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From: "Riv" <rivyavtry@myway.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Pheromonicon 2/? {RivYavtry} (mf inc msolo mc?)
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Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 16:10:01 -0400
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Please let me know if you want the series to continue.

   Riv Yavtry

   *********************************************************************

   The occurrence in the park freaked me out.  I checked the local
newspapers but there were no reported incidents involving young girls in
parks.  I made a point of going past the park several times during the next
week but there was no police presence or evidence of an investigation.  I
even thought I saw the kid there playing on the swings, but the park seemed
to be a lot busier than at the time of the incident and it could have been
my imagination.

   It looked as though the incident was going to be consequence‑free,
and my sense of purpose returned.  The next time I tested my pheromone
preparations I would use a much lower dose and under more controllable
conditions.  That's what made me think of Anne, my Senior Lab Technician.

   Most people would describe Anne as a mouse.  She had mousy boyish hair
with a pleasant but unexceptional face.  She kept in good shape and had a
nice figure, but hid it underneath baggy, unflattering clothes.  She was
intelligent and I knew from her CV she achieving good school grades but
dropped out without going to college, and she was extremely good at her job
- ask her to do something and it got done and done correctly, no excuses.
But the mousiest thing about her was that she was so quiet and unobtrusive
that people who saw her virtually every day seemed to be completely unaware
of her.  For example, at least once a month my boss Dr Arnold Hadaway, the
company's Director of Research, made a point of touring the lab and meeting
the staff, and every time I had to re‑introduce him to Anne because
he had forgotten who she was.  What made Anne such a stand‑out as a
potentially good subject was that she was unmarried and to the best of my
knowledge didn't have a current boyfriend so she was unlikely to be taking
the pill.

   Monday morning I made sure I got to the lab first.  I estimated Anne's
position on my pheromone wheel and, selecting the sampler containing the
formula from the opposite side of the wheel, I applied a tiny dab to the
collar of Anne's lab coat.  Unobtrusively I monitored Anne throughout the
day but I noticed no abnormal behaviour.  I made a point of going to ask
her work‑related questions more than normal in order to provoke
opportunities for abnormal behaviour to manifest itself, but each time she
was the model of decorum.

   Tuesday morning I applied a larger dose of pheromones to her collar. 
Again nothing untoward happened.  Wednesday I applied the pheromones quite
liberally, but to no avail.  In spite of my assumptions the most likely
explanation was that she was on the pill, but I couldn't really ask her
"Hello Anne, I've been conducting secret experiments on you but they
haven't worked.  Are you on the pill?" That would be a very certain way to
lose my job at the very least, and quite possibly my liberty too.  Perhaps
a more circumspect approach would work.  For lunch I usually grabbed a
sandwich from the staff restaurant and either took it outside to the
recreational area behind the building - there was plenty of seating and a
large artificial lake with goldfish and waterlilies, and a large flat
grassy area which younger members of staff monopolised for impromptu soccer
- or if the weather was wet or cold I went back to my office and read the
newspaper.  However I knew that Anne usually ate something more substantial
so I decided to join her in the restaurant.  I helped myself to a salad and
some fries then found her sitting alone and unobtrusively at a
table‑for-two in a dark corner.

   "Hello Anne, mind if I join you?" "Hello Dr Hardy, please do." I put on
a mock frown and a stern voice.  "You've been working for me for six years
now.  I think it's about time you called me Brian." She smiled and relaxed
slightly.  "Yes sir, I mean Brian." She emphasized the name `Brian' a
little more than absolutely necessary and I smiled in return.  We discussed
inconsequentials for a while then I steered the conversation in the
direction I wanted it to go.  "You know I do out‑of‑hours
research in the lab?" "Yes.  I've often wondered about it but it's none of
my business and you always clear up meticulously." "I'm researching
pheromones." I then gave her a brief rundown of my theories, omitting to
mention the pheromone wheel and the pheromone preparations I had prepared
to test it.  "So at the end of the day, the company might find my research
beneficial.  It could be used towards creating new perfumes, for example."
I finished by way of justification.  "The biggest problem I have is that
all the research is nullified by the pill.  I don't know how many women
take it, what type, and if there's any way to tell." She thought for a
while before replying.  "For women, the pill is very much a lifestyle
choice, so you might be able to deduce whether a woman is taking it from
her other lifestyle choices.  For example, a career woman with a partner is
likely to be taking it.  A married woman who's given up work is likely to
be trying for children and not taking it.  I guess I'm a bit of an unusual
case because I haven't had a partner for a long time, but one of the
reasons I'm taking it is because when you start from scratch it takes a
couple of weeks to become effective and I want to be prepared in case the
right man comes along." She glanced up and looked me in the eyes for a
second as she said that.  That started my mind racing.  I had the
information I needed - the trial failed because she was on the pill - but
the way she looked at me made me wonder whether she considered me as a
potential partner.  She was so unobtrusive that I hadn't even thought of
her like that, but now I felt flattered at the possibility that such an
intelligent and personable woman had thought of me in that way.

