Teuser's Formula

Part 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: All of my stories have been written for an exclusively adult audience. They contain descriptions of violence, some of it of a sexual nature. They also include other sexually explicit depictions. They are in no way suitable for minors. Furthermore it is against the law in many parts of the world for this type of material to be read, either by minors or by minors and adults. Please make sure you are not acting contrary to local legislation before reading on and please do not read any further if you find this type of material offensive in any way. This is a work of fiction and any similarity between the characters and events depicted and any people/events in real-life, past or present, is purely co-incidence. A number of the characters and events portrayed are inspired by, or based upon, existing works of fiction. Although I have made every effort to keep plagiarism to a minimum, I must acknowledge a debt of thanks to the many artists and writers who have shared their talents with the public. I've released my stories to the public domain to make sure that as many people as possible who share my interest in this type of fiction can enjoy them. Please feel free to re-distribute them by whatever means you like, provided you respect the following points: (1) The stories will be re-distributed exactly as they are - unchanged and unedited. (2) No other person will claim authorship of any of these stories or any part of them. (3) The stories will not be distributed for profit, either on their own or as part of a group of other works. Lastly, thank you for your interest in this story. I hope you enjoy it!


Ivana strolled past the usual sights without paying them any attention.  Her mind was fully occupied with the confusing events of the previous twenty hours.  She'd been beaten up by a client.  Nothing new there.  Then she'd gone looking for revenge - again, no surprises - seeking vengeance was completely in her character.  But after that... She'd fainted in the street, accepted a ride from an elderly stranger and then, for no apparent reason, she'd felt an irresistible urge to perform oral sex on him.  Free of charge.  And she'd enjoyed it.  Later, back at home, she'd seen that her nasty-looking cuts and bruises had miraculously almost healed.   All that, plus the fact that her body now seemed gripped by an unusually healthy glow both internally and externally.

She almost collided with a push chair containing a miserable looking toddler and, brought swiftly out of her fog of thought, swerved her body at the last moment to avoid the crash.  The young woman pushing the chair gave her an irritated look.  Ivana decided she would be better off doing her thinking sitting down rather than walking down the High Street.  Spotting a familiar tiny patch of green on the other side of the street, and noticing that the bench in the middle of it was vacant, she made her way towards it.  On the way, she diverted on impulse into a convenient newsagent's.  A chocolate bar, she reckoned, would help her to think.

Ivana had been into the shop before.  Countless times, in fact.  She brought a lot of emergency "top-up" stuff there - tea, coffee, sugar, milk as well as sweets.  It was a lot more expensive than the supermarket, but much closer to her flat.  She'd gone in there so many times, in fact, that she remembered the heavy metal and glass door, its ill-fitting, damaged frame and its bulky rusted hinges.  All in all, the door was a bugger to open.  She recalled how, on many occasions, she'd been carrying some shopping and had barely been able to push the thing open by herself.  This time, she was prepared.  She leant her shoulder into the metal as she gave a hefty shove.

To her great surprise, the door flew open with an almighty groan from its worn hinges and deformed frame.  It felt as easy as a brand-new, well-installed lightweight door, but when she looked it was the same old dull, scratched and filthy thing.  "Fixed the door at last, eh?" she called out in friendly tones to the aged woman behind the counter at the far end of the shop.  The woman looked puzzled for a moment before replying in her heavy South Asian accent:

"No.  Still very bad.  My husband is too busy to fix."

"Seems alright to me." Ivana opined, opening and closing the door over and over again with one hand.  The loud scraping sound of metal on metal that had greeted her initial entrance repeated each time the door passed its midway point.  With a shrug, she walked up to the wall-long chocolate display, picking out her favorite and carrying it up to the counter.  She paid and left, the old woman's cheery "Goodbye!" ringing in her ears as she yanked the door open - again, with the greatest of ease - and went out into the street.

As she approached the awaiting park bench, she did not spot the large, well-built man wearing dirty jeans, a greasy T-shirt and a builder's helmet who passed her.  She did not seem him turn in front of the newsagent's and grasp the handle.  She failed to notice him pushing and grunting, his muscles bulging as it took him two shoulder charges to finally force the door open.  When he finally entered the shop, he was puffing. "Jesus," he called out, "when are you going to sort that friggin' door?"  The old woman sighed.



Pain.  Terrible pain.  Mind-filling, breath-impeding pain.  His head was pounding, but that was nothing compared to the throbbing that came from his arm.  Sam Teuser sat up slowly.  The room seemed to spin around him.  This was no good.  He was never going to get to sleep properly.  Whatever was wrong with his arm, he had to get it attended to immediately.  If that meant dragging himself to a hospital, then that was what he had to do.

It took him five minutes to dress.  He couldn't move his arm even so much as a millimeter without causing fresh waves of agony.  Maneuvering himself into a shirt brought tears to his bloodshot eyes.  Fastening his trousers was almost impossible.  But he could not go out naked.  He realised that driving was not an option, and grabbing a few well-used banknotes, he decided to try and find a cab outside.  Gingerly, he made his way downstairs, blinking as he opened the front door.  Even the weak, early-evening sunlight proved painful in his hung-over state.

