fell
asleep. When I woke it was just before daybreak, and as I listened the
last night insects quieted and the first birds began their dawn riot.
I got up and took a leak. The vial was still there where we had left
it the previous morning. I stared at it for a long time. I held it
over the toilet bowl for a long minute. Then I capped it and took it
out on the lanai in the back of the bungalow, and hid it where I knew
Gaby couldn't find it. I returned to bed.
_________________________________________________________________

Gaby looked lovely, and smelled even better. She cuddled into me as I
crawled in beside her. I lay there trying to understand what had
happened to us.

The drug was a human aphrodisiac, of that there was no doubt. And it
seemed to prove that humans, or their distant forebears, really did
have an estrus cycle, one that was still latent and could still be
awoken. Perhaps that's what normal human sexual arousal is: an echo of
the ancient urge, much modified and diminished except when we allow
ourselves to hear it.

With the drug, there was no avoiding that urge. Early on, Gaby had
shown all the signs of arousal: flushing of the skin, increased pulse
and respiration, erections of nipples and clitoris, vaginal
lubrication. A bit later, she had exhibited a posturing behavior,
something humans weren't supposed to have. I remembered the image of
Gaby in the hallway, on all fours, displaying a wet and open pussy for
any nearby male to see.

OK, so Gaby had gone into heat, maybe the first human female ever to
do so.

Suddenly I remembered the men at Micky's. They'd known. They'd...
smelled her. And so had I. Whenever the wind had brought her scent to
me, I'd reacted with almost irresistible lust.

But I had taken no drug. Neither had the men at the bar.

Gaby had produced pheromones! And every male downwind of her had been
affected.

I reached over to her and nestled my hand into the hollow of her
waist. She murmured in her sleep, cuddled closer.

A human pheromone could be a godsend to men with impotence problems.
It could be a nightmare if available to the general public. I
remembered the sensation of thrusting helplessly into Gaby's
panty-clad crotch. I could not have stopped myself, and didn't stop
myself, from tearing the barrier aside and fucking, fucking, fucking
her. My mind was completely turned off, and raw instinct was in
control. So much for objectivity, for the rational man. So much for
the objective, scientific viewpoint. So much for the Principal
Investigator.

Gaby's sleeping leg moved, sliding up and across me, and it caught my
cock and balls and pressed them into my stomach. I groaned and lifted
her knee so I could rearrange things. She murmured again, then settled
down.

So human estrus was real. And so we couldn't reveal this discovery. No
drug, not even a veterinary drug, could be kept secret once its
synthesis and human effects became known. We would have to close down
the project, declare failure and destroy the notes. It might raise
eyebrows, but it could be done. My colleagues would go along if we
told them...

Told them what? That we had ingested an experimental substance without
permissions or safeguards? That we'd been transformed into reasonless
apes, fucking repeatedly and helplessly until the effect wore off? And
how is your academic career going these days, Mr. Neurochemist?

I slid my hand down to Gaby's smooth, firm ass. We couldn't keep the
secret without destroying ourselves, and having to leave the only
thing we wanted to spend our lives doing. When not fucking.

I thought about Gaby and me. What would happen tomorrow? Would we be
lovers, or would we hate the sight, sound, and smell of each other?
Powerful hormones had powerful aftereffects. There could be a
backlash. Or... maybe we'd taken Love Potion Number Infinity. Right
now I wanted to hold Gaby like this forever. When she woke up, would
she feel the same?

She could be pregnant, I realized. Contraceptives were the last thing
on our minds over the last -- what? -- 30 hours. I wasn't too worried
about STDs, but we'd have to discuss that too.

Well, what of it? If Gaby wanted to stay with me, that was fine. And
if she was pregnant, I'd marry her, if she'd have me and wanted the
baby. I liked her a lot, and she was beautiful -- or was that just the
afterglow of the drug? I realized I couldn't trust my own feelings,
not yet.

And for one, guilty moment, I realized that Gaby was not the only
choice, that I could have any woman, any woman at all, and make her
want me desperately, helplessly. I tried to push that thought aside.
It probably wasn't really true, but I would not be the only man to
have the idea -- once the drug was known to the world.

Gaby stirred again, her hand sliding up my chest and coming to rest
cupping my shoulder. My fingertips were nestled along the crack of her
ass. Was it my imagination, or was she pressing her mound against my
thigh? I didn't want any other woman. I wanted Gaby. I thought.

What could we do?

If we went ahead and published, acting as if nothing had happened,
then the world would surely have to come to terms with this new
knowledge. People would use it for a recreational drug, as Gaby had --
the second time. What was wrong with that? Nobody else would be hurt.
But what about the unscrupulous men, the just plain evil ones, who
would use this as the ultimate drug of seduction? What could a woman
do in the aftermath, knowing that during the act she had wanted it,
needed desperately to be fucked?

It wasn't like alcohol, which dulls the senses and reduces inhibitions
and, eventually, saps the ability to resist. It wasn't like that other
drug, the veterinary anesthetic, that puts women into a helpless
trance. Gaby hadn't been unconscious, or even physically impaired.
She'd been a willing, even eager participant. She'd been the initiator
and instigator. If anybody was out of his head, it was me.

