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PGAD - Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2021-07-10 04:05:19 +0000 UTC3.
The small vial slipped out of Chris’ hand and smashed in the sink.
Fuck, he swore inwardly. Goddamit…
Why, why, why was he, Summa Cum Laude Biotechnology graduate from the top university in the nation, standing in front of the metal sink, wearing rubber gloves and holding a wire brush, scrubbing test tubes like a fucking dishwasher?!
It was beyond undignified. Tens of billions of dollars at Gen-U-Tech’s disposal, and they wouldn’t even give him a lab assistant. Hell, not even an intern. They wouldn’t even have to pay someone to do this dogshit, but no, the administrative work HR would have to do to get him an intern was just too damn much.
Fricking HR… talk about useless. A whole entire department devoted to waste, and here they were squandering all of his gifts and talents on menial, inane manual labor. Chris sighed as he began picking the broken shards out of the sink, dumping them into the red trash bin, marked with a biohazard symbol. Even this was demeaning and dangerous; if just one of those shards poked through his glove, laced with whatever formula these evil bastards were always dreaming up… he might well end up with a third leg growing out of his chest or something.
“Oh shit!”
His concern was very nearly realized as someone burst into the room, just as he was picking up a particularly pointy fragment. Chris whirled around with a scowl to see who it was, before his expression changed to one of astonishment.
It was Sara Davis, executive bigwig from the other day, standing in the lab once again, only this time she was flushed and sweating like she’d run a marathon. Her shoulder-length brown hair was damp and disheveled, as was her outfit, her blouse shoved haphazardly down her skirt and soaked through at the pits and neckline, which wouldn’t have been so apparent had she been wearing a suit jacket; he’d never seen her without one prior to this moment.
“Ms… Ms. Davis,” Chris managed to get out. “Uh… can… can I help you?”
“I need help!” she burst out redundantly. Her eyes were bulging and slightly crazed, while her chest heaved. “Something… something’s wrong with me...”
Chris took a step toward her before stepping back again, uncertain of what to do. Scrubbing test tubes was one thing, but this wasn’t anywhere remotely within his purview.
“Did you… have you gone to the med bay?”
“Of course I did!” she snapped, predictably, as a bigshot who was undoubtedly accustomed to getting whatever she wanted, the instant she wanted it. “No one was there! Why?!”
“I really don’t know.” Chris was unable to keep some sardonic deadpan out of his voice. For a moment, he saw a flash of anger in her eyes but then, unexpectedly, it was gone.
“I’m sorry,” the executive said. “Of course, you don’t know. It’s just that something… something is really wrong with me and I was hoping to get help right away.”
She grimaced slightly then, her eyes squeezing shut as she shuddered. Chris was alarmed, thinking she was about to pass out. He grabbed a chair and brought it over. “Please, take a seat..!”
The last thing he needed was the Chief Financial Officer keeling over on his lab floor. Ms. Davis fairly collapsed into the chair. She was fanning her flushed face with her hands now. “It’s hot… it’s so hot in here…”
“Is that what’s wrong? You’re feeling overheated?”
Chris rather regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. He wasn’t a medically trained professional; there was no reason to get involved in this. He should have just left her in her seat and gone to find help from someone else. Still, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but be aware that she’d been here not three days ago, getting stuck with a needle. And he’d been on the other end of that needle. He never should have agreed to that. But then again, he hadn’t exactly had a choice...
“It’s not that,” Ms. Davis answered, only now her head was turned up towards the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted together. “It’s… something else…”
“Ok, well…” Chris made a small gesture with his arms, indicating how totally useless he was to help. “Do you want a drink of water or something..?”
“No-- ggggh!” Ms. Davis made a small choking sound, tensing up. For a few moments, she was very still, as though trying to keep from exploding, but then she began to show signs of cracking, shuddering and twitching before her eyes snapped open, looking crazed and frantic. “I need…
“I need..!”
Her hands shot out in front of her, grasping at the crotch of Chris’ pants hard, nearly painfully so. The next moment, she was fumbling at his belt and zipper.
Chris knew then, instantly, what was happening. It was no coincidence, no coincidence at all, that something was wrong with Sara Davis. Still, even that knowledge didn’t allow him to overcome the shock of being abruptly groped and handled, and he stood there rooted to the floor, even as she undid his pants, roughly yanking them open and pulling out his manhood.
“Whoa, wait a minute--!” Chris found his voice, and briefly it appeared as though she was listening. A line creased Ms. Davis' forehead as she froze, her hands still at his crotch. For a moment, he thought she was going stop, but then she shuddered again, and with a blank look filling her eyes, she spilled out of the chair, down on her knees in front of him, seemingly not of her own volition, and took him into her mouth without hesitation.
Chris felt himself going instantly rock hard, even as his mind was reeling from this completely surreal experience. While his body instantly responded, mentally he was experiencing so many emotions and concerns in rapid-fire sequence that he was practically overloading.