   After we finished eating we got coffees and continued chatting.  She was
very easy to talk to and the conversation flowed easily.  But we're
officially limited to maximum of an hour for lunch and eventually Anne
glanced at her watch.  "It's been nice, Brian, but I'd better be getting
back - I want to finish analysing the latest batch of samples before I go
tonight.  Do you mind if I ask you a question - are you going to the garden
party on Saturday?" The company CEO, Irving Kronstein, invites senior
employees to a party at his house a couple of times a year.  I have always
managed to think up some excuse to avoid it but I'd been dredging the
bottom of the barrel recently.  "I'm trying to think of a good excuse to
avoid it!"

   We walked back to the lab together and went back to work. 
Mid‑afternoon Dr Hadaway made an appearance and I had to introduce
him to everyone again.  I made sure he noticed Anne this time - "and I'm
sure you know my Senior Lab Technician Anne Marshall by now.  The lab would
cease to function without her." She blushed and looked embarrassed at the
praise.  Before he left Dr Hadaway had a quiet word with me.  "About the
garden party on Saturday, Brian.  I know you usually avoid them but your
work is getting you a very high profile in the company and Irving really
wants to meet you.  It would look very bad if you didn't go."

   A Hollywood A-list actor renowned for his womanising (which is ironic,
because in real life he's gay) is given a choice of six drop‑dead
gorgeous woman wearing revolting day‑glo shades of lipstick.  (I
don't choose the lipstick colors, I do the science).  The actor gives each
of the women a white shirt‑collar to kiss.  Each of the kisses leaves
a day‑glo imprint except one, our brand.  The actor leads our woman
off by the hand and at the end of the commercial you see them kissing in
the distance under a romantic sunset (but of course the actor has been
replaced by a body‑double).  I made the innovation several months ago
and we've been quietly feeding it through into our products but only now
are we about to give it high profile publicity hence the Hollywood actor.
You can expect the commercial on your televisions and cinema screens
anytime soon, and the talk is that the innovation will change us from being
a medium‑sized company to a major player.  This time I would just
have to grit my teeth and sacrifice my Saturday.

   The rest of the week passed uneventfully.  I didn't try to experiment on
Anne again.  I resolved to lunch with her again but not until next week and
I found that the anticipation rather exciting.  I walked past the park
again one evening and I thought I saw the kid on the swing but I couldn't
be sure.  To be honest, I couldn't even remember what her face looked like.

   Saturday came and it was a lovely day.  I dressed smart‑casual and
took a cab to the CEO's residence.  I was a bit surprised when I arrived as
I expected the house to be much larger but my opinion changed when I was
shown through to the garden - it was huge and beautifully maintained with
sweeping borders of exquisite flowers.  Dr Hadaway pounced on me as soon as
he saw me and escorted me round, making introductions.  "And this is our
host and the man who against all odds keeps the company running, Irving
Kronstein.  Irving, this is the mad scientist who's responsible for your
huge bonuses next year, Dr Brian Hardy." I nearly burst out laughing.  The
mighty Irving Kronstein was a Toby‑Jug of a man - short and round
with almost no hair.  But I looked in his eyes as I shook his hand and
detected a keen intelligence behind them.  "We meet at last, Dr Hardy.  I
want you to know that we appreciate everything you're doing for the
company. We're not a big company at the moment and we can't match the
salaries of the big boys but we're growing and that's going to change. 
You're having a major impact on the industry and if anyone comes making you
offers I can't guarantee that we'll match them but we'll have a damn good
try.  I want you to be happy working for us." "Thank you Mr Kronstein."
"Call me Irving.  All my friends do.  And may I call you Brian?" We were
standing quite close to the house and at that moment there came the sound
of people inside shouting.  There were two indistinct complaining voices
but they were drowned out by a woman's voice.  "You WILL get out there now
and you WILL look after our guests and you WILL look happy or you're both
grounded for a month." "Ah, here comes Maria and the gruesome twosome" said
Irving conspiratorially.  "Don't believe what they say about twins.  My two
are always fighting." Three people emerged from the house, a female
Toby‑Jug and what looked like a couple of
fourteen‑year‑olds, both of whom were taller than either
mother. "Meet our star research scientist, Dr Brian Hardy.  This is my
lovely wife Maria and the terrible twins, Martin and Michelle.  I shook
hands with Maria, who gave me a very warming smile.  The twins had been
trying to smile but they glared daggers at Irving when he called them the
terrible twins.  You could see the resemblance - they were both quite
sturdily‑built and had similar facial features - but they seemed to
have gone out of their way to express different personalities.  Martin had
short spiky jet black hair and was wearing the baggy black t‑shirt of
a heavy metal band and black jeans whereas Michelle had stunning long
blonde hair, blue jeans and a tight pink t‑shirt which was being
swollen very nicely by a very cute pair of breasts - not very large, but
very promising with plenty of time to grow.  Neither offered me a hand to
shake so I didn't profer mine.

