The following is a work of fiction and contains pornography. If you are under 18, stop reading now. For those who continue reading, please realize that this is fiction and outside the realm of reality. In other words, if you take this stuff seriously, you need a psychiatric evaluation.
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Teaching high school seniors can be a very frustrating job. Most of the kids have burnt out their paranoia about getting into a good school and by the end of the year, I'm lucky if they even show up to class. When you care about students learning, it's enough to make your teeth grind.
What's even more frustrating is having to see the girls. Eighteen years old, their bodies perfectly curved, their lips swollen and eager to kiss... looking at them drives my middle-aged body wild. Throw in the fact that they wouldn't look twice at a 39 year old, scrawny science teacher without laughing and it just makes it all worse. I can look but can't touch. Hell, let's be honest. I can't really look either without getting into trouble. I have to constantly remind myself to maintain eye contact at all times instead of staring at their luscious breasts or delicious legs.
Lately, I had been conducting some research on the side into pheromones and hormones. Yeah, it's the classic nerd story of a guy so desperate to get laid that he tries to invent a love potion. I know enough science to know it's impossible, but the geek in me still likes to fantasize. That's all it was, a fantasy. I never, ever expected any of them to work or even thought about trying to test them to see if they could.
Acquiring the chemicals I needed was easy. Working in a high school science lab is one of the last places where a person can still get easy access to chemicals. Getting the samples of pheromones was a little tougher, until I realize that I was in a location surrounded by walking pheromone factories, i.e. teenagers.
A few visits to the locker rooms garnered what I needed. I used the excuse that I was conducting a science experiment about what bacteria colonized the locker rooms. I also used the opportunity to plant some hidden webcams in the girls' locker room, but that's a story for another day. I later went further and had kids submit dirty swathes of underwear and t-shirts saying that we would grow bacteria from them to see what their bodies harbored. In reality, I was trying to extract pheromones from the swathes.
So how would a love potion work exactly? I broke the problem down several ways. It would have to be more than just a drug to lower a woman's inhibitions or sexually excite her. If the potion were merely an aphrodisiac, then it probably wouldn't benefit me. A girl suddenly finding herself sexually excited, would most likely turn to one of the football players and not to a scrawny science teacher. I needed something that created loyalty and dedication as well as have an aphrodisiac quality to it.
The medication lorazapam was known to lower some inhibitions at moderate doses. Some studies showed that it increased susceptibility to hypnosis as well. Oxytocin was known as the trust hormone and studies had borne this out as well as giving some evidence that it created emotional bonds. Estrogen, testosterone, and others were all diligently explored, as well as a wide mix of other drugs. These were my starting points.
I guess I should point out again, I never planned on testing any of my potions. It was all fantasy. I could fantasize about these potions working and jerk off to these daydreams in the privacy of my home, but I knew any such attempt at a love potion would likely make anyone subjected to it sick. Not to mention that it would be a horribly unethical thing to actually try and do. It was just a crazy odd hobby that I had. I never took it seriously. It was pure fantasy that I was indulging in.
But then Beth happened.
Beth was this 18 year old girl that puberty had overlooked. No breasts or hips. Looking at her, she looked like a stretched out elementary school kid. She meant really well, but she was also always horribly clumsy. Probably because she was so self-conscious. She was the kid in school that no one ever thinks of or remembers. She hardly ever says a word. She hid behind her hair, which dangled in front of her face. She always sat the furthest away from any discussion or activity and strived very hard avoid being noticed. I guess I kinda felt sad for her. She reminded me of how I was in high school.
She drifted into my class to feed the lab animals during one lunch period and we slowly built up a friendship over time. I never hit on her or even thought about it... she seemed totally prepubescent, the little daughter that I never had.
I don't know if my friendship was what encouraged her, if she was coming out of her shell naturally, or if she was trying to improve her chances of getting into a good college, but she signed up to be a flag girl.
The day she was accepted, she was so excited. School had been out for about an hour as she ran down to my classroom wearing her new uniform and carrying her flagstaff and gym bag. She made her way into my backroom where I had been idly working on my potions. I stopped what I was doing as she eagerly described the tryouts.
She seemed so happy and excited, I just wanted to encourage her. I urged her to re-enact the tryout.
She brushed her hair out of her face... she did have a cute face, but hiding behind her hair had long ago resulted in her face breaking out with acne. This just reinforced her tendency to hide her face even more. Seeing her smile bloom from under her usually hidden face was my highlight of the day.
She picked up her flagstaff and started to twirl it about, the flag forming complex patterns as she whirled it to and fro. I knew about her tendency to be accident-prone. Heck, I had her in science class for three years and the number of beakers and flasks she had broken were an obvious testament to it. She was just so excited and happy at the moment, that I had forgotten.
She was doing great, until she moved a little too far to the right and in the small confines of the backroom that was enough. The staff whacked against my experiment and its trailing flag wrapped itself around my beaker containing my most recent attempt at a potion. The flag lifted the beaker into the air....
Beth, instantly realized what had happened and froze, her self-consciousness crashing down upon her in full force... much like how the beaker, now suspended above her, crashed down upon her.
The beaker survived the impact, but not without dumping its contents all over Beth's head. She got a thorough dosing. It poured down her head and onto her chest and feet. I immediately went over to her, grabbing a nearby towel.
She looked at me with eyes wide with shock, and I watched as they filled with tears as she started to flush with embarrassment.
She broke eye contact, staring down at her shoes,
"I'm so sorry!" she whispered in agony, "it was an accident. I'll clean it up, I'm sorry".
She took her left hand and bit down on the knuckle of her index finger in nervousness. I didn't notice at the time that her hands had been covered with my solution as well.
She kept on repeating "I'm sorry" over and over.
I touched her chin lightly with my hand and lifted her face up. Her teary eyes met mine.
"It's okay. Really".
Her eyes locked onto mine, pleading. Her face was covered with orange gunk too. In a beaker, the smell had been contained somewhat. Spread all over Beth, it stunk to high heaven. Still, I saw Beth's tongue slip out and lick her orange covered lips, at first moistening them, but then darting out again and obviously tasting.
I pulled my eyes away from her lips... part of me was already wondering what the potion could do to her. Should I call poison control?
