Date: Thu, 14 Feb 2013 16:07:10 -0500
From: John Marshall <crackerjacker18@hotmail.com>
Subject: EcstasyInc Chapter 34

In trying to avoid the most common plot scenarios featured on Nifty, this
story continues the saga which began with "Ecstasy Island,"continued with
"The Working Boys," followed by "Ecstasy Renewed." "EcstasyInc," like the
previous segment, is unorthodox but quite seductive, as are the figures
depicted. Like "Ecstasy Island" and "The Working Boys," and "Ecstasy
Renewed," this one is also written in third person and proceeds in
something close to real time with extensive dialogue to carry the story
along and intense character development. Most of the characters from the
earlier stories have returned, but there are also quite a number of new
characters which will occupy the main spotlight in this segment.

Once more, this story is extremely orgasmic with all ejaculating dialogue
written in UPPER CASE. If you do not wish to be exposed to such material as
described, leave now.  If you are too young for this sort of thing, leave
now.  If reading this causes you to break the law where you live, leave
now.

Otherwise, take the time now to get naked and get your cock hard, start
strokin' it. Jack yourself off as you read and see if you can time your own
blasts of naked sexual pleasure with those of the people in the book. This
one averages about two to three orgasms per chapter. For that reason, I
don't recommend reading more than one chapter at a time.  Any more than
that might be hazardous to your sexual health...especially your hard,
throbbing cock.

Note: The inclusion of any actual individuals in this story is in no way
meant to suggest actual occurrences or their sexual orientation. All drugs
mentioned are fictitious.

If you like what you read, let me know at crackerjacker18@hotmail.com.


ECSTASYINC

CHAPTER 34


Dr. Orlando Marcos was late getting back to his office having made his
morning rounds. It was almost eleven. "I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen, I got
held up with a Muscular Dystrophy patient." He closed the door as Derek and
Doug, dressed in their brand new Maimi attire, both stood, having waited
almost a half-hour.

"Dr. Marcos, after we talked on the phone, we took your advice and brought
with us an attorney," Derek told him. "This is Marcos Gonzales. I hope the
names don't get mixed up," he smiled as the doctor and lawyer shook hands.

"Just Mark is fine, only my mother still calls me Marcos," the
forty-something attorney greeted the doctor. "Derek here tells me we're
about to go toe to toe with Cox International," Mark said as they all sat
down opposite the doctor's desk.

"Mark is kind of an old hand at this, he represented a friend of mine
several years ago against Cox," Derek explained. Darin Romeo had
recommended him to Doug and Derek.

"I see...well, for what it's worth, the legal end of this is somewhat
outside my baliwick, but I thought it would save time if we were all
starting out on the same page here as we go over the tests on Buddy we've
been conducting the past four days." Dr. Marcos began. "I must say, your
son is quite the...what's the word I want here...charismatic young man,
I've kind of gotten to know and love him the last few days. Stella, my
assistant is not quite so fond of him, however.

"Oh?" Doug reacted in surprise. "What'd he do NOW?"

Derek laughed, "I thought EVERYONE fell in love with Buddy."

"When we're done here, I'll give you HER take on the boy," Dr. Marcos
laughed. "Suffice to say neither of us noticed in the Cox report
his...frequent...uhhh...specimen donations?"

"Ohhhh, no," Derek laughed, already visualizing the scene.

"Okay...now...we went back over all the tests Cox did with our own, and a
few more just for good measure. For the most part, sad to say, we simply
confirmed what Cox found," the Dr. intoned professionally.

Doug slumped noticeably in his chair.

"For the most part?" Derek, on the other hand, perked up.

"If we want too play 'good news, bad news'," Dr. Marcos went on, "the bad
news, is that Buddy is now and will always be sterile. The T-40 really
creamed him in that regard. That's why I suggested a lawyer, right there
you've got a...I wouldn't want to put a price on it, but...a lawsuit in the
million-dollar range."

"At least," Mark Gonzales confirmed.

"I assume Derek filled you in on the so-called 'tests' Cox has been
conducting?" Dr. Marcos paused in his report.

"For the most part, though I'm still a little fuzzy on precisely what this
'T-40' is." Mark acknowledged.

"Well, quite frankly, so are we," Dr. Marcos went on. "We know it's a
testosterone derivative but that's like saying cream is a derivative of
milk. Actually though, that's not a bad analogy. From what we can tell in
analyzing Buddy's...fluids...it would appear that T-40 is a highly
concentrated form of testosterone...industrial strength, you might say,
used in the manufacturing process for a number of Cox's sexual stimulant
products--Duralon for instance. Buddy appears to have gotten up to TEN
TIMES the recommended dosage for a testosterone deficient adult male. Of
course, T-40 would never be used for theraputic purposes. Exposing a
prepubescent boy of eleven to ANY amount of testosterone would be a clear
case of malpractice. But T-40...even applied topically...a young boy of
eleven...that borders on the...criminal."

