College was a time for experimentation and Jaime Howell, a budding scientist, knew that this was his time to create something on the cutting edge.
Jaime, a double major in biology and psychology, was as fascinated with the human mind and its affect on the nervous system—or vice versa—as he was on the chemical makeup of the human body.
As a self-proclaimed gay man, Jaime was almost obsessed about the nature of human sexuality. Is sexuality a conscious decision, an unconscious decision or one learned by a person's environment? Are we more inclined to a certain type of sexual behavior based on cultural mores, sociological trends or simply based on one's peers?
Jaime recognized he had no choice in the matter. The doctors told him he simply had more Y chromosomes than X chromosomes and rather than take any steps to have a sex change, he was stronger than that. He loved the person he was and appreciated the life he lived despite being depicted by society as a minority and "abnormal" in his sexuality compared to heterosexual men.
Had Jaime been heterosexual, he might have been religious, but his religion abandoned him based on his nature. He might have been married by now, but gay marriage as legal was continuously bantered about in many states. Still, he was happy with his studies and the possibility of a new invention that could change the world—or simply his own realm of existence.
Jaime's roommate, Mitchell Reardon, was a heterosexual male. Albeit open-minded, he made it clear to Jaime he was not interested in any sexual experimentation. Mitchell once said to Jaime that he never thought of another man sexually because it did not excite him at all. A woman, however, excited Mitchell to no end.
Everything about a woman excited Mitchell, including the different body parts—the breasts, the vagina, the shapeliness of a woman's figure. He loved to see a woman's nipples, the different sizes and colors of the nipple. The pubic hair on the vagina—shaved, semi-shaved or more bush, it didn't matter to Mitchell. He loved a woman's shapely ass as much as her sensitivity. For this reason, Mitchell also found it difficult to stay with only one woman. In this sense, Mitchell was experimenting in college. He found all different types of women and enjoyed each one for who they were.
Clearly, Jaime and Mitchell had an "odd couple" relationship on sexuality alone, and whether it was envy or curiosity, Jaime admired Mitchell. He fantasized about what Mitchell would look like nude, the size of his cock when it was rock hard, the man's pubic hair around it, his hairy ass and his chest. Many times, Jaime would masturbate in his room late at night, thinking of Mitchell standing in front of him, naked from head to toe, hard and erect, playing with his cock to amuse Jaime.
Once, when both of them were drunk, semi-jokingly, Jamie said they should whack off together. He dared not sound sincere as it could have sent Mitchell packing to live somewhere else. Mitchell simply laughed at the idea, saying, "I don't go both ways."
Jaime knew some guys in fraternities who did circle jerks or races to see who could cum fastest. Some guys were bisexual as well. But Jamie wanted to masturbate with another man to feel erotic, primarily with a heterosexual man.
This idea led to Jaime's obsession and his new cutting edge experiment. He wanted to create a formula that would weaken the mental strength of another human being and make him or her lose their sexual inhibitions—much like alcohol. But Jamie wanted to bring the mind back a step further, to an unconscious state. The person affected would waken from a trance-induced state aware of everything around them, but everything inside the mind would be asleep. It would almost be as if the person were a live puppet or marionette, controlled by another person's orders.
It was not a novel concept, but the creation of a true "Spanish Fly" in a drink that had never truly come to fruition. Jamie figured that everyone in the world would purchase it and use it on someone unattainable. Perhaps it was a sad statement on human nature, Jaime thought, but human beings have always wanted power over others and he was no exception. He wanted power over Mitchell.
Jaime poured the ingredients together, combining elements of alcohol with ingredients from tranquilizers and sodium pentothal. The dosages were thought out down to the milliliter. Too much would be too dangerous and not enough would make the pill too weak. When Jaime walked out of his laboratory, after hours of pouring liquids from beaker to beaker, he held a formula in his hand, in pill form, he believed would work.
Whether the formula worked or not, Jamie did not want to see an adverse reaction that could send Mitchell to the hospital. For that reason, he tested one of the pills on himself, twisting the capsule so that the liquid within dropped into his water.
Jaime sat on the couch after taking a small dosage. At first, he felt nothing. But then, a numbing sensation followed with the feeling of paralysis. He could not move, although he would move if someone told him to. He was open to suggestion. Anything anybody wanted him to do, he would. He knew he would. But, nobody was giving him a command. At one point, he craved a command. He would do anything at all. He would suck his thumb if told; he would take off all his clothes; he would dance, sing, pray to someone if he was told by that person. He would do anything. He just wanted someone to tell him what to do. Someone to give him a command was all he asked.
Soon, the feeling started to wear off. The paralysis went away along with the craving. He was back in command of himself again. However, he also knew the formula would work well and it was safe for the recipient.
Jaime put the remaining pills into a small pill bottle and placed it next to the refrigerator. Moments later, Mitchell arrived home, holding his golf clubs. The real experiment was about to begin.
Mitchell saw Jaime walking out of the kitchen.
"Hey man," Mitchell said, putting the clubs into the closet on his right side.
"Hello Mitchell. Good game today?" Jaime replied.
"Nah, I was just practicing." Mitchell took off his cap but left his jacket on. "Damn I'm thirsty."
"I'll get you a beer. I was just going to get one myself," Jaime said, overly excited and almost amazed at how perfect the situation worked. Jaime believed in Karma, and if this experiment was meant to be, it will be. All conditions seemed right.
"Thanks," Mitchell said, slightly confused as to Jaime's eagerness. He walked to the couch while Jaime went to the kitchen. Mitchell turned on the television and switched the channels to a golf match. Jaime, meanwhile, nonchalantly poured two beers and added the liquid from another pill, the formula, to the beer on the left. Magic potion, Jamie thought to himself.
"What's going on tonight?" Jaime yelled from the kitchen, to ensure they had time together without interruption.
"Nothing," Mitchell said. "Might just go over to Masters Hall and see what's up. Otherwise, I might just take a nap until then." Masters Hall was a dorm where many of Mitchell's friends would hang out, party, play board games or cards. For Jaime, it was again Karma. A nap would be the perfect excuse for Mitchell to believe his unconscious moments were all a dream. His last command would be for Mitchell to fall asleep, not remembering anything that happened. If he did, it would all be remembered as a dream. The most important thing for Jaime was not to ruin their friendship, because Jaime did not want Mitchell to leave him.
Jaime returned with both beers, remembering that the tainted beer was in his left hand and the one he handed to Mitchell.
"Thanks." Mitchell grabbed the beer and took a healthy swig, almost chugging it halfway down the Pilsner glass. Jaime smiled.
"Oh that's good." Mitchell licked his lips, and put his arms back on top of the couch as if he were waiting for two women to sit under each one.
Jaime sat drinking his beer in the reclining chair next to the couch. "How's your beer. Sounds like you like it."
"I needed that. Don't know why I was so thirsty."
