"The way I see it, it's a win, win, win, situation." She said smiling down at me. "We've gotten ourselves into a bit of a pickle here, everyone's done some things they shouldn't have, but I think this is the only way out."
My head was groggy. I seemed to be lying flat on the floor but I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there. My fingers and toes tingled. My head was swimming. I tried briefly, but I couldn't move.
Julie must have seen the panic set in on my face because she leaned in close and held my face with her hands. "Hushhh, it's ok. Everything will be ok. It's time for me to explain."
At 18 years old Julie was a vision. She had long, straight, strawberry blonde hair which was held up now in a pony tail that cascaded down to frame her beautiful face as she looked down at me. Her eyes were bright, bright blue and she had just a few light freckles on her porcelain skin. When she smiled her bright white teeth lit up almost as much as her blue eyes. But right now she wasn't smiling, her little brow was crinkled slightly and she was biting the corner of her soft, pink lower lip.
Holding my head in her soft hands Julie, who had been kneeling by my side, slid her leg over my waist and mounted me, never once breaking eye-contact with me. Her brow looked so worried. So I was worried. This is a girl whom I had learned to trust. As I thought my stomach turned... A girl whose trust I had betrayed...
Julie had come to me in her senior year of high school looking for something extra to put on her collage applications. She was smart and willing to work so I offered her a position as a lab assistant. Really ordinary stuff, organizing paperwork, answering phones, getting coffee. She was great to have around, but in an laboratory environment where I was running complicated experiments, with hundreds of thousands of dollars of funding on the line, how helpful could a teenage girl be?
I could feel the weight of Julie's little body pressing down on me. Her hips weighing down on my hips as she knelt over me and cradled my head in her hands. Well that's good, I thought, at least Im not paralyzed, at least I can feel below my waist. Julie's lab coat was hanging open and she was wearing a very casual, soft and worn-looking yellow tee shirt underneath it. The shirt had a little cartoon person printed on the chest and underneath in block letters was written Little Miss Helpful. The letters clung to Julie's tight stomach and stretched significantly across her very ample breasts. It had the look of being a childhood shirt she'd clung onto for sentimental reasons, and now, the way it clung onto her, it looked anything but childish.
The guilt turned my stomach once again. When Julie had come to me in the beginning of her senior year so many things had been different. The was before the funding had been cut. Back then I had actual lab assistants to run tests and the computer equipment to run complicated models. Once the funding dried up became just me and Julie, 10 hours every day, for months. Little Miss Helpful had been different back then too. And not just in the obvious physical ways. It's true that my experiment had had some quite obvious physical effects of Julie. The medicine had changed her appearance quite dramatically, something I'm sure everyone else, and Julie herself, chalked up to some sort of second growth spurt. Her skin, which had never been bad in the first place, became positively flawless, her cheeks always carrying a bit of a glow and her pink lips became just a little bit plumper. It gave her the impression of always just having run up a flight of stairs, or laughed incredibly hard at a good joke, or, frankly, been very well fucked. Her hair became thicker and more lustrous and her fingernails and toe nails, which she constantly showed off in flip-flops even in the lab to my dismay, grew a little faster and had more natural shine. All of these were subtle details of course, details only to be noticed by someone taking a very close, clinical look at Julie day after day after day to record any perceivable changes. To anyone observing the girl more casually, they simply would have noticed her breasts. In the three months since I first began giving Julie the fertility treatments her breasts had increased from a c cup to a heavy double d. Not an impossible amount of growth for a girl her age, not even in that amount of time. But certainly a remarkable change. Her shirts now, all stretched and puckered across her soft chest. Even her lab coat pulled tight when she buttoned it.
It was summer now. Julie had already applied to and been accepted to her top school. She'd be attending Stanford as a freshman this fall. That's what killed me: her loyalty. My staff left months ago, as soon as I told them I could no longer pay them due to budget cuts. But Julie stayed. Even after she got in to her first choice college, she stayed. She came to the lab every day to assist me. She took copious notes. She really believed in me, in a way that, after so many others had given up on me, allowed me to continue believing in myself. She helped me keep my eye on the prize: a new fertility drug, on that could help a woman create new ova. The holy grail of hormone therapy. And over all those hours looking at test results and chemical structures I started to trust her. I shared my secrets with her. Julie knows why I'm so driven to get this right. She knows it's my one shot at conceiving a child with my wife. And still, every day for the last three months, I've betrayed her. I've dosed her with the medicine we've both agreed just isn't ready for human trials. But the last of the money will be gone at the end of the summer. And when Julie goes off to Stanford, if I don't have this drug ready, I'll have nothing. No more lab assistant. No more lab. No job, and nothing to show for my work. No family to raise with my wife. No future. Nothing.
And so I'd done what I had done.
"You poor thing" Julie whispered "You look so pained"
How could I begin to tell her what I'd done to her.
"Can you move yet?" she asked? "Oh, of course, you can't answer. I'll take that as a no. But you can still feel right? You can feel this?" she said as she leaned down and took my earlobe into her lips, rolling it between her tongue and her teeth gently. "My, my, you certainly can can't you."