Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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"Professor Johnson, I just need a few more days—maybe a week or two at most—and I know I can perfect it."
"Mr. White, you've been saying that all semester. You have been one of the brightest prodigies we've had at this university. While the grant you received from the National Pharmaceutical Company to develop the next sexual stimulation drug using CRISPR DNA splicing process had great promise, it's not sufficient to-"
"I know the results have been inconclusive until now, but I just need a few more trials to collect enough data to prove my work is valid!"
My professor Dr. Johnson was not a patient man. He had a PhD in Biological Chemistry from MIT among the other multiple degrees, and had decades of experimental research under his belt. He had been a role model, a mentor and even, dare I say it, a surrogate father figure to me. He was there for me a hell of a lot more than my actual father who had become a drunk, abusive husband and, from what I came to found out recently, an adulterer.
My name is Charles Alexander White, I'm twenty-three years old and I still live at home with my mother. I wouldn't have been there if not for her drug addiction. I'm likely the only thing standing between her and an imminent opioid overdose.
The only person I could trust was my undergrad student aide, Stephanie. Stephanie was a college sophomore, nineteen, and still in that awkward phase: no longer a girl but not quite a woman either. She had light brown hair, hazel eyes, and, while she was cute in her own way, she had a body like a stick. Not that I really had time or interest in carnal relationships when I was so focused on my research. She was an ideal lab assistant: helpful without getting in my way as I developed new compounds. My latest combined the ability of psilocybin to reboot the brain through neurogenesis with a special CRISPR viral agent that would repair damaged telomeres within the DNA. The hope was that the two elements working in harmony would have the power to completely cure addiction no matter what form it took, from alcohol to gambling to—nearest to my heart—opioids.
But now my time was running out both figuratively and literally. My grant from the mega corporation National Pharmaceutical Company (NPC) had run out, and when they learned of the true nature of my research, there was no hope for a renewal. I'd told them that I was developing a next-generation viagra they could market to men and women. When they found out I was working on a cure for addiction instead, I could tell they practically wanted to torch the whole laboratory down; after all, drug addicts were their best customers.
I had thought I had more time. But it turned out that my mentor Dr. Johnson was in the pocket of Big Pharma all along, "Mr. White, you will box up all your research notes and collect all the samples you have made to date. Miss Klein, how many is that exactly?"
Stephanie, while trying to be loyal to me, eagerly offered "Twelve, sir. We had created fifteen, but with the three failed trials, there are only twelve left."
In truth, we had made twenty-seven of the gel capsules. We had hidden the remaining twelve in my desk.
"Good," Dr. Johnson grunted, "Please help Mr. White collect them and have the entire inventory delivered to my office by the end of the day."
"Please, Dr. Johnson. You don't understand, I really need just one more trial. My mother...she's at the end of her rope. If we can't wean her off the addiction now, she might not last the week."
"I feel for you Mr. White, but my hands are tied. NPC officials will be here in the morning to collect the data, and if we can give them something, then maybe they will not sue us for false advertising. I doubt they were expecting their money to be spent on a "cure" that could cripple their business. You must understand the situation you've place the university in, Charles."
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought it might crack, "I understand, sir."
I understood that I'd do whatever it took to save my family.
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That night I was at my computer going through my options. Without the resources of the university lab, I couldn't produce any more of the pills. Looking for an alternative wasn't promising. I had neither the results and credentials that would make me trustworthy at other universities, nor the thousands of dollars I'd need in the private sector. And I didn't have time for either option.
As I chased yet another dead end, I heard the door to my bedroom open and a familiar voice called out to me. "Sweetie, do you have a moment?"
I turned around in my chair and saw my mother in the doorway. She was dressed in a baggy t-shirt with no bra underneath and an old pair of blue pajama bottoms. Her dirty blonde hair was getting a bit ratty from skipping showers for a few days and her skin was blotchy like a teen going through puberty. She was not what you'd expect at all from a forty-three-year-old woman. She still had her figure, though it was a bit pear-shaped with extra plumpness around her waist and hips.
Looking at her I saw a body that had enjoyed the hell out of life back in her twenties but hadn't done a thing to keep it healthy since. Years of neglect had taken a hard toll on my mom even before my dad and the accident. It was a moment that changed our family forever. They were coming home from a Christmas party and my dad shouldn't have been driving after all the wine they'd both had. My dad swerved to miss a deer crossing the road and crashed the car into a telephone pole.
