RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
by Captain Dunsel
“Did you give her a sedative?” Mr. Langford asked Dr. McKenna. Debbie had positioned herself beside the cutie pie doctor. Right beside him. She wanted him to be very aware of her body lightly brushing against his. That always worked.
“No, she passed out on her own,” Dr. McKenna said. He stiffened slightly as Debbie let her hand briefly touch his. She grinned. Men were so easy to manipulate.
“Well… I’m sure Keith Morrow and his boys will want to launch an investigation and find out how this happened,” Mr. Langford said, pushing a strand of red hair away from Bridget O’Brien’s smiling, slumbering face. She was lying on a gurney, a paramedic poised to wheel her away, once it had been decided where, exactly, to wheel her. The paramedic was staring at her tits. He obviously wanted to wheel her back to his own bungalow where he could eagerly perform all manner of paramedical procedures. Debbie stifled a giggle. Who could blame him?
“Yeah. I’m sure they will.”
“She’s in no danger, you say?” Mr. Langford asked again.
“No,” the doctor said confidently. “The only anomalous element is the marijuana, otherwise she’s in the same condition as any of our girls who have had one too many cocktails.”
Been there, done that, Debbie thought with a giggle. Mr. Langford looked over at her and smiled at her giggles.
“Been there, done that, eh Debbie?” he asked. She giggled again and bit her lower lip.
“I can detox her if you like,” Dr. McKenna offered. “The cocktails and most of the THC, at least. I’d rather not try and neutralize the booster without further tests.”
“I don’t think neutralizing her booster would be advisable in any event. She is a prospie, after all,” Mr. Langford pointed out. “We don’t want her waking up cold turkey and half naked on a gurney, for her sake as well as ours.”
“Well… medically she’s fine,” Dr. McKenna said. Debbie turned, supposedly to listen to him, but really so she could press her left tit against his right arm, letting the nipple dig in a little. “So, it’s… ahem… it’s, uhh… it’s your call, Mr. Langford.”
Debbie smiled, enjoying herself. She was pretty sure she had time to give Dr. McKenna a blow job and still make it upstairs to Mr. Ortega’s office by twelve-thirty. She could get plastered in the elevator on the way up.
“Holy shit, whasss goinn on?”
They all turned to see who had spoken… all except Ms. O’Brien, of course, because she was passed out on the gurney.
“Oh, Erika, great!” Debbie exclaimed. It was her fresh thermos from dear Mr. Shepherd, speaking of getting plastered. She abandoned Dr. McKenna and walked over to the other girl. “I assume that’s for me.”
“Yup,” Erika said, stumbling sideways, catching herself on the desk. Debbie took the thermos from her before she dropped it. “Special delinnery. Liv… very.”
“Jesus, Erika… why did Mr. S send you? You’re too wasted to be down here.”
“He duzzin know I’m dzzrunk,” Erika whispered. “Iss s’pposed t’be my sober day, but that blonde kid from the mailroom spiked my coffee cuz he hazza crush on me. Ann I sorta encouraged him.”
“Ohhh,” Debbie said, nodding. In theory that sort of unauthorized mischief was prohibited, but it happened all the time… and the mischief makers seldom got into trouble. “Well thanks, hon.”
Debbie admired her friend’s spandex minidress. “That’s cute, is it yours?” Erika was almost as young as Debbie, an adorable little pixie of a thing with her lingering baby fat in all the right places. Debbie had long thought that if she ever decided to go with short hair, she’d get a Peter Pan cut just like Erika’s. Tomboy sexy.
“Uh-huh,” Erika replied, tugging the hem of her skirt down so that it nearly covered her ass. “Piranha’s, thirty-six bucks.” She nodded at the gurney. “Whass goinn on?”
“Oh… well…” Debbie hesitated, not sure how much she was allowed to say. Mr. Langford and Dr. McKenna were still staring at Erika… probably because she looked damned sexy.
“Erika,” Mr. Langford said, sternly but gently, “you know better than to wander around intoxicated on this floor, especially in the reception area.”
“Sorry Mr. Lannford, Frankie from the mailroom spiked my coffee.”