He glanced left and right, trying to compute in which direction lay the most likely cab-hailing point.  There, directly in front of him, his squinting eyes alighted on a curiously familiar car that was parked right outside his flat.  The pain in his arm was terrible, and he would have paid no more attention to the vehicle if he hadn't spotted the figure inside.  Something clicked in his agony-riddled brain.  It was Professor Lindstrom's car.  And the strangely immobile person looked a lot like Lindstrom.  Teuser shuffled closer to take a look.  It was the Professor and he was asleep.   Without sparing a thought for what his ex-mentor was doing sleeping in a parked car outside his flat, Teuser knocked on the driver's window.



Lindstrom awoke with a start.  He felt awful.  So tired, as if he hadn't slept for a week.  His testicles ached, reminding him of the strange events of earlier.  A dull empty feeling, centered on his groin, spread as wide as his belly and his hips.  Wearily he looked towards the sound that had disturbed his sleep. "Teuser!" he cried.  He hurried to open the door, finding the effort lifting the handle surprisingly hard.  "Teuser, we've got to talk.  About your form-"

"-Never mind that." Teuser interrupted.  "You've got to drive me to a hospital.  I think I've broken my arm."

"Your arm?  For goodness sake, man, how did you do that?  Look at the state of you.  Sam, we've got to talk."  Teuser was already making his way around to the passenger side of the car.  He tried the door, but it was locked.  The professor leant across the vacant seat next to him to release the lock, and found he could barely stretch far enough to reach.  He felt as if he'd suddenly aged about ten years.

Eventually, they got the door open.  Teuser climbed in with great care and tried to fasten the seat-belt with one hand for a while before giving up in frustration.  "Please, Professor Lindstrom," he pleaded, "take me to a hospital."  The old man looked at his companion despairingly and fished the keys from his pocket.  His hand was shaking as he found the ignition.  Even the simple act of turning the key to start the engine tired him.  The Professor pulled out into traffic.  He might have been taking Teuser to a casualty department, but he felt as though it was he who needed to see a doctor.



Lynne sighed as she reached down and pulled another shirt from the basket by her side.  From the next room, she heard the muffled sound of gunfire.  Another action movie, no doubt.  Gary loved his action movies.  He watched one almost every night on satellite TV while she was busy elsewhere in the house.  Tonight, she was ironing.  She didn't know why her husband had to have ten clean, well-pressed shirts every week - he hardly ever seemed to go to work.  All she knew was that if, one week, she only put eight shirts in the cupboard her old man would go mental.  And she didn't like being around Gary when he was in a mood.

She took a break to make herself a cup of tea.  Opening the fridge, she pulled out the milk.  Only enough left in the bottle for another couple of drinks.  She'd have to leave a note for the milkman for the morning or there'd not be enough for Gary's cornflakes.   That would make Gary angry, too.  She left the tea-bag in the hot water to brew as she carried her hastily scribbled note to the front door.  She stuffed the little scrap of paper into an empty bottle on the door step and closed the door to return to her tea.

"Lynne?!?" Gary yelled.  The sound of the door closing always stirred him.  He didn't like Lynne going out without speaking to him first.  "What the hell are you playing at?"

"Just leaving a note for the milko." Lynne answered meekly.

"Hmph!" her husband grunted his satisfaction with her reply.



"Sam, what's going on?  What have you done to your arm?"  The professor's questions bothered him.

"I don't know.  I was drunk."

"Drunk?  What's happened to you, man?"

Teuser resisted the temptation to answer with a retort along the lines of "People like you." and instead tried a rather pathetic "I've been having a hard time lately."

"Much of that seems to be of your own making," Lindstrom preached. "I mean, this formula nonsense, it -"

"- It's not nonsense.  It'll work.  I'm sure of it.  I just need to test it."

"Teuser!  You can't do that.  That's why I was coming to see you.  You mustn't test that drug.  We don't know anything about it yet."

"You threw me out of my lab!" Sam exclaimed.  "What do you care?"

"I do care, Sam.  That's why I was outside your flat.  You mustn't test that formula."

"Oh, I intend to test it as soon as possible."

"You can't, man!  Look, why don't you let me look at your notes - strictly unofficially.  But you cannot just test it on a human subject."

"I don't want a blow job from a fucking rabbit." Teuser responded, beginning to lose his temper.

The young man's crude language reminded Lindstrom of the remarkable girl he'd encountered and what she had done for him.  And the peculiar way he was now feeling.  A connection fired in his brain.

"Sam," the old man began, slowly, "are you sure you haven't already tested the formula?"

"'Course I'm sure." Teuser answered, sounding annoyed.

"Is it possible you let someone take it when you were drunk?  Say a dark-haired young woman in her late twenties with a bruised face?  Somewhere near where you live?"

"What are you talking a...." Teuser's brow knitted in concentration for a moment as if he was rooting through a pile of papers in the disorganised filing system of his mind.  For a brief second, a look of realisation and then horror flickered across his features.  Then, it disappeared.  "Why are you asking?" he inquired, trying to sound innocent.

"Er.. no reason.  You're quite sure no-one has tried your formula?"

"Yes.  Yes.  Quite sure.  For certain." the younger man blurted as the car turned and drove through the ornate gates of a large hospital.