"Way OVER the border I'd say," Mark Gonzales, gave his legal opinion. "What
about the other boys in the experiment?"

"Darin told me on the phone last night they forced the shutdown of the
project." Derek reported. "They called it Project Pooh Bear Tea. Get it,
pu-ber-ty?"

"Did you say...FORCED the shutdown," Dr. Marcos remarked in
surprise. "After all this...all this data on Buddy they were still going to
go ahead?"

"Listen, doc, ya gotta know Cox..." the lawyer explained. "Actually, I'm a
little surprised they managed to do so. Cox Pharm doesn't usually take
something like this lying down."

The doctor simply shook his head in dismay. "Okay...the good news. We found
no indication of malignancy nor much of a liklihood of testicular
cancer. The T-40 seems to have not only made Buddy sterile but killed off
any nascent cancer cells as well.  Who knows? If you don't mind the
side-effects, Cox may have stumbled upon a cancer cure."

"WOW...that's great...great news doc," Doug suddenly brightened.

"You own stock in Cox Pharm, I take it," the doctor joked.

"Hmph...yeah sure," Doug sneered, his joy having nothing to do with his Cox
International stock options.

"Well...don't get too excited," the doctor continued. "While we can
probably rule out testicular cancer, there's every liklihood Buddy will
develop PROSTATE cancer..."

"WHAT?" Doug suddenly cried.

"Let me finish," the doctor raised his palm to calm the frightened
father. "Let me repeat, there's every liklihood Buddy will develop prostate
cancer...sometime during his lifetime."

"Meaning?" Derek asked soberly.

"Well, usually sometime after fifty for most men," the doctor went on
hopefully. "However...Bobby is not most...well... I should say he will NOT
be what we'd call typical." He pulled out some MRI stills from a
folder. "Quite frankly, Buddy's entire reproductive system...is an unholy
MESS. You see, the prostate and the testicles, obviously, are two very
different glands. The T-40 simply burned out his testicles--chemical
castration--if you want to be blunt. However, the drug served to STIMULATED
the prostate...as evidenced by his excessive watery discharge. Though quite
the inconvenience...one which will probably continue at it's current
reduced rate...indefinitely. However, this fluid discharge may actually
have SAVED his life. It's already cleared something on the order of 60% of
the T-40 from his body. The next few years will probably see his T-40
numbers continue to recede, though nothing like what we've seen since
Dr. Warren stripped off the patch. Still, the drug has also greatly
weakened his prostate, making it now especially prone to cancer. Of course,
the problem is that fortunately, something like this...this extreme
exposure to a highly concentrated form of testosterone...has never happened
before, at least not in a boy so young. So, we have virtually no WAY of
knowing it's cancer-causing effects, except to guess their presence."

"Ouch," Mark grimaced.

"Problem?" Derek asked.

"Ohhh...no...for Buddy...that's great," Mark forced a smile.  "For ME...not
so much."

"Judges don't like uncertainties, right?' Doug guessed.

"Look, I want to see the bastards at Cox Pharm FRY for this," Dr. Marcos
declared almost viciously. "Hell, I wouldn't mind seeiing the whole fuckin'
COMPANY bite the dust. Their Duralon shit is fuckin' DANGEROUS. Worse, I
hear they're working on a JUVENILE dosage! I'm very willing...no EAGER...to
testify, make a deposition, whatever. I'm not gonna lie about the cancer
risks, but that wouldn't keep me from being...shall we say...overly
pessimistic, if you get my drift."

"Well, first of all, I doubt you'll have to do any testifying," Mark
suggested. "Hell, we don't even know what COURT to go to...what
jurisdiction. Cox is going to claim everything took place in their sweet
little 'Land of Ecstasy,' which Derek tells me doesn't even HAVE a judicial
system...not that we'd want to have anything to do with it if they did. And
my guess is the Bahamians wouldn't touch this with a ten-foot limbo
pole. So that just leaves the U.S. courts, which might just decide this is
one hot potato they want nothing to do with."

"Fucccckkk... That bad, huh?" Doug sighed. Mark's opinion was having little
positive effect on his already depressed mood.

"Well, it's not all bad," Mark continued.  "I will arrange a stenographer,
I'll take a deposition from the doctor here this afternoon, if he can give
me an hour or two..."

"Three be okay?" Dr. Marcos asked.

"Fine, that'll let me get Mabel or Molly in from the office to take it all
down," Mark agreed. "I don't usually discuss strategy with anyone but
clients, but in this case..."

"P.R., right?" Derek guessed.