First, he was beyond confused. Never in his whole life had a woman thrown herself at him-- like ever -- let alone to this extent and suddenness. No matter a woman’s level of intelligence, no matter her attractiveness, her level of financial success or any other metric that should otherwise equate to better judgement or at least higher standards, Chris was perpetually baffled and annoyed by all womankind’s propensity to find a “bad boy” attractive. Basically, the way to get a girl was to treat her like dirt. Nice guys who believed in manners and being a gentleman, with a stable job, well… they finished last. At least in Chris’ experience. At any rate, he’d never been in a situation that even remotely resembled the one at hand, and he had no clue what to do.
Beyond that, he was scared out of his mind. If someone walked into the lab at that moment, what would he say? Forget that, this was an executive on her knees in front of him. He was just some lowly lab tech peon. He couldn’t stop this if he wanted to, and if he did, what was going to happen? In fact, it was hard to think of how he didn’t get quickly fired no matter what came next after this.
And then finally, he couldn’t even figure out if he did want this or not. Ms. Davis was… not attractive. She was much older than he was, and he could somewhat tell that she looked even older than she actually was, which was probably due to a lifetime of working her ass off, supplemented by a poor diet and lots of alcohol to cope with all of the stress. Working a lot apparently did not equate to working out a lot, (though Chris had also seen the ultra-fit manic types as well). He could smell the sweat emanating from the damp fabric of her outfit. And Sara Davis was, frankly, well… fat. She was seriously overweight, probably technically obese. That had become something of a huge hang-up for Chris. Of the few girls he’d dated, every single one of them had been overweight. Going out on the weekends with male buddies to the bars, he’d try as best he could to strike up conversations with girls he found attractive, invariably striking out, since he didn’t know how to be as big an asshole as girls like that were apparently looking for, and then as the night progressed and he grew proportionately more intoxicated, his standards would go lower and lower…
In the morning, he’d be disgusted with himself. His friends would brag about their conquests and he was too ashamed to even participate on the occasions he actually did manage to go home with someone, he was so embarrassed by what his own girl looked like. Basically his whole life, he’d had to settle for whomever would settle for him. He’d even broken up with his one serious girlfriend for being too unattractive. Was that shallow of him? Maybe it was, but he just couldn’t get past knowing that he was settling for what he could get when the truth was that he really wanted more, even if that “more” was totally superficial.
And now, here he was, in this most bizarre of circumstances, like a scene out of a cheesy porno movie, only it was the same old usual struggle all over again, the battle of his hormones vs his “standards” and total lack of attraction.
Staring down at Ms. Davis’ red, sweating face, Chris already knew which was going to win. He hadn’t gotten laid in a long, long time, and she was just so enthusiastic. The mascara running down her round face was somewhere between enticing and off-putting, as was her damp shoulder-length hair, that bounced in time with her ministrations. Not that he was extensively experienced enough to make any real judgements, but her technique wasn’t particularly good; it was only made better by the raw hunger and desperation.
It was the knowledge of this last most thing that pushed Chris firmly over the edge. Knowing how badly she wanted this, how badly she needed this, and knowing that that desire was not her own, wasn’t under her control... Maybe it stemmed from all of his lack of success and inadequacy with women, but this was what really pushed Chris’ buttons. That stupid kink of his that had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place…
That last thought might’ve given Chris some pause, but Sara Davis drove it from his head, sucking hard as her head bobbed up and down. One of her hands was gripping his shaft as she worked away, and the other hand had gone between her legs, up her skirt. As much of a sweaty mess as she was, Chris couldn’t help notice that her face actually wasn’t all that bad looking. In fact, she might have been pretty if she were a little younger and a lot less heavyset. From his view, he was able to see down her blouse, though she didn’t have a particularly sizable bust and he could see some rolls of fat bunching on her abdomen from the way she was slightly hunched over. He ended up closing his eyes and focused on the feeling of her warm, wet mouth running up and down the length of him, her tongue lapping at his head.
Whatever his feelings on Ms. Davis’ attractiveness, it was still an embarrassingly short amount of time before Chris felt his pending climax approaching. It had, after all, been a long time since he’d felt anything other than his own hand. He tried his best to hold it back, but that only made him even more attuned to every small moment, every slight friction and sliding wetness, and even as he fought to prevent the pressure from building, still it only grew in intensity.
It was only at the penultimate moment that he had a stark moment of realization at exactly what was happening. He was about to orgasm, ejaculate right into the mouth of Gen-U-Tech’s Chief Financial Officer, kneeling right in front of him on the lab floor. This was unreal. It grounded him enough to buy a few more seconds of resolve, and then the agonizing, delayed release was too powerful to hold back any longer.
A strangled choke escaped his throat as the semen came blasting out, jetting all the harder for his attempts to keep it contained. He compulsively grabbed fistfuls of her hair, clutching as he half doubled over, his hips twitching uncontrollably.
“Ummmmmm! Mmmmmmmm, mmmmmmm!”
Through squinting eyes, he looked down at Ms. Davis, her own brown eyes sliding closed, moaning as though savoring the most decadent dessert of her life, clutching at his shaft, his seed dribbling down her chin. Her hand was still busy between her legs, moving at a frantic pace, her moans rising in urgency, and Chris knew she was having an orgasm of her own, all while she was sucking him off and swallowing his load.
Attracted to her or not, it was the hottest moment of his life.