   I wandered round the garden party making a token attempt to mingle until
Irving called out "Ladies and gentlemen, the barbeque is now serving food.
Don't all rush at once." As if in defiance of his instructions, most people
seemed to gravitate towards the source of the delicious smells that had
been wafting over us for the last half hour.  Over the next hour or so I
helped myself to a couple of burgers, a kebab, some pieces of chicken and
salad.  When I was sated I found myself next to Irving.  "Hi Mr Kronstein,
the food was excellent but my hands are all sticky.  Is there somewhere I
can wash them?" "Call me Irving.  Yes, of course.  Follow me." He led me
into the kitchen and after I washed my hands in the sink he handed me some
kitchen roll to dry them.  "Why don't you let me give you a guided tour of
the house?" I was curious about the Kronsteins' lifestyle so I let him lead
me round the house.  On the ground floor was the kitchen, utility room,
dining room, lounge, games room, study and a bathroom.  Upstairs was the
master bedroom, the twins' two bedrooms, the live‑in housekeeper's
room, a couple of bathrooms and a spare bedroom which also housed the
twins' computers because they weren't allowed computers in their bedrooms.
All were tastefully decorated without vulgar displays of opulence.  While
in the spare bedroom Irving explained to me that the housekeeper was their
only full-time servant and that Maria did most of the gardening, but she
had an odd‑job man two days a week to do the heavy stuff like mowing
the lawns and trimming the hedges.  A telephone elsewhere in the house rang
three times.  Shortly afterwards a woman's voice shouted "It's for you Mr
Kronstein, I've transferred it to the study." "I have to leave you I'm
afraid, but you know where everything is" said Irving, and he left the room
and made his way downstairs.

   I looked at the two computers on the two desks.  They were both switched
on and they had network cables coming out of the back so I guessed they
were connected to the internet.  From the surrounding paraphernalia and the
screensavers - a hot‑rod and a puppy - there was no doubting which
computer was used by whom.  Martin's computer had a wide‑angle webcam
on top with a built‑in microphone.  A really wicked idea came into my
head and I grasped the opportunity without stopping to think.  Accessing
the Martin's computer, which fortunately didn't have a password on the
screensaver, I set the webcam and microphone to record, and set the IP
Address of my PC at home as the temporary destination.  A red LED came in
the base of the webcam came on.  It had a screw connector so I unscrewed it
half a turn and it went off so nobody could tell it was recording.  I
estimated Martin's pheromone placing on my wheel and put a generous dab of
the opposite pheromone formulation on his porous rubber mousemat.  Then I
estimated Michelle's pheromone placing and dabbed the opposite formulation
on her porous rubber mousemat.

   I rejoined the garden party and mingled for a short while, then I made
my excuses, thanked the hosts for their generosity, called a cab and left.
Back home I set my computer to accept the transmission from the webcam and
microphone and record onto my hard disk.  Nothing was happening in the
spare bedroom at the time so I stopped watching and went off to do
something else.  Late that night I checked in again and the transmission
had ceased so in all likelihood Martin had rebooted or switched off his PC
and all evidence of my activities had been lost.