"I've dealt with Cox before," Mark continued. "They're vicious. Their legal
department is deep and wide with virtually unlimited resources and the
ethical restraints of Al Capone. However, their public relations, no
offense to you personally, Derek, but...their public relations suck...I
mean...REALLY suck. I don't have to tell you, Derek...or even outsiders
like Dr. Marcos, Cox International has maybe the WORST corporate image of
any company on earth, including Exxon, BP, Shell... Hell, Al Quida could
give them pointers in that department."

Derek had to laugh, nodding sadly in ironic agreement.

"Fortunately, from our point of view, they're also acutely aware of their
image problems and are spending MILIONS..."

"Billions," Derek corrected him, based upon inside knowledge.

"Whatever...in trying to improve that image," Mark continued. "This Project
Pooh Bear Tea has all the hallmarks of a public relations FIASCO..."

"Make that CATASTROPHE," Derek once more added his point of view. "Darin
told me Dr. Duncan has already...left the building."

"As well he should," Mark grunted. "Doug tells me EcstasyInc is on the
verge of spending a billion or two expanding they're land mass with several
nude, sexually permissive real estate developments in the works on nearby
islands. If word of the Pooh Bears gets out...that could...no...WOULD all
go up in smoke. Tell me if I'm going to far. Am I right?"

"Concievably," Doug nodded, "though Derek is the P.R. expert, he could say
better than I could."

"I'd say...not convievably but DEFINITELY," Derek gave his expert
opinion. "In fact I'm pretty much in the mood to light the match
myself. The Blade would LOVE a story like this."

"You do and I'll walk outta here this instant," Mark told Derek
sharply. "You and your matches are one of the few things we've got going
for us, one of the few thing Cox will respect. Just the threat... ACTING as
vicious as they are is pretty much our only hope."

"You're going to take on Cox with nothing more than a...a BLUFF?" Doug
asked in dismay.

"Oh, we'll go in armed with a thick, multi-million-dollar malpractice suit,
but we and they will BOTH know we're bluffing on that front," Mark
strategized. "Hell, without a jurisdiction...even if a U.S. court DIDN'T
laugh their fool heads off, it'd still be a long shot. No, what's really
going to give Jim Loin some sleepless nights is Derek Chandler, the Gay
Blade, the New York Times, the Miami Herald, the Washington Post, NBC,
CNN...hell, even FOX! They'd eat this shit up!

---------

"I hope you know I'm as nervous as the tin on a hot cat house roof," Derek
deliberately mangled the trite expression as he and Mark Gonzales rode the
elevator up to the 43rd floor of the Cox International building in Nassau
some two weeks later. "I was hoping to stay in Miami and babyset the kids,
but Doug seems to think the less he has to do with all this the more likely
he'll be able to salvage his business dealings with Cox."

"I can't believe he still WANTS any business with Cox but..." Mark sighed,
rolling his eyes. "How's your masturbating young son doing?"

"Ohhh, since he got out of Siani, he's been prety much his old self, though
his...non-seminal prostatic discharges...he still finds something of a
nuisance. However, he says they've been somewhat less the last couple weeks
since he got out of the hospital," Derek reported.

"Did you folks find an appartment?" Mark asked as the elevator neared the
top.

"Doug bought a two-bedroom condo in a high-rise." Derek went on. "The kids
love it...especially the part involving all three of them sleeping in the
same king-size bed."

"You think it's healthy, they're having an orgy every night?" Mark
questioned, the Bristol family's sexual permissiveness somewhat hard to
take for a former Catholic altarboy.

"Every NIGHT? Try every night and all day LONG," Derek laughed, only
slightly exaggerating. "Healthy? Probably not but...the kids are used to it
now and...who knows, they're HIS horny little fuckers, I'll let Doug worry
about that.

"Just remember, let ME do most of the talking," Mark warned as they stepped
from the elevator onto thick, plush, burgundy carpeting in the hallway.

"Don't worry, I know a little about the P.R. end but..." Derek nodded as
they approached the receptionist.

A few minutes later, one of the Cox legal eagles ushered them into a
sizable conference room with floor-to-ceiling glass presenting an
astounding view of Nassau from the city's tallest building.

"Mr. Chandler...Derek...nice to see you again," Jim Loin rose from his huge
swivel chair and extended his hand across the table.

Derek, out of shear cussedness, ignored the gesture, not even returning the
greeting, but simply sat down opposite the man, who seemed somewhat pissed
as well as dismayed at his rejected show of goodwill. As Mark had advised
earlier, he was being "vicious."

Mark, for his part, opened his sizable briefcase and withdrew an inch-thick
sheaf of papers. "My name is Marcos Gonzales, I'll be representing the
Bristol family in this matter." He wordlessly slid the packet across the
table.

Jim Loin just as wordlessly scanned the document for a couple minutes then
passed it to one of the Cox lawyers beside him. "How's your...step...son
doing?" he once more made an attempt at conversation with his
employee. Derek's employment agreement with EcstasyInc was so ironclad,
firing him was deemed more trouble than it was worth.

