Euphrates Pharmaceuticals: Back-Door Medicine
Nicky Noxville
All my stories take place in a parallel world, very similar to our own, where STI's do not exist, so my stories are filled with practices that are highly unsafe in this world. I'm not going to say don't try this at home, but take care of yourself.
All my characters are of legal age, and you should be, too—do not read my stories if you are under the legal age in your country/area. Any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events is entirely coincidental.
This story is brought to you by my wonderful readers. I love you guys!
And now, our feature presentation...
***
"Ooh, here's one he's qualified for!" My older brother, Randolph, said in excitement, allowing his fork to clink onto his plate as he focused on his phone screen.
"What is it?" Mom asked, her interest piqued.
"It's with Euphrates Pharmaceuticals," he began, making it clear that he wanted us to go after the details.
"That's a good company to work for," Dad spoke up between bites of mashed potatoes.
"Is it full-time?" Mom asked.
They were doing it again—I just went on eating as they planned out my future for me, making little fork-sized nests with my potatoes and tipping a few peas into each one, like little eggs. Randolph noticed and gave me a disgusted look—he hated mixing food. I scooped a nest into my mouth; mixing food didn't bother me in the least.
"No, it's a temporary position assisting with a medical research study," he answered vaguely, his grin spreading wider, wicked, in response to my silent mixed-food taunt.
"Just read the damn advertisement and stop making us dig for it," Dad finally snapped.
"Yes, sir. Following the legalization of cannabis," Randolph quoted, "Euphrates Pharmaceuticals is seeking volunteers for a medical study on a variety of cannabis products. Participants will receive room and board for the duration and will be compensated $500 per day at the completion of the study."
Silence fell as he finished reading. My face had gone red—I knew exactly what Randolph was doing. After I'd turned eighteen and graduated, I started smoking pot.
It was legal, why not?
But Randolph had caught me, and he'd been holding it over my head. He was twenty, and I was pretty sure he'd at least tried it, too, but I hadn't been the one to catch him at it, and it was clear that he had no intention of letting me forget about it any time soon.
Dad's face was red, too, though in his case it was for different reasons.
"Legal or not, this is a Christian household and we will have none of the Devil's Lettuce under my roof!" He ranted. I could see Randolph struggling not to laugh at the mess he'd intentionally stirred up.
"Yes, sir," Randolph said, letting the joke go, but he barely sounded apologetic at all.
"Besides, if they're paying that much money, you know it's sinful," he said in a calmer tone. "What Roscoe really needs is a good, hard-working, minimum wage job."
"Be serious, you two. Roscoe needs a real job now that he's an adult, and since he decided not to go to college," Mom interjected, politely spinning my lack of a college future to a choice, and not rejections from everywhere I'd applied. The conversation went on without me as Randolph found a few real job listings to read aloud.
After dinner, Randolph and I were cleaning up in the kitchen. He stepped up beside me, fiddling with his phone for a few seconds before turning off his screen and slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Right as my phone buzzed in my own pocket.
"You're welcome. I just sent you that ad. I could tell you were interested, pot-head."
"Cut it out," I said, irritated.
"Haha, your face is so red. Come on, bro, think about it. We both know you didn't decide not to go to college—you couldn't get in anywhere."
"Shut up!" I barked.
"Think about it. You need to take advantage of your marketable skills. You might never have another chance to make money like this." He started cackling and walked out of the room, leaving me to finish cleaning up on my own.
I stared up at the stars, sitting on the roof outside my bedroom window, and took a hit from the little glass pipe I kept hidden in a tin next to the windowsill—Dad did always say not under his roof, so I went over it.
I couldn't believe Randolph had done that to me in front of Mom and Dad.
I couldn't believe they were paying $500 a day to test out cannabis products.
I didn't want Randolph to win, but there was no way I could pass up on this...
"But where are you going?" Mom asked, her eyes dewy, at breakfast the next morning.
"I have it planned out," I said, putting the map with an imaginary route highlighted. "I just need to get away for a while and figure out what to do next.
"How are you going to pay for all this?" Dad asked.
"I've been saving money, and I'll find work along the way. I found a whole website about ways to make money on the road," I kept spinning my tale. "I need to do this." Randolph clearly didn't buy it, but Mom and Dad did, so I packed up in my car and headed downtown to the Euphrates building.
The beginning of things was not at all what I had expected. I'd filled out the paperwork, and they'd brought me down to a basement room. It was a nice room, but I'd been stuck here for twenty-four hours with nothing to eat because they needed me to fast before the first trial. I had a TV but laying in a hospital bed and watching TV gets old fast.
I wanted to do this!
The elevator dinged, and the doctor I'd met briefly the day before walked in, the light shining on his silver hair.
"Uh, Hi, Doctor..." I struggled.
"Delaney," he reminded me politely. Two guys about Randolph's age had gotten off the elevator behind him, both dressed in blue scrubs. "These are my assistants, Chance and Bryson."
"Pleased to meet you," they said together.
"They will be conducting todays experiment under my supervision. Now, it looks like all the T's have been crossed and the I's dotted, so let's proceed. For this study, we plan to investigate several cannabis compounds and delivery methods. Today we will be checking the effectiveness of delivery via suppository—"
"Suppository?" I cut him off. "Like, in my butt?" I asked, wide-eyed.
"That is correct, Mr. Brooks," he answered my question.
"Can you even do that?" I questioned, incredulous.
"It's actually one of the most effective and efficient delivery methods, and let me reassure you—going by the look on your face, I can guarantee you that what we are talking about is much smaller than you are imagining; I assure you that there will be no pain."
"Still... I don't know if I can do that..." I hemmed.
"You are, of course, still free to withdraw from the study," he reminded me. "But you will not be compensated unless you complete the trials. If it helps, every other subject has described the experience as highly enjoyable, once they got past the psychological discomfort."
"I... I don't know..."
"The choice is yours, but please choose. I need to move on to the next subject if you don't want to proceed." He tapped his foot and looked down at me.
It had to go up my butt, but $500 a day! If I went through with this, I was guaranteed at least $1000 for my two days...
"Okay," I caved in. "I'll do it."
"Excellent. Gentlemen, you know what to do. Roscoe, I'll see you again this evening. You're in good hands with these two." He walked over to the elevator and swiped his card to open the doors, leaving me alone with the two younger men.
"Don't worry, it really isn't bad at all," Chance reassured me, smiling warmly.
"They're tiny," Bryson expanded. "It'll be over in no time. Just roll over onto your side," he grabbed my shoulder and rolled me away from them. "Good, and bend your leg like this," he positioned my upper leg so that it was bent at the knee. I gasped as I felt one of them lift aside the back of the open hospital gown they'd given me to wear.