No. That was a cop-out, too. She may have been willing, but even if
she hadn't been she probably couldn't have stopped herself. Any woman
would behave much as Gaby had under the influence of this stuff, even
if she loathed the man who gave her the dose.

What other information could I draw on? How did estrus function in the
wild? When a female comes into heat, what happens in a band of chimps?
I tried to remember the nature films. Didn't the females chase off the
males they didn't want? Or was it always competition among the males
that determined who mated and who got left whimpering and screeching?
I couldn't remember, and it might not be relevant anyway. Humans may
be closely related, but we weren't chimps. Thank goodness. I gave
Gaby's cheek a squeeze.

I thought about nuclear weapons. Those guys in the Manhattan Project
were lucky. They were in the middle of a war, working for the goddamn
_army_, and they didn't have to think about the consequences until it
was much, much too late. It was somebody else's decision. Lucky
bastards. Gaby and I would have to handle this alone.

At that moment, Gaby spoke, still with her eyes closed. "Have you got
it all figured out?" she said.

I said, "Some of it, but I still don't know what to do." I waited for
her to answer, then realized that she was still asleep. What dream had
made her speak those appropriate words? How could Gaby and I figure
this all out ourselves? As scientists, we were usually focused on the
narrow problem at hand. That didn't train us to be philosophers.

There were other research teams out there doing work similar to ours.
If we could find the drug, they could too. Had they found it already?
Would they ever? I know I'm a smart guy, and I know not everybody
could have developed the model of estrus that led to the drug. But I'm
not so smart, or so egotistical, as to imagine that nobody else would
ever repeat the work. Maybe we could stall, delay, release little bits
of research, keep our careers going, and watch the literature. If
somebody else got close... No. That was just a way to put the problem
in somebody else's lap. At least Gaby and I had the right, and even
the duty, to make this decision by our own standards.

Gaby huffed and wriggled, and cracked open her eyes. "Good morning," I
said.

"Hi! This feels nice," she answered. "What time is it?"

"Just about dawn, I think."

"Dawn of a new era," she said. Was that comment prompted by the fading
echoes of her dream? Or was she talking about us, or the drug?
_________________________________________________________________

Gaby wanted to use it again right away. I said no, though with
considerable reluctance. It took a while, but I convinced her we
needed time to get some perspective on what had happened. And to
assess the aftereffects, if any.

The first aftereffect was pretty mundane. We had to call the campus
and explain the missing day. I had skipped office hours, but no
classes. Gaby would have to catch up on class work, and she'd been out
of the lab for a day. Fortunately one of my other students had taken
care of the animals, though Gaby had to promise him a day off to make
it up. It was Friday now, and we both had responsibilities, so we
showered together, got dressed, and headed back to campus. We'd had no
time to discuss things, so I made Gaby swear not to say anything until
we could talk it through. Gaby held me passionately as we kissed
goodbye.

I probably wasn't much of a lecturer in my undergrad classes that
morning. Gaby and I met again in the lab after lunch. She kissed me
hello, very warmly, in front of the other RAs. So that secret's out, I
thought. At least the missing day will be explained by the gossips.

We left together as soon as Gaby completed her animal chores. That
raised eyebrows, too, I imagine. I heard a voice say, very softly,
"Way to go, Gaby," as we walked out. I was flattered, and proud,
though I had little right to be.

We bought groceries and made dinner at my place. We made small talk.
We didn't mention the drug experience until we were cleaning up.

"What I never expected," she was saying, "was the incredible sense of
urgency. Nothing else mattered. I didn't even think about the lab, or
classes, or getting pregnant. If I had thought of them I'd have
forgotten them right away. All I cared about was having you in me,
right now." She was standing beside me at the sink, and I reached out
to give her waist a squeeze with a sudsy hand.

"I think I was even worse off than you, at least in the first round. I
don't even remember most of it."

"God, I do," she said. "You were a monster. For a while you were
squeezing me so tight I couldn't breathe. I had to whack you to get
you to let go."

"Gaby! I'm so sorry." I rubbed my forearm. "So that's how I got this
bruise."

"Oh, let me see." She put down the towel and took my arm, kissing the
tender spot. "That better?"

"Much," I said, thinking about what a silly notion it was that a kiss
could make it better. But damn it, it did feel better. Why was that?
Why did it suddenly seem important?

"I wonder why it was so different on the second dose? What were the
things that changed?"

Her brow knitted. "Let's see. The dose was higher, I remember. Maybe
double. But that would make things even more out of control, you'd
think."

"Yes you would. It lasted longer, so we know the dosage had that much
effect. But there were other differences. I was very, very tired, even
at the start of round two. I was exhausted before it wore off. Maybe I
just couldn't be as crazed."

"Hmmm. Maybe. But the way things went in the first round, normal rules
didn't seem to apply. I know I've never had such a long, sustained
arousal, not even close. And the orgasms!" She wrapped her arms around
me and melted into my side. "I never imagined..."