My dad came away from it with a few bruised ribs but the accident completely shattered my mom's pelvis along with the scapula of her shoulder alongside thirteen other breaks. She was in a medically induced coma for weeks, in traction for months, and, when she came out of it, was completely addicted to pain pills. It was codeine to start, but quickly moved to OxyContin, and finally ended on Fentanyl. We blew through our savings and my dad had to work double-shifts to support us. I took out five-figure student loans to get my BS in Chemistry, hoping I could get hired by NPC. I needed to pay off my loans, help my family, and most importantly, save my mother and those like her from the poisons slowly killing them.
"How's it going? Are you-... did you finish? Can I see?" She was like a kid fidgeting on Christmas morning before being allowed to open presents. It might have been cute if she wasn't due to her addiction.
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"Mom, you look terrible, have you showered? There are clean clothes in the hamper. You know you need to take care of yourself. I can't be here taking care of your needs constantly."
She folded her arms across her stomach, evidently annoyed with me. "Charles, sweetie, don't forget your place here. If you keep up that tone, the one where it's like you're talking to a child, I'm not going to stand for it." She sighed, placing her hand on her shoulder. "I'm just having a bad day. I've run out of my medicine and I'm hurting something awful."
I didn't say anything. I could tell that, rather than annoyed, she was feeling more ashamed with herself than anything and this was her way of hiding it from me.
She continued, "I remember you told me how close you were coming up with a cure, some anti-drug that could help me with my... well, needs.."
"I said I was close, but Dr. Johnson just confiscated my research and demanded I turn over everything I had to him to give to NPC, which I expect they will want to destroy. I just needed a few more days and one more test subject. I'm so sorry I've let you down, Mother."
I showed her a tray of blue-colored pills on my desk saying, "Thanks to some help from my lab assistant Stephanie, I was able to bring home these last few samples and a copy of my research notes I emailed to myself, so maybe, just maybe..."
Rather than listen anymore, she snatched one of the pills from out of the tray compartment and shoved it into her mouth, dry-swallowing it in one gulp, "Sorry, Charles, Mommy was just too excited to see what you'd made."
"Oh shit, Mom, you really shouldn't have done that!" I said as I stared at her in shock.
She stared back.
Silence.
"Mom...? How are you feeling?"
Part of me thought that maybe I shouldn't have brought these pills home. But the other part, the Dr. Jekyll or Dr. Frankenstein side that probably lurks in all the "too smart for their own good" scientists in the world thought this might happen. I knew how impulsive she was. Part of me knew that this would happen and I had subconsciously orchestrated it.
My mother was going to be my last test subject, and hopefully the beginning of the end to opioid addiction—maybe even all addictions everywhere.
Please God, let there be no side-effects this time.
The moment passed and I realized she hadn't answered the question. She hadn't said anything. Or moved from her spot. She was frozen in place, as still as a statue!
"Mom. Mom?! Can you hear me?" I waved my hand in front of her face, but her eyes were frozen and dilated. My mind wandered towards stories I'd heard of research into tonic immobility, a phenomenon where animals would be completely frozen in place after being exposed to a simple trigger. But I'd never heard of it being induced by a drug.
She was just standing there, mouth hanging open, eyes glassy, arms limp at her side. That was not supposed to happen! The prior 3 trials were all with animals which had exhibited some reduction in addictive behavior and, after falling asleep for several days, they returned to their original addicted, highly agitated states. Worse, none of them survived more than a month from starting the trial. With no way to understand what was happening in their emotional response centers, the results were deemed inconclusive and the plug was pulled when I suggested human trials.
"No way, the FDA would allow human trials. Not until we fix that 'kills you a month after taking it' problem." Stephanie reminded me just last week. We were working late one night when I had got a frantic call from my mom about my dad. She found out he was cheating on her and she was really broken up about it, using up all her remaining Fentanyl in one massive binge.
That's why I was so desperate to fix the formula and save my mother. My father would be another story.
Meanwhile, time stretched on for what I thought was forever until I heard her reply, "I...hear you..."
I breathed out a sigh of relief. She wasn't a vegetable. Still, I didn't understand what had caused this tonic immobility. Maybe some effect on the brain of higher developed mammals compared to the animal trials I had been allowed to test on.
I spoke to her with my most reassuring tone, "If my latest formula works, you should wake up in a few minutes and stop craving those painkillers. You can act like yourself again."
Since this was the first human trial, I had no idea if that was true at all. At this point, I could only hope.
I just wanted my mother to go back to normal. Back to the woman who had raised me, not the shadow of herself she'd become. She hadn't the energy or desire to make rice, let alone a full meal, in years.
"I really miss your cooking. All I want is for you to enjoy cooking for me again just like the old times."
