Date: Sun, 28 Apr 2013 00:26:00 -0400 From: John Marshall <crackerjacker18@hotmail.com> Subject: The Pharm Boys Chapter 20 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" and "EcstasyInc." "The Pharm Boys," like the previous segment, is unorthodox but quite seductive, as are the figures depicted. Like "Ecstasy Island" and "The Working Boys," "Ecstasy Renewed" (all found under Bisexual Adult/Youth), and "EcstasyInc" (found under Gay Adult/Youth), 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. Some of the minor characters from the earlier stories have returned to become major characters, 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. THE PHARM BOYS CHAPTER 20 It was three minutes after seven a.m. Dr. Abrams was the last one of the "big ten" to arrive and find his seat at the massive conference table next door to Mike Warren's office. The mood was tense, the chit-chat minimal, the coffee flowed like free beer. Hanson had somewhere come up with Danish pastries and donuts. They were disappearing rapidly. Fear made everyone hungry. No one had to say it. They were failing. "First of all, why did no one tell me about Diamond," Dr. Mike Warren asked, attempting to sound calm but failing. "He's okay," Dr. Meredith reported. "That's NOT what I asked," Mike boomed. "I guess we were preoccupied with more difficult problems," Dr. Abrams suggested lamely. "No, my guess is none of you give a fuckin' damn about these boys you put together in your giant test tubes," Mike paused to calm himself. "You only care about their fuckin' BRAINS...sorry...minds," he corrected himself. "All too guilty," Dr. Estes raised his hand limply, shaking his head. "Look, Mike, I know how much you care for the boy, but we've all been working under...EXTREME...pressure...as Dr. Meredith reported, he's okay...nothing serious...okay, that's not quite right...MORE serious than before, but..." "What the fuck happened?" Mike demanded details. "Basically what happened before...overload...a little more than his backup system could handle this time..." Dr. Meredith explained. "Seems some new kid...Tink called him Kevin...well, they did a little...orgasming together and..." "Kevin...Kevin Cox?" Mike thundered. "I...suppose...Tink didn't mention..." Dr. Meredith and the others looked at Mike strangely. Mike recovered instantly, slumping, shaking his head. "You're right...it's...nothing we didn't already know...or suspect...just..." "Actually what happened was EXACTLY what we programmed, the system shut down, no overheating, no burnout, no loss of memory or long-term processing capactiy," Dr. Abrams sought to put the best face on the event. "Hmph...lot of fuckin' good he's gonna be if he passes out during every orgasm," Mike noted dryly, then moved on. "Okay, hope you all had a good twenty minutes of sleep last night. You all know Josh Delecourt...probably better than I do. And in order to save time, I'm going to also hope you all know about what he proposes to do in...shall we say...coping with this new, super-cool Level-four mind. Am I correct?" There was a general nodding around the table. "Now, I realize, you each have your own specialties and you each stand at the TOP of the ladder in your fields, which means you're each going to have diverse understandings of this...situation...solution...fuck, I don't even know what to call it. In fact, I'm guessing Josh, here, is the ONLY one here who has a complete understanding of everything involved. What I want to know from each of you is...is he a fuckin' genius or so full of shit his eyes are brown." There was a moment of tense, subdued laughter, except from Josh, who meerely smiled confidently. "Estes...?" "He's neither, but that's beside the point," Dr. Estes began, seeming to have aged twenty years since Mike had last seen him. "What he wants to do will, I think, work...but not well enough." "WHAT!?" Josh erupted from the other end of the table. "You said...!" "Shut up, Josh," Mike stunned them all. "You said your piece last night." "First of all, kudos..." Dr. Estes continued. "He's right on the button in using the nano-transceptors as insulation. We've found that the Cox nanos do give out sufficient heat...well, 1.7 MILLION of them do, at least, to mitigate the -50 degrees farenheit temperature of the super-titanium containment, warming it by some hundred degrees. The emulsiion he proposes helps too, even if we're not exactly sure how much and what