Sitting on the park bench, Ivana stared absent-mindedly at the pedestrians passing on the street, munching her chocolate.  She couldn't understand why, but she felt terrific.  Confused, but terrifically healthy.  She was thinking about the old man she had fellated, wondering about the strange compulsion that had driven her to carry out the act.  As she thought about what she had done, a series of sensations washed through her mind.  She could almost taste the old man again.  There was no doubt about it, whatever had driven her to it, she had enjoyed it.  It had just been so.. pleasurable.  And now, afterwards, she felt.. great.

The mysterious healing of her wounds concerned her, but somehow it seemed to fit in with the inexplicable improvement in her constitution.  Were the two things related in some way?  Did it all have something to do with her unexplained fainting fit?  Had she accidentally drawn something from the old man into herself - some energy or a trace of some wonder drug he was taking?  Or did feeling good just come from the natural substances in his fluid?  Was it the old man himself or would the effect have been the same with any man?  Would it wear off?

This last question sparked another: would the "healthy" feeling increase if she ingested another man's cum?  Suddenly, she found her thoughts racing as she imagined herself performing the oral act.  She'd not been particularly into that type of thing in the past, but now, for some reason, the whole idea excited her tremendously.  The very notion turned her on.  She realised, quite unexpectedly, that she was horny.  Incredibly horny.  Needy, in fact.   She wanted a man so she could suck his organ.  She wanted him now.



The waiting room of the casualty department was full of unfortunates.  They had to wait five minutes just to see the nurse to register.  The nurse had made it quite clear that there was a strict order of priorities and that Teuser would have to wait until those with head injuries or other serious problems had been seen.  She said it might be several hours.   With that in mind, the Professor and his ex-pupil had gone to hunt out a vacant seat to wait until Teuser was called to a doctor.  They found no two seats together anywhere.  Clearly, Sam was in no fit state to stand, so Lindstrom let him have the chair.

But the Professor didn't feel so good either.  He was weak and tired.  He knew there was no way he'd be able to remain on his feet for more than ten minutes, let alone two hours.  He was about to go and sit in his car, when an idea occurred to him.  He had not become a Professor for nothing.

"Sam," the old man began, "you'll be alright here for a while.  I need to lie down for thirty minutes or so.  I'll be here to take you home when you're done.  It's just that, well, my flat is an hour's drive from here so there's not much point trying to go back and, er, I'm a bit too old for sleeping in the car...  Um, I don't suppose you could let me use your place - y'know just to lie down for a little while whilst you're waiting here.  I won't disturb anything, of course, it's just that, well, I could really do with the rest and..."

Teuser was on the point of interrupting and refusing the request outright, when he stopped himself.  The Professor had helped him out and his offer of a lift home would be more than useful...  In addition, his head was pounding and the old man's persistent talking was making it worse.  This way, he could at least have peace while he waited.

"Sure," Teuser replied, fishing a small bunch of keys from his pocket and handing them over.  "If you're not back by the time I'm done, I'll wait for you where we came in."

"Oh, I'll be here, Sam.  Don't worry."

"See you then, then."



Ivana looked up, drawn from her fantasies by the sudden sound of coughing.  She was no longer alone in the tiny park.  A young man was walking a fierce-looking dog, the animal straining at his leash, almost dragging his handler off his feet.  Ignoring the snarling beast, she studied the human part of the duo.  He couldn't have been much older than twenty-five.  Tall - maybe a bit over six-foot and incredibly skinny.  His head was shaved, his denim jacket faded and frayed and his tatty T-shirt bore the name of a long-since defunct rock-group.  His khaki trousers were worn-out and baggy.  A thin, hand-rolled cigarette hung from his top lip.

He wasn't her type.  He wasn't even a close approximation of her type, but she found that she was staring intently at his crotch, despite herself.  She was wondering what lay beneath his trousers, imagining what it would be like to touch, to hold, to taste...  To her surprise, a new, overpowering sense of desire rose from within her to fill her mind.  Somehow, she knew it would be pointless to resist it.  She had no choice.  She had to have this guy.

Making sure he wasn't watching her, she unbuttoned her coat and swiftly took it off, folding it over the arm of the bench.  The evening must have been cool - summer was still a way away.  Everyone passing on the street was wearing at least two layers, yet she didn't notice the chill in the air without her coat.   She pulled her top down tight, arching her back to make her large breasts as prominent as possible.  Then, she ran her fingers through her long hair, leaving one strand hanging over her face.

The young man was still busy restraining his dog as she walked over to him, swaying her curvaceous hips with every stride.  Her efforts did not go to waste as the guy's eyes seemed to bulge from his skinny face as he stared unashamedly at her.  She kept approaching him, stopping a little bit closer to him than the usual distance between two strangers.  She leant a little forward, pushing out her chest towards him and spoke, in her most seductive voice.

"That's a nice dog."

"He..he's a boxer" the young man replied, looking and sounding as nervous as a teenager.

She was definitely having an effect on him.  That heightened her own inexplicable arousal.  She decided not to waste any time.  Looking down at his groin and making sure he realised that she was doing it, she coquettishly inquired, "Do you have a nice juicy bone for him?"

The thin man swallowed hard.  Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead.  "Er.. I..."

She smiled.  "Just a minute," she said, suddenly frowning in concentration.  "I think you've got something in your eye."