“Fine, whatever, just… head back on upstairs now,” Mr. Langford scolded, though he was smiling. Dr. McKenna was ogling Erika, a wolfish little grin on his face, which annoyed Debbie. Sure, Erika was cute as a button, and her tits were probably twice the size of Debbie’s, and she was drunk, but that was no reason to ignore-
She was drunk. That was why cutie pie McKenna wanted to fuck her. No male can resist an inebriated female, that was gospel. It triggered some sort of primal, instinctive lust in them. Erika’s bigger tits helped, of course, but mostly it was the knowledge that she was all sloppy stupid and uninhibited and wouldn’t care if he walked over there and ravished her… hell, the knowledge that she would welcome it. Like every other man Debbie had ever met, Dr. McKenna was turned on by a drunk chick… especially a drunk, horny chick. Okay, fine, she thought with a grin. Two can play at that game. She unscrewed the top of the thermos.
“Right, sorry, sorry,” Erika was saying. “I’m outa here. See ya, Deb.”
“Bye, Erika. Thanks again.”
Erika turned and left the reception area. Mr. Langford and Dr. McKenna watched her chubby, spandex-sheathed ass wriggle away, then turned back to the gurney.
Debbie put the open thermos to her lips and drank. She had never chugged down an entire thermos in one go… but there was a first time for everything, and she had no time to waste. Dr. McKenna would be leaving soon, and if she wanted to seduce him… and she did, he was just so adorable with that accent… she had to get drunk fast. She’d figure out what to do about Mr. Ortega later. Heck, he probably had some tequila in his office.
“You’ll take care of calling Security?” Dr. McKenna was asking Mr. Langford. Debbie stared at their butts as she chugged on, swallowing gulp after gulp. She liked butts.
“Sure, I’ll handle it, Tim.”
“Nnnyuhhh,” Debbie gasped softly as she swallowed the last of… whatever it was Mr. Shepherd had sent her… and put the empty thermos on the desk. It fell over.
“Okay, so… what should we do with her?”
Mr. Shepherd had warned Debbie that this stuff would knock her on her ass almost immediately, but she wondered how long it would actually… take… to…
Well… something was happening. The world seemed to be slowing up. Or speeding down. Or… something. Debbie smiled, liking this feeling, and looked over at the men. They were not entirely in focus. And there were six of them. Five. Seven.
“Tell you what,” Mr. Langford was saying, his voice sounding a little weird, like he was speaking into a thermos or something. “Wheel her down to wardrobe and have them dress her in standard office attire... tire. Then bring her up… up…up… to my office. Doc, can you rig me a shot to bring her back down, lose everything but the booster… ster… ster?”
“Sure… sure… sure… sure,” Dr. Cutie Pie said. Debbie was having trouble following their conversation, so she didn’t try. She just stood there, leaning on the desk, feeling herself getting drunker and drunker by the moment, wishing everyone else would leave so she could fuck that cute Dr. Whatshisname with the nice package.
The men talked a little more, but at that point it was all garbled nonsense to Debbie. The reception area was spinning in slow, double-exposed circles. She focused on McCutie’s bulge, grinning as she thought about sliding her lips over his cock. Debbie laughed. Cutie Pie glanced in her direction, his face puzzled. Poor guy. He had no idea that she had set her sights on him and he was about to get the best fucking blowjob of his life… assuming she could pick out which of the overlapping six cocks was his actual cock.
Then at last everyone else was leaving, the paramedic rolling the gurney away, still drooling over Ms. O’Brien’s tits, and who could blame him, followed by Mr. Langford, who had a nice body, Debbie had always said that. If he wanted to stay she would fuck him too, gladly. All six of him. Six of him and six of Dr. Cutie and six of the paramedic… that would be… what… eighteen guys fucking her at once. Cool. A new record.
Debbie grinned wickedly. Dr. Cutie McKenna Pie was walking over to her. All six of him. Four of him. Eight of him. Cool.
“Are you you you okay kay kay, Debbie ee ee ee ee?” they all asked her with that adorable echoey twang. Dr. Cowboy. Debbie giggled.
“Nnnnnnope,” she replied. Debbie clumsily ripped off her bikini top and tossed it away, giggling when all those cutie pie eyes popped open wide. No man could resist her little teenybopper titties. Size was not everything, so fuck you Bridget O’Brien. She glanced down at the doctor’s bulge. At least, size was not everything when it came to titties. She giggled. And giggled. And giggled. She couldn’t stop giggling, but that was okay because she didn’t want to.
“Debbie, are you sure sure sure sure sure
The last conscious sensation Debbie has was her body falling into Dr. Cutie, her grinning face smooshed against his chest.