we're gonna stir up and use. No, where he's wrong is this whole idea of mixing up some kind of caramel apple coating full of nanos then dipping...coating the containment with it a half-dozen times or more." "We could try spraying them on," Josh suggested more calmly than before. "Nope," Estes rejected that idea out of hand. "Josh, the problem with your solution is not the solution itself but the procedure. You can NOT get the neuroganglia to penetrate any coating we're likely to formulate and attach themselves to the nanos. In other words, you can't dip, you can't spray, or brush, or roll it on in any way, shape or form. "One layer?" Dr. Eagleton from physiology deduced. "In theory, yes," Estes allowed. "To use the caramel apple metaphor, you're allowed one...DIP...then you have to...I guess you'd say, roll it in the chopped nuts...nano-transceptors in this case, using the emulsion more like GLUE than paint. One layer of transceptors, each in contact with the containment." "The neuroganglia LOVE...absolutely LOVE those transceptors, you should see them in the lab," Dr. Adams gushed. It's like a giant fuckfest ORGY the way they mate and then grow and grow and..." "We get the idea," Abrams sighed, shaking his head. "I guess the next question I have is, can you get 1.75 MILLION...chopped nuts...on the surface of the containment?" Josh was shaking his head. "Three hundred...three-fifty tops...we've got to find a way of layering them." "You think three-hundred-fifty thousand is the the absolute limit?" Mike questioned the "new kid on the block." "What about a neuroganglia-friendly emulsion? Someone near Josh at the other end of the table suggested. "There's Cyclogen but..." Dr. Estes suggested. "But what?" Mike asked. "It's made by Astrophys and it costs about a zillion dollars an ounce," Dr. Estes continued. "Astrophys is a Cox competitor," Hanson whispered into Mike's ear as he sat hunched in folding chair behind him. "Could we make a reasonable facsimile of this...this Cyclogen?" Mike asked, pretty well knowing the answer in advance. Several in the room smiled. "Yes and no," Estes sighed. "Yes, we could make it, but not in any reasonable time frame and it'd cost...two-zillion to do so. "Any other bright ideas?" Mike questioned, gazing around the room hopefully. There were lots of shrugs and lots of silence but little else. "Yes." It was Josh again. "Let's hear it," Mike invited hopefully. "Multiple containments." "HUH?" Abrams stared at him dumbly, the idea so off the wall as to be incomprehensible. "How much smaller is the containment than the old Level II mind?" Josh questioned. "Roughly half to three-quarter of an inch," Abrams told him. "Exactly 0.79 inches," Dr. Meredith confirmed the higher range. "Okay, suppose we create a second contaiment...maybe about a half-inch larger, wouldn't have to be titaniaum...or even metal...or even rigid, then we coat both the inside and the outside of that surface with nanos and whatever it takes to hold them in place, let the ganglia flow INSIDE the OUTER containment as well as attach themselves to the outside of both continments...three surfaces..." "Times three hundred, three-fifty, tops...lets say a MILLION inputs," Dr. Abrams objected, "still barely half the 1.75 million we need." "Why so many?" Dr. Estes questioned. "What?" Abrams retorted, unused to having his data questioned. "I said...why so many?" Estes repeated quietly. "It's a big fuckin' BRAIN, that's why," Abrams raised his voice slightly. If anyone else in the room had raised the question, it wouldn't have been slightly. "Too big," Josh quietly announced from the catbird seat at the far end of the table. "I beg your PARDON?" Abrams glared at him. "It was YOUR fuckin' idea to go to Level Four." "Just because a computer will accept x-number of inputs, doesn't mean you have to USE that many." Josh continued. "If I recall the Level Two mind accepts only...half a million or so inputs, right?" "Four-fifty...four-hundred, fifty-thousand," Abrams sighed, starting to see where Josh was going. "And the Level Three?" Josh questioned his elder like a criminal prosecutor. "Eight-hundred thousand...give or take one or two," Abarms allowed. "Which is what you were going to settle for in upgrading, right?" Josh persisted. "Right," Abrams sighed in resignation. "So nine-hundred thousand to a million...the number we were kicking around as feasible with dual containments...would probably