"Um.. I don't think so.. I.. er.. don't feel a-"

"- Let me have a look." she interrupted, her voice dripping femininity.  Before he could react, she was moving closer towards him.  She brought up her hand, gently stroking his face as she pretended to study his eye.  Leaning in closer still, she let her breasts touch his chest, enjoying the involuntary shudder that ran through his body as she adjusted herself, incidentally brushing her rapidly swelling nipples against him.  Her face was barely an inch from his now.  She did not move away as she breathed softly "No, I don't think there is anything.  I must have been wrong."

Ivana remained exactly where she stood, making a mockery of his personal space as she let her hand slide down from his face and find its way to his groin, lightly stroking his thigh through his trousers.  She was not disappointed by what she found there.



It took Lindstrom twenty minutes to drive to Teuser's flat.  He sat in the car for a few moments, trying to gather strength before climbing out.  He couldn't understand why he felt so weary.  Was his age suddenly catching up with him?  He'd always been reasonably fit.  It just didn't make sense.  He resolved to book himself some time off - perhaps he just needed a good rest.  But not now.  Now he had work to do.  Fishing Teuser's unfamiliar keys from his pocket, he climbed out of his car and approached the front door.

Teuser's flat was up three flights of stairs.  The professor had to stop half-way and sit down on the steps to catch his breath.  His legs ached.  His physical condition was beginning to become a subject of concern.  He would definitely be taking that time off.  And making an appointment with his doctor.  As soon as he got home.

Finally, Lindstrom got into the flat.  The temptation to just lie down on the messy bed was enormous, but he was determined to carry out the task he'd set himself.   The place was in a terrible state.  The professor was disgusted to find a vomit-stained shirt hanging off the back of a chair, shaking his head at the way such a promising young man had let himself go.  He put Teuser's stupidity out of his mind and got to work.  Puffing heavily, he began searching for his former pupil's papers.



Smiling sexily over her shoulder, Ivana led the confused, nervous young man by the hand towards a large bush.  It wasn't the Ritz, but it did offer the nearest thing to privacy available in the tiny public park.  There was just enough room inside for two people to lay down.  She flopped onto the soft ground and patted the soil by her side, inviting the skinny youth to join her, absent-mindedly tracing the outline of her generous breasts with two fingers of her other hand, playing her role of temptress with expertise.

He joined her, breathing fast and moving awkwardly.  He was clearly a little unsure of himself.  She propped herself up on one elbow to lean over him, letting her breast touch him and her breath flow over his face as she smiled reassuringly, caressing his face.  Slowly, she leant in to kiss him softly on the lips, a carefully measured embrace, neither too short nor to long, but just enough to relax his nerves and stimulate his desires.  He made no attempt to break away, letting her choose the moment to end the kiss.  She gave him another smile.  It was all going so well.



Teuser sipped from a plastic cup of steaming, foul-tasting vending machine coffee.  He'd been there half-an-hour already and there was absolutely no sign of anyone being ready to see him yet.  The other casualties were called through at a depressingly slow rate, further diminishing his hopes for speedy attention.  His damaged arm throbbed and his head still ached.  An unshaved, middle-aged man sat next to him in filthy, torn clothes, clutching his left knee and periodically groaning and swearing under his breath.  Something smelt unwashed.  Sam didn't know if it was the man or his clothes or both.  He felt utterly miserable.

Without warning, the dirty stranger turned to him.  Teuser saw he was missing most of his teeth.  Those that remained were crooked and discoloured.  His breath stank of alcohol.  "Busted my fucking knee," he announced.  "What're you in for?"

"My arm." Sam replied, curtly.

"Knee's worse than an arm.  Can't even fucking walk."

Teuser made no attempt to contest the statement.  The stranger seemed disappointed.  He was obviously hoping to start a conversation.  "Hurt, does it, your arm?" he tried again.

"Like buggery." Teuser answered.

"Yeah.  My knee too.  Got something for it, though."  His dirt-encrusted hand delved into the partly-torn pocket of his jacket and re-emerged clutching a quarter-empty half-bottle of supermarket own-label vodka.  "Best fucking pain killer in the world." he declared, twisting off the metal cap and bringing the bottle up to his scabby lips.  Once he had taken a few large-looking swallows he held the bottle out to Teuser.

"What the fuck." Sam said, taking the offering and wiping the neck on his sleeve.  He drank deeply and passed the bottle back.  "Thanks."

As if by magic, Teuser's headache began to lift.  The pain in his arm remained, but it seemed a little more tolerable now.

"Looks like we're stuck here for a while." the stranger said.


"Good job I've got plenty of booze, eh?"

"Yeah."   To his private self-disgust, Sam knew he was genuinely grateful.




Lindstrom sat on the edge of Teuser's bed, breathless.  The effort of constantly bending down and straightening up again had left him exhausted, but at least it had been worthwhile.  He'd found what he was looking for.  Twisting, he began laying page after page of handwritten notes out on the bed, scanning each one, his experienced eyes trying to locate the key information amongst the rest of the scribbled text and diagrams.  He started making two separate piles until he had sorted through the entire stack of paper.  Then, he picked up the smaller pile and began to read each page more carefully, separating these sheets into a further two groups.