"Yes, I felt the same. I almost never maintain an erection after
coming -- er, sorry if that's bad news. But it's true. I was hard for
hours, with many orgasms mixed in there, but I never lost the
erection. Never even thought about it. Or much of anything else,
except your sweet pink pussy. It all seemed sort of unreal, like it
was happening to somebody else."

She was squeezing my butt. "Oh, it was you all right, lover. And the
second round was even better."

"I think it was better _because_ we were more in control. It seemed
like we could deny ourselves the instant gratification of constant
fucking, but that made it even more intense when we did."

"Yes," she agreed, "and I guess in that sense it was more like regular
sex. You don't suppose..."

"What?" I asked.

"Well... that maybe we were just getting used to it? Maybe the first
round was so unexpected, so overwhelming, that we, well, lost control.
But after the break, when we started again, we knew what to expect and
just handled it, made it happen _for_ us instead of _to_ us."

This was an interesting thought, and a very promising one for our
dilemma. "If that's so, then we don't have to worry so much about the
consequences of going public with this. People would have to learn how
to control it, sort of like learning to hold their alcohol, but
ultimately it would be just another kind of sexual experience."

"A hell of a nice kind," Gaby said. "But how can we be sure? I can't
help thinking about those three guys at the restaurant, and what would
have happened if they'd caught us before we got downwind of them."

I hugged her tightly. "Or if we had turned upwind instead. I'm damn
glad we didn't find out." I shook my head. "We don't have enough data
to go on. We don't know if our experience is typical. We don't know
whether the stuff even works on everyone. Maybe my Gaby is just a
horny little bunny on any old Wednesday night."

Her giggle was muffled in my collar. "Hardly. Repressed and prudish,
would be closer." She paused and raised her head. "I haven't told
anybody about this, but I was raped when I was fourteen -- a date
rape. I didn't trust boys for a long, long time. Yesterday, or rather
the day before, was my first time since."

I held her shoulders and looked into her face. I believed her. "Oh, my
poor Gaby. What have we done to you?"

She smiled wide. "We've set me free, is all. Remember, I made the
choice. I was ready. And I don't regret it for a second."

That kind of talk deserved a kiss, and she got a long, warm one. A
kiss to make it better. Then I took her hand and led her out to the
lanai. I sat in my treasured wooden garden chair. She sat in my lap.
The vial was hidden within arm's reach.

Her face was against my shoulder again as she spoke. "If we're right
about getting used to the effects of the drug, I'm almost sorry. It
was incredible to be so totally submerged into the primal mating
drive. It was like taking a vacation from being human, just going back
to swinging in the trees again."

"Let's not forget that round two was still pretty intense. We forgot
all about school, work, our regular lives. We may have put a bit more
variety into the sex, but we still fucked for nearly a whole day
straight."

"True. But I felt like we could have stopped if we wanted to..."

"...we just didn't want to," I finished. We both laughed. Then Gaby
reached down to her hip and pulled aside her skirt. She was still
dressed as she'd been two nights before, except that she had no
panties. Those had been destroyed by a certain single-minded ape who
had needed to open a passage for his desperate cock. I dropped my hand
between Gaby's thighs and she sighed with pleasure.

I said, "What do you say we try it au naturel this time? Without our
little chemical friend, I mean?"

In answer, Gaby raised her knee and opened herself to my caresses.
"This is yours any time, any place, with or without drugs," she
whispered. I replied by stroking her soft labia, gently teasing them
apart and unfolding the flower inside.

Kiss it and make it better. I owed Gaby a lot of oral sex just to
balance the books. Actually, I couldn't wait.

How does a kiss make it better? It heals nothing, causes no physical
change to the injury. It only changes how we feel about it. Mind
transcending flesh. It's the thing that makes us human. We'd been
controlling and suppressing our deepest instincts for a hundred
thousand generations. Now we'd have to learn how all over again.

"On Monday," I said, "we'll start the application process for human
research on our drug. We'll use the computer simulation as evidence
that it's needed."

Gaby nodded, squeezing my thigh.

"It will take at least a year before we have the results and can
publish the amazing news. You'll get your doctorate in the meantime."

"Yes, my love," she sighed.

"You'll need a new faculty adviser."

"Awwww."

"Until then, we won't use any more. Not on ourselves. Not on anyone
else. We'll pretend it never happened. We'll be as surprised as anyone
when the research subjects react unexpectedly." I slipped a finger
deep inside her, loving the springing wetness I found there.

"Right," she breathed. "It all happened the old-fashioned way. We fell
in love like everybody else for the last three million years."

And we made love, right there in the chair on the lanai, with the
night sounds of Hawaii around us, not caring if the neighbors peeped
out to see her sitting across my lap, long legs wrapped around the
back of the chair, breasts free of her untied shirt, hard nipples
lifted to my mouth, hips rocking rhythmically to caress the cock
buried deep inside her.

Maybe it wasn't as intense as the drug experience. It surely didn't
last as long. But it was more than just fucking, and better. I
wondered whether the world would eventually come to agree.

(September 1996)
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