"He's recovering," Derek replied tersely, resisting his natural inclination
to go into more detail.

"Gentlemen, if you haven't gotten down to the numbers, we're demanding $200
million in compensatory damages and $500 million in punitive damages," Mark
asserted. "Here's the lab reports from your own people at Cox Pharm and a
second opinion from Mount Sinai in Miami. And here's a deposition from
Dr. Orlando Marcos, the attending physician at Sinai. He'll be available at
your convenience for your people to depose."

There was silence for several long minutes as Jim Loin and about three of
the Cox attorney's peered over one another attempting to read the
documents. There were a few whispered words before everyone returned to
their seats. Jim Loin was about to speak when Mark pre-empted his words.

"I know, those numbers sound outrageous, but what this comes down to
is...pardon my bluntness..,what it comes down to is trying to place a
monetary value on a little eleven-year-old's...BALLS. Even your people at
Cox Pharm have said little Buddy Bristol is sterile. Your T-40 took care of
that. He'll never be able to father children, or, from what we can tell
now, even have anything approaching a normal sex life. You might say we're
assigning a price of a hundred million per testicle. The doctors say CANCER
is quite likely too. As for the punitive damages, there's not a doctor, not
a medical authority of any kind in the world who would say what you did to
Buddy...what you were doing to the entire Pooh Bear group was in any way
ETHICAL, not to mention anything less than a classic case of medical
malpractice in the first degree."

"None of the other boys have suffered any ill effects whatsoever," one of
the lawyers intoned solemnly.

"WOW, aren't you LUCKY?" Mark sneered.

"I see you're going to attempt to file your case in the U.S.--Florida," Jim
Loin noted.

Mark nodded.

Jim Loin suddenly grabbed the lawsuit papers and angrily hurled them across
the room into a trash can, scoring a perfect three-pointer. "Now, maybe we
can get down to business. We both know your fuckin' LAWSUIT is just for
show. Makes a good basketball, though. I've been practiciing that shot for
a week now."

All the Cox people laughed heartily.

Derek resisted the urge to join them.

Mark resisted the urge to get up and march out of the room, if for no other
reason than to cool off.

Derek opened his own briefcase and withdrew five pages, single-spaced,
stapled together. He shoved them across the table to Jim Loin. "I don't
think THIS will go in the wastecan."

"What's this?" Jim Loin reacted in surprise, thinking he now had the upper
hand.

"I'm a newspaper reporter. It's a story I've sent to the Gay Blade with
instructions to run with it unless I tell them otherwise within the next
twenty-four hours."

"What?!, Jim Loin cried as he read the headline. "Cox Pharmaceuticals Makes
11-year-old Boy Sterile."

"Don't worry, I sent it in a sealed envelope, no one has read it," Derek
went on.

"Not even me," Mark added. "But gentlemen, I suggest YOU read
it...carefully. Now, if you'll excuse us, where's your nearest restroom? I
need to take a good healthy SHIT."

Jim Loin nodded to one of his two-hundred-an-hour flunkies who led Mark and
Derek outside where he pointed the way, while the rest poured over what
Derek had written.

A half-hour later, they were called back into the conference room.

"This is blackmail, you know?" Jim Loin eyed them carefully as they sat
back down.

"I prefer to think of it as my journalistic lawsuit," Derek offered his
slant. "Only in this case, there'll be no question as to which 'court' MY
lawsuit will be filed in."

"The Supreme Court of Public Opinion," Mark added, lest Derek's meaning be
lost.

"We need more than 24 hours," the Cox CEO demanded. "Give us a week."

"Gee, a bunch of slow readers?" Derek joked scornfully.

"Forty-eight hours," Mark bargained. "That'll still give the Blade time to
make the weekend edition."

"My guess is that every news outlet in the country...no, on the whole
PLANET...will pick up on this," Derek contributed his expert opinion. "By
Monday, you'll have choppers circling overhead here 24-7, no phone service
except to the press and media, more choppers LANDING on Ecstasy and all
your other little islands, taking pictures, interviewing boys, talking to
some very naked and red-faced guests. You'll be GIVING AWAY Cox Pharm stock
by the end of the week, and the rest of the Pooh Bear parents will be
smelling VERY rich blood. Oh, and I'm very much looking forward to selling
the movie rights to my new book. I'm thinking of calling it 'The Naked Pooh
Bears Visit the Cox Pharm'. I know, it's a little long, but I'm working on
it."

"And if I know anything at all about the financial markets," Mark
continued, Cox Internationl stock will dive to it's lowest level since
'O9. Our lawsuit, which you found so amusing, will seem like PEANUTS."

The Cox legal team looked at one another silently. Jim Loin's tan faded
noticeably. "Forty-eight hours," he agreed sharply, standing, signaling
that their meeting had come to an end.