Eventually, the professor put three pages down on one side and gathered the rest together.  Then, rubbing his eyes which had tired under the strain, he settled down with the three pages he had identified as representing the core of his former pupil's strange work.  He found himself falling asleep, but shook his head to fight the creeping feeling, focusing on the paper in his hand, despite his heavy eyelids.  He was half-way through the second page when he suddenly dropped the notes.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed.  He picked the paper up again and re-read it.  There was no doubt about it.  Now, he knew he had to stop Teuser.  He couldn't believe what the young man had done, supposedly in the name of science.  To use experimental theories and untested, unlicensed substances was irresponsible to say the least.  But to use - as a major ingredient - a mysterious compound that had been secretly developed by the military and abandoned by them long before the completion of their project...

Lindstrom drew a pen from his pocket and found a blank piece of paper.  He began to draw a few sketchy diagrams, adding long lists of calculations alongside.  His jaw fell open.  He checked his hasty writings again.  Then he checked them for a second time.  His face fell and his head shook as he said out loud "No... No... It can't be possible...."



The dog sat patiently by the vacant bench, waiting for its master, casting longing glances towards the bush were he had disappeared.  Inside the foliage, she was lying on top of him now, their legs intertwined, their lips locked in a long, passionate kiss.  Her top and his jacket and T-shirt lay beside them, long since discarded.  Still wearing her bra, she pressed her big breasts against his bare chest, rubbing herself over him.  His eyes betrayed his near-orgasmic state.  He'd clearly not had many experiences with women before.

Ivana gently lifted her mouth from his, sliding her hands between their bellies, not breaking the contact between their chests as she expertly unfastened his jeans.  She pulled down his zip slowly and deliberately before reaching in and gently freeing his engorged penis from his underwear.  Then she delicately ran her fingers up and down its length a few times, all the while staring into his eyes and smiling.  He looked at her in nervous anticipation, making no attempt to stop her as she raised herself up and softly kissed his neck.

He moaned appreciatively as she moved a little down his body, brushing her lips against his nipples, touching his chest hairs with her tongue, letting her breasts rub against his abdomen.  Slowly, steadily she worked her way down over his belly, nuzzling his stomach.  His fingers plunged into her long, silky hair, stroking her head.  She looked up and gave him her sexiest grin before bending down once more and touching the end of his exposed erection with the very tip of her tongue.  He shook in delight for a moment.

She couldn't wait anymore.  The anticipation was overwhelming.  She opened her mouth wide and let him slide in between her full lips, taking as much of him in as she could.  The she closed her mouth tightly around him, letting her teeth press gently into his sensitive flesh.  He let out a groan of pleasure.   She kept her hold on him as she lashed his shaft with her tongue, eliciting more moans from him.  Then she relaxed the grip of her teeth and began to lower and raise her head, letting her lips ride up and down him.

From time to time, she flicked the sensitive tip of his member with her tongue or let her teeth scrape lightly along its side, enjoying the reaction she provoked.  Soon enough, she felt the flesh in her mouth begin to spasm.  She pulled in her cheeks, sucking hard as he began to ejaculate, trying to ensure that every last drop went down her throat.  He came in big, thick jets, his body thrashing about beneath her as he did, but she bit down on him to prevent him slipping out of her mouth before she had extracted all his fluid from him.

It was delicious!  She couldn't get enough of it, sucking and licking, trying to squeeze more and more of it out of him, swallowing again and again.  She hoped it would last forever, but it was over all too soon.  She heard him yelp and, finally letting him slide out of her mouth looked up at him in surprise, even as she swallowed the last few drops of him.

"Ow!  Jesus!  Stop!  Please! You're hurting me!"  There were tears in his eyes.  He began to frantically move his feet beneath her, trying to scoot away from her.  Confused, she lifted herself off him to let him move.  His hands went immediately to his bright purple penis, gingerly cupping it.  Ivana had never seen one that colour before.  And she had seen many.  She was pretty sure it hadn't been that colour before.  Had she done that?

"Sorry" she said, still licking her lips and not sounding particularly sincere.  He winced as he pushed his rapidly deflating organ back inside his trousers and then grabbed his T-shirt and jacket and stood up to put them on.

Ivana looked at him with disappointment.  "Going so soon?" she asked "Can't we do it again?"

"Er.. no." he said, his face flinching with every tiny movement he made.  "Got to walk the dog."

"Shame." she responded, truthfully.  "But thanks anyway.  That was lovely."

"Uh.. sure." he said and then, as he pushed his way out of the bush where they'd been hiding, "Ouch!  Shit!  Fuck!"

Ivana was surprised.  She thought he'd have been a bit more grateful, like the old man had been earlier.  Maybe she had actually hurt him.  His cock had looked quite unusually purple.  But she hadn't bitten it hard or sucked particularly strongly.  Maybe he was just embarrassed.  She pulled on her top and worked her way out of the bush.  Her coat was still hanging from the bench but there was no sign of her temporary lover or his dog for that matter.



"Go on, have another."

"Nah, I don't think I should I - "

"- Have another!"

"OK, OK." Teuser took another big swig from the vodka bottle.  So much for his promise not to drink any more.  Here he was, in a hospital waiting room, waiting for a doctor to tend to his injured arm, completely drunk once again.  The nurse behind the desk at the front of the room called out another name and Teuser's unwelcome benefactor clumsily rose to stand on one leg.

He began to hop his way through the seated crowd towards the nurse, looking over his shoulder to shout "Cheers, pal!  Good luck with your arm.  Hope the fuckers don't cut it off.  Ha! Ha!"  He temporarily disappeared from view as he lost his footing and fell with a crash to the floor.  The nursed rushed over to help him to his feet.