be sufficient? Abrams took a deep breath. "I hate that word...probably...but..." he nodded. "Yessss, probably." "Gentlemen?" Mike looked about the group, expecting further objections. "A woven, polymer pouch would probably work best, if a single layer of nanos plus emulsion would be sufficient to warm the titanium containment with only three-hundred thousand transceptors providing heat." "We've found in the lab that neuroganglia won't touch anything below around 35 degrees," Dr. Able asserted. "So, the warmer the better." "Call up CoxChem, see if they can help us here," Mike ordered. "We could reduce the Fraxon pressure in the containment," Dr. Meredith suggested. "Minus fifty always struck me as overkill on the cooling front." "I disagree...barely adequate, in fact," Dr. Abrams insisted. "Gentlemen, work it out," Mike told them dismissively. "Crank it up, test it out, give the kid an orgasm or two, see how hot he gets." "You want us to...to activate a Level Four...just for experimental purposes?" Even Abrams was shocked at the idea. "Can you adjust the Fraxon pressure after activation?" Mike questioned. "Well...yes, I suppose we could but..." "But, what, Dr. Abrams?" Mike insisted. "As Josh told you last night, try thinking outside the box." "Rig up the pouch thingie...the second containment, pop the whole thing into the amniotic fluid, light it up, ask the kid how he feels...too hot...too cold, give him a simulated blowjob," Josh joked enthusiastically. "I have a feeling if we limit the number of inputs to...let's say a mere million or so, we'll also reduce the heat generated, even under stress, to something we can more easily handle. -------------------- Ronon woke up first. He felt someone sucking his cock. At first he thought it was Kevin but quickly realized his husband was still sound asleep in the crook of his arm. Still half asleep he looked down over his slender naked boy-body. There was a little blond boy sucking him...longish hair, about ten or eleven, Ronon guessed, and the sweetest, most beautiful little face he'd ever seen in his life, with the possible exception of Kevin. "Silly, right?" Ronon struggled to recall the boy's name. He was guessing. "Hope you don't mind," the boy lifted his lips from Ronon's six-inch boy-cock long enough to ask. "A beautiful little boy wakes me by sucking my cock? No, can't say as I do," Ronon kidded the boy, whispering. "Suck away." "You're husband is really HOT," Silly smiled, eyeing the sleeping blond twelve-year-old boy cradled in Ronon's embrace, still blissfully sound asleep. "So he keeps telling me," Ronon smiled down at the boy as the kid returned his lips to Ronon's swollen cockhead. "Feels good, keep doin' that." Silly kept doing that even as Kevin stirred in his sleep next to Ronon. Then he apparently went back to sleep. Ronon tilted his head up so he could see the bedside clock. It was just after seven. That was early for Kevin to awaken. Ronon sometimes got up around six. He wondered if he should go over to the main house and see if Toy needed help breakfast for her hoard of boys. He postponed that thought. Silly was making his cock feel too good for such altruistic volunteer duty. "Ahhh, yeah, boy, keep doin' that, keep doin' it to me like that, ohhh fuck, kid, you know how to make a guy's cock sing." "Gonna make it spurt, too," Silly insisted, pausing only an instant in sucking Ronon now with a vengence. "You're good, who taught you to suck cock?" Ronon inquired of the boy, despite the fact that in answering Silly would, in effect, be postponing Ronon's ultimate sexual pleasure. "Everyone...Tink, Toy, Hanson, Diamond," Silly reeled off a list. Then he sucked some more. "They're gonna love you to death when you get to Ecstasy," Ronon told the boy as he felt his aching sexual pleasure growing more acute. "Not goin'...I'm bought and paid for," Silly stunned Ronon somewhat. "Isn't slavery illegal, even in the Land of Ecstasy?" Ronon inquired, knowing his question was both rhetorical a well as empty. Virtualy NOTHING was illegal in the Land of Ecstasy...except for rape and clothes. "You know Buddy Bristol...they boy they named this island after?" Silly asked, now taking to simply stroking Ronon's cock so they could talk. "Of course," Ronon told the boy, shuddering slightly as several powerful jolts of sexual pleasure shot through him. "When he turns twelve, I'm gonna be his birthday present," Silly explained. "I'm a