He got his arm around her shoulder when she said, loudly and reproachfully, "Look at the state of you!  No wonder you've hurt yourself."  Still in his seat, Teuser felt deeply ashamed.  Was he, a scientist, becoming like this guy?  He glanced at the chair vacated by his erstwhile companion.  He'd left the bottle behind.  There were still a few swallows left inside.  Full of self-loathing, Teuser snatched it up and drained it.  Tomorrow, he'd stop drinking.



Puffing and painting, Professor Lindstrom made his way downstairs and out of Teuser's flat to his car.  He was anxious to get back to the hospital and confront the young fool as soon as possible.  But the terrible weariness that had grown throughout the day was too much.  He sat in the car for a few moments, trying to gather his strength.  What was wrong with him?  It had been getting worse ever since the incident in the car park when the beautiful girl had... had...

"Oh my God!" he said out loud.  It all fitted together.  Teuser had obviously lied to him.  He must have tested his formula at least once.  On the girl he'd met earlier.  That would explain why she had done what she had done to him.  From what he had seen in the notes, his former protégé had succeeded in creating a substance that would induce a yearning for the taste of spermatozoa.  But Lindstrom had also seen something else in the handwritten sheets of paper.  The strange, military-designed substance that Teuser had included in his formula would, according to the Professor's theories have a dangerous side-effect.  A side-effect that would account for his inexplicable weariness.

Lindstrom had gathered from the notes that the substance had been designed for tired soldiers in the field.  The idea was that it could re-energise them in mere minutes when there was no time for sleep.  But the substance itself did not contain the energy.  It was supposed to act as a conduit, transferring strength from enemy prisoners into their captors. But the project had been abandoned for unknown reasons.

Somehow, Teuser had gotten hold of the untested prototype.  His notes made it clear he had used it for its non-energy-transferring properties.  He'd harnessed another aspect of it in combination with various chemicals to generate the yearning for a specific taste.  He had completely ignored the original intention behind its creation. The Professor was almost certain that the formula, along with the effect Teuser had sought to create, would also have energy transferring effects.  What he didn't know was how those effects would be altered by the other components in the mixture.

If the girl he'd met had been given the formula, then the weariness he now felt would be explained.  His energy might well have been transferred into her.  In coarse terms, she'd literally sucked out his strength.   But would she have absorbed it into her own body?  Would that now leave her with surplus energy?  What would happen over time if she kept collecting other people's energy?  What would happen to the people she took it from?  Like him?  He had to see Teuser immediately.  He turned the key in the ignition and eased off the handbrake.



What the hell had she done?  She knew the answer.  She'd done exactly the same thing she'd done to the old man in the car park.  Now it was a young punk in a bush in a public park.  What had driven her to seduce two men , neither of whom she would normally look at twice, and give them both oral sex?  For free?!?  Ivana remembered feeling a desperate yearning to carry out the act and wondered where it had come from.  It was as if she needed sperm - as though she were a cum-junkie.  She couldn't understand it.

Neither could she understand the pleasant, warm sensation in her stomach.  It seemed to be spreading outwards through her body, wave after wave of delicious heat rippling from her belly to the very tips of her fingers and toes.  It was a little like lying in the warm sun and a little like waking up after a great night's sleep.  So invigorating.  So refreshing.  Despite her confusion over her actions, she felt physically fantastic, just as she had inexplicably felt better after her encounter with the old man earlier.  Yet to lose control of herself twice in one day... that was unnerving.  Uncertain what to do, she headed for home.



"Sam Teezer?" the nurse announced.

"Teuser!" he corrected, standing up and almost collapsing until he gripped the back of the chair in front of him for support.

"This way please."  Teuser shuffled between the mass of people waiting to be treated, making his unsteady way to the nurse.  She looked at him, frowned disapprovingly and pointed to a series of small curtained-off rooms.  "In there." she said.  Sam staggered in the direction indicated, stumbling as he got into the cubicle and almost ripping the curtain from its rail.

Inside the little room there was a hospital bed and a stool.  He choose the bed and lay down, staring at the bright ceiling light which blurred and then moved in his alcohol-fuzzed vision.  A few minutes later, a doctor entered striding purposefully, his whole manner one of efficiency.  "So," he boomed, "what's happened here?  Had a few too many and fallen down have we?  Where's the damage?"

Sam felt disgusted with himself.  He knew the doctor's somewhat patronising assessment of the situation was more or less correct, but he was too ashamed to admit it.

"Actually, it wash lasht night." he slurred.  The medic's expression let him know that he was suitably unimpressed with his response.

"Right, then, Mr...." he glanced down at his notes "..Tazer is it?"

"Teuser."  said Sam.  He was used to people getting his name wrong.  The doctor put his notes down on the vacant stool.  "What's brought you here, Mr. Teuser?"

"My arm.  It hurts like buggery and I can't move it properly."

"You say this happened last night.  How'd you do it then?"

Sam paused for a moment.  He was too embarrassed to tell the truth - that he was drunk and couldn't remember a thing.  "I, ah, fell awkwardly."

"Hmmm."  the doctor responded.  He might as well have said "I don't believe you", but Teuser let it pass.  The medic went on "We'd better have that shirt off so I can take a look."  Sam tried to remove his shirt, but one-handed and drunk, it wasn't going to happen.  The doctor helped him.  There was a sharp drawing in of breath through clenched teeth as the wounded arm was revealed.  "Some fall." the doctor opined.  "Looks more like a bad twist to me."

"I fell." Sam repeated, sternly.

"Well, whatever you did, you're going to need to go to X-ray.  I think you may well have broken a bone."

"Oh, shit." murmured the drunken scientist.



Lindstrom shook his head as he drove towards the hospital.  It was all so ridiculous.  So... unscientific.  More like the plot of a bad erotic story on some web site than real life.  A brilliant biology student going off the rails and making up formulas containing unstable ingredients.  A beautiful girl on the loose, sucking men's energy out through their sex organs like a pornographic vampire.  Ridiculous.  It had to be stopped.  The professor wondered if Teuser had any more of his formula prepared.  If he did, where was he keeping it?  What did he plan to do with it? He resolved to confront his former student the moment he arrived at the hospital. Surely someone as intelligent as Teuser would respond to reason, once he was made aware of the dangers of his discovery.

Professor Lindstrom's thoughts were interrupted by a short, sharp blast of another car's klaxon.  Suddenly, his windscreen was completely filled by the side of a large family car.  He slammed on the brakes, bringing his vehicle to a shuddering stop, only his seatbelt saving him from flying head first through the glass.   He could feel his heart pumping violently under his ribs.  Taking a few deep breaths, he muttered to himself "Easy, Stefan."  Before easing cautiously out into the traffic to continue his journey.  "Concentrate." he whispered to himself.   If only he didn't feel so tired, so... drained.



It was so strange.  Even as she wrestled with the confusion of her actions, Ivana couldn't help but notice how wonderful she felt.  Her steps seemed to be becoming lighter and lighter and her limbs more and more supple.  The warm sensation in her belly had dissipated and spread throughout her body making her feel as if she was positively glowing with health and vitality.  And the world somehow seemed to be in sharper focus now.  It was as if she was suddenly noticing things for the first time like individual leaves high up in the trees and the song of tiny birds flying overhead.  She put it down to a psychological manifestation of her general sense of well-being, convincing herself that her senses only appeared to have become keener.

She found herself approaching the street door to her building.  How had she gotten here so soon?  The walk from the park usually felt much, much longer to her.   This time, she was so fresh, she had the impression that she'd only been strolling for less than a minute.  She drew her keys from her coat, preparing herself for her customary battle with the rusting lock mechanism.  She couldn't recall how many times she'd raised the matter with the landlord, but, she acknowledged with a sigh, it had long since become clear that the bastard didn't give a shit about his tenants.  How much effort would it require to fix the lock?  Sooner or later, she thought, someone's going to get locked out.

Separating the correct key from the bunch in her hand, she pushed it into the lock.  She twisted her wrist, preparing herself for the violent yank it usually took to unlock the door.  "1..2..3.." She said to herself, "..Turn!"  She was rewarded with a surprising high-pitched snapping sound.  The key had broken in half.  "Shit!" she said out loud.  Part of the key was still in the lock, the rest of it in her hand.  She could see the edge where it had broken in two.  It looked almost as if the key had been torn rather than snapped, but she knew that was impossible.  Cursing the incompetent landlord and the unknown locksmith who'd cut her key from unsuitable materials, she flung down the useless bit of metal in her hand.

She was shocked to see the half-key break of a small chunk of paving stone when it hit the ground, the dislodged piece of concrete flying quite a few feet before coming back to earth.  She couldn't figure it out.  One instant the key had been too weak to survive the lock, the next it was tough enough to damage the pavement.  And she hadn't even thrown it all that hard...



Teuser gritted his teeth as his arm was wrapped in plaster bandages.  It turned out that he had broken it after all.   The pain was even worse now, and the vodka he'd drunk in the waiting room was wearing off, making his head thump again.   The youthful male nurse who was building up his cast was working in a cheerful manner that irritated the biologist.  He just wanted his arm dressed quickly so that he could get the hell out of there.  But the nurse was trying to start a conversation.  Why did everyone want to talk to him today?  He was in pain, for Pete's sake.

Looking up from his task with an annoying grin, the young medic tried a new tack.  "'Spose you'll be thinking twice before getting hammered next time, eh?" he suggested.

Why was everyone making a big thing about him having a couple of drinks?  What was their problem?  He racked his brains.  He needed a clever reply, something that would show his superior wit, but the best he could manage was a dismissive "Oh, piss off."  It just wasn't his day.



His eyes were closing.  This damned tiredness was driving him crazy.  Lindstrom knew he should pull over to the side of the road and rest a little.  Perhaps get out and walk, or find somewhere where he could get a coffee.  A nice, hot, sweet coffee...  But he couldn't.  He had to get to Teuser as soon as possible.  What he had discovered about the formula could not wait.  He had to stop his protégé making any more of the stuff or worse, actually administering it to anyone.  Anyone else, he corrected himself, certain now that the beautiful girl who seduced him had somehow received a dose of the dangerous mixture.  That was another reason why he couldn't delay - the girl had to be found.  Before she drained another man's energy.