surprise." "I can believe that, you never cease to surprise me," Ronon joked. "You jack as well as you suck." "Thanks, gettin' ya close?" Silly asked as he expertly stroked Ronon now a little faster. "Oh yeah," Ronon gasped as indeed, his orgasm was just around the corner. "I think they have in mind for us to get married eventually," Silly told Ronon. "I think you'll be very happy...two of a kind...horny little fuckers...sweet, cute, smart, hypersexual...yeah, I'd say you two are MADE for each other." "We gotta wait till we're thirteen," Silly explained. "Tink thinks twelve is too young." "So do I," Ronon kissed the boy as the kid's hand became a blur on his cock. "Oaooaooaooaohhhhhh fucccccckkkk..." "How old were you when you and him got married? Silly asked as he brought Ronon closer and closer to orgasm. "He was ten, I was twelve," Ronon admitted, despite what he'd just told the boy about twelve being too young. "We've been married two years now." "Seee...it's NOT too young," Silly insisted, kissing Ronon's face lightly. "WE were too young....Tink's right...twelve is...and awkward age for a boy," Ronon inisted. "Puberty smacks you in the face. Of course on Erotic Isle, there are ten dozen other boys who'd like nothing better than to destroy your marriage just so THEY could marry you." "You been to Erotic Isle?" Silly asked in surprise, "what's it like?" He returned to sucking Ronon's cock. "No, little boy, I've NOT been to Erotic Island. All I know is from what I've read and heard," Ronon explained as is pleasure threatened to boil over. "Ohhhhh myyyyy god, you suck...ohhhhh fuck, deep-throating me...fuck, aoghahehha god, oagbheoaiehoihae fuck feels good, feels good, feels good." "What's Ecstasy like?" Sill wanted to know next, torn between asking questions and sucking Ronon's cock. "Like what I'm feeling right now...aogheoaiehorih fucccckkkkk, kid," Ronon cried out as his pleasure nearly tipped over into orgasmic reward territory. "It's like that feeling you feel just half-a-second before you shoot your cum." "I can't shoot yet," Silly informed him. "You will...once I get done with you," Ronon promised. "Of course you'll have to wait until you get done with ME." "What happened to Buddy...what'd they DO to him?" Silly suddenly asked with great seriousnes. "They gave him something that screwed him up inside," Ronon grossly oversimplified. "He gonna be alright? I don't want my husband to die young," Silly worried. "For now," Ronon sought to set the boy's mind at ease. He failed miserably. "They say he has cancer," Silly repeated the island's grapevine. "He does NOT have cancer...now or anytime in the past," Ronon insisted, being careful not to include the future in his declaration of good health. "But he WILL get it in the future, right?" Silly was not just one hell of a little-boy cocksucker, but quite an intuitive one as well." "I didn't say..." Ronon started to object to the boy's conclusion. "I noticed that," Silly interrupted. "How'mi doin? Gettin' you there? Gonna make you cum?" "ohhhhhhOOOhhhhhhfuck, sooner than you think," Ronon gasped, squirmiing his butt around on the bed, thrusting it high up into Silly's jacking fist. "Do it...do it, man...shoot your cum...orgasm for me...make youself cummm..." Silly ordered. "Keep jackin' me...ohahhahhh fuck, little man, keep jackin' me, keep jackin' me, keep doin' it to me, harder, faster...oahhahh god,...oghehahehhh fuck, fuck...fuck...FUCCCCKKKKK, AGHAOEAERIGEGHAH OAHEHAEIRIIH FUCK, MAKIN' ME CUM, SILLY, MAKIN' ME CUM, MAKIN' ME CUM, KEEP JACKIN' ME, BOY, KEEP JACKIN' ME, JACKIN' MY COCK, KEEP JACKIN' MY COCK, OOAHGHHAHE FUCK, YEAH, SUCK IT SOME MORE TOO, AOGIHEOAIEHRO YEAHHHH...YEAH, BOY HANG ON, YOU'RE ABOUT TO GET A MOUTHFUL...SHOOTIN' SOO HARD, GHHAEIROAIEHOI YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, BETTER AND BETTER, CUMMIN' AND CUMMIN' AND CUMMIN...AGAEOIAEORIHOIHG!!!" "oHHHAHHAHHHH FUCCCCCKKKKKK, NICE ONE," Silly cried, barely able to contain himself as he unloaded buckets full of orgasmic pleasure onto Ronon's thin, heaving abdomen. "YOU'RE MAKIN' ME CUM REALLY....AGHHAEOIROAEHRHHEHHGHH...HARRRDDDD," Ronon cried out in almost painful sexual plesure at what Silly was doing to his cock. "Feel it...feeellll it really good...yeah, yeah, feel it really good, really hard, Ronon, shoot, it, shoot it, shoot it." Kevin stirred once more in his sleep then opened one eye. He promptly closed it again. "I'm next."