But it was so hard, so hard to stay awake.  It was like having a severe 'flu and not having slept for days.  His body was exhausted.  He craved rest, longed for sleep.  But there'd be time for that later.  His eyes were closing again.  He had to fight the creeping feeling, had to keep them open.  Eyes on the road.  Not let them close.  Open.  Not closed.  So hard.  Tired.  Needed to sleep.  Sleep.  Lovely.  So lovely, so lovely...



No-one responded when she pressed the buzzers for the other flats.  Ivana couldn't believe that out of seven other tenants, not a single person was in on a weekday evening.  The lazy bastards.  Why couldn't they just come downstairs and open the door for her?  Getting frustrated, she balled up her hands into fists, intending to hammer on the door until someone finally answered.  She drew her hands up to her chin and then brought them forward into the door.  There was a tremendous crash as she hit the thick wooden panel.  She screamed in shock as the solid wood splintered beneath her fists, chunks of door flying off as her little feminine hands went right through the three inches to emerge on the other side.

She pulled her hands back sharply, her surprise increasing still further as more wood broke off where she brushed against it.   Breathing slowly to calm herself down she opened her fingers and brought them closer to her face for examination.  No bruises or cuts or splinters.  More than that - her hands were utterly flawless.  Not a single scratch or mark or wrinkle was visible anywhere on them, although she had noticed plenty last time she'd looked closely at her hands.  Cautiously, she stretched her right arm out towards the damaged door, using her thumb and forefinger to touch the edge of the hole she had accidentally made.  The wood felt dry and solid.  She pinched the splintery chunk between her fingers and watched fascinated as it crumbled to dust.

She hardly felt the wood resisting her pinch.  Surely, the door had to be rotten.  There was no other explanation for what she had done.  It wasn't possible that the door was fine and she had become vastly stronger.  Was it?  Gingerly, she reached for the still intact section of door, giving it a gentle, nervous push with the finger tips of her right hand.  Her efforts were rewarded with a crunching sound as the wood smashed and broke around the two large metal locks that had been set inside it.  With nothing now to hold it shut, the remains of the heavy door swung open.  She gasped in astonishment.  This was incredible.

Experimentally, Ivana grabbed a portion of exposed lock mechanism and pulled.  It came effortlessly free of the battered door.   She held the chunk of metal in her palm, lifting it up and down as if trying to estimate its weight.  It felt unrealistically light for a lump of steel and brass.  She tried squeezing it between her fingers and found, to her amazement, that it yielded slightly in a few places.  Feeling more like solid clay than metal, the mechanism groaned under the pressure she exerted with her dainty hand.  She dropped it in shock.  What the hell was happening to her?



Jack made his way down the street, embarrassed by the John Wayne-style walk he had to use.  It was the only way to avoid the pain every time his bruised prick touched his thigh.  In addition, his balls ached terribly.  Although the encounter in the park had been his first ever blow-job, he was sure that he wasn't supposed to feel like this afterwards.  In agony and physically drained, as if he'd just run a marathon on a hot day.   He desperately wanted to sleep.  Finally, he made it back to the squat he shared and climbed in through a broken window.  Bastard, his amusingly-named dog jumped in obediently after him.   Jack immediately lay down on a pile of old blankets that had been spread out on the paint-splattered bare floorboards.  Within a minute, he was snoring loudly.



"Make us a cuppa, love!"

Gary's shouted half-request, half-command filtered through the kitchen wall.  Lynne looked up from the magazine she was reading and walked over to the door that connected to the sitting room.  Opening it a little, she spoke at a normal volume through the crack, "Just coming, Gary."  It wouldn't do for her just to yell without moving from her seat as he had done.  He wouldn't like that.  It might make him angry.  She set about preparing her husband's drink.

She was about halfway through when Gary's voice again reverberated in the house "Make it a milky one, alright?".  Again, she made her way to the door that separated them, opened it slightly and answered "OK, Gary.".  She went over to the fridge.  That was it for the milk until tomorrow's dawn brought the doorstep delivery.  Without saying a word, she carried the completed mug of tea into the sitting room and set it down on a small side-table next to the comfortable armchair in which her husband was sprawled.   Gary took a sip, replaced the mug and turned his attention back to the television.  He didn't bother to thank her.



Sam Teuser stood outside the hospital near the Accidents and Emergencies entrance, looking for the Professor's car.  His heavily-plastered arm sat in a sling across his belly.  His bloodshot eyes scanned the parked vehicles in front of him, searching without success.  With his latest intake of alcohol wearing off, his head was beginning to pound once more.  The pain in his arm just got worse and worse inside the cast.  Where the hell was Lindstrom?  Teuser glanced at his watch.  The old man was probably still asleep.  He'd have to get a taxi back to his flat just to wake up the old bugger.  Looking at the time-piece on his wrist for a second time, he made a silent resolution.  Ten more minutes, and he would find a cab.



Stefan Lindstrom was sat with his head resting on the top of the steering wheel of his car.  Had he been able to see through the windshield, he would have noticed that the view was completely obscured by the concertina'd remains of the front section of his vehicle and the crumpled back of the lorry he'd driven into.  Or rather that his car had driven into while he had been asleep at the wheel.  A thick trickle of blood flowed from a deep gash in his forehead, running down one side of the steering wheel and dripping onto the mat between his feet.  He'd never even felt the impact.  His last thoughts had been generated by his sub-conscience as it replayed images of the girl he had met earlier in the day.  In other words, he had met his end midway through an erotic dream.


Conceptfan, May 2002.