   I played the recording the following afternoon.  Nothing happened in the
room itself for a very long time, but several times I heard indistinct
shouts as the terrible twins argued.  Dusk fell and the light in the room
faded.  I heard the twins rowing again, then they were drowned out by Maria
Kronstein's powerful voice.  "I don't care WHO started it.  You're both
grounded tonight.  Now go upstairs and finish your assignments." "Awww mum,
pleeease." "NOW!".

   Shortly afterwards the bedroom door opened and the light came on.  The
twins came in and Martin made a point of slamming the bedroom door behind
him.  Michelle had been crying and her eyes were red.  They sat down at
their respective computers and started working.  After a few minutes
Michelle turned to her brother and said quietly "I'm sorry bro.  I don't
really hate you." "I know sis.  But everything always seems to go wrong
between us." They made a pretence of working for a little longer, then
Martin turned to Michelle and said "How about we kiss and make up?" "Ok"
replied Michelle.  Martin rolled his chair over to Michelle's and leaned
towards her.  They seemed to try to peck each other on the cheek but went
for the same side and their lips met in the middle.  They looked mildly
surprised but didn't break the kiss and it started to get rather
passionate. They eventually had to come up for air.  "Mmmm, that was nice.
I like making up" said Michelle.  She moved over onto Martin's knee and the
started kissing again, this time exchanging tongues.  Martin put a hand on
one of Michelle's breasts and Michelle responded by putting her hand over
the front of Martin's jeans where his cock was making them bulge.  They
were breathing heavily now, and Martin started rubbing Michelle's breasts
through her t‑shirt.  Michelle responded by rubbing Martin's cock
through his jeans.  Martin then started kneading Michelle's breasts. 
Michelle broke the kiss.  "Ouch, they're tender.  Be gentle with them." The
kiss resumed, accompanied by more tongueing, rubbing and fondling.  When
they next came up for air, Michelle indicated the bed with a sideways nod
of her head.  "Shall we?"

   The two teens moved over to the bed and started undressing each other,
which was both highly erotic and slightly comical.  They managed to peel
each other's t‑shirts off, but Martin struggled with Michelle's
virginal white bra and she had to remove it for him.  The result has
magnificent - her beasts were small but firm and shapely with large brown
areolae and prominent erect nipples.  Next came the jeans and then the
underwear, both twins choosing to turn their backs while Michelle removed
her white panties patterned with small blue flowers and Martin removed his
black boxer shorts.  Michelle was facing the camera so I saw her nude
first, getting an excellent view of her body.  Although she had a stocky
build her body was superb, well-toned and nicely tanned all over with no
sign of flab anywhere.  Her pussy was nicely trimmed, the light brown a
stark contrast to her blonde hair.  Martin was similarly stocky and
well‑toned, with dark brown pubes and a smallish cock, about 4.5
inches I guessed, but very thick.

   Michelle got on the bed and lay back with her legs apart.  Martin
mounted the bed between her legs and tried to aim his cock at her cunt. 
After a couple of inept misses, Michelle grabbed his cock with her hand and
positioned it herself.  Martin tried to push all the way in but only got
about an inch - Michelle was still a virgin.  He gave a very hard push and
broke through Michelle's hymen, causing her to grimace with pain.  He
pushed all the way in then started thrusting in and out.  He came very
quickly, grunting loudly as his semen spurted into his twin sister's cunt.
His rapidly shrinking cock slipped out and he rolled off his sister and lay
on his back next to her, his cock streaked with blood and semen and
glistening in the light from his sister's juices.

   Unsatisfied, Michelle massaged her pussy with her fingers but stopped
after a few perfunctory rubs.  She got onto her knees and, grasping
Martin's cock firmly round the base, she popped the head into her mouth and
started sucking and licking.  Martin's cock magically sprang back to life.
Michelle then kneeled over Martin's stomach and lowered herself onto his
revived cock.  Controlling the tempo this time, she fucked her twin brother
cock by raising and lowering herself onto his cock, emitting quiet mewing
sounds as she bounced up and down, her taut breasts barely moving against
her ribcage.  As she got closer to cumming she speeded up and the mewing
got louder.  Martin was getting close to cumming too and he thrust his hips
off the bed to meet her.  Michelle lowered her hand to her pussy to rub her
clit then came with a loud squeal.  Then the bedroom door opened and I
heard Maria Irving say "What's all that noise in here?  Oh God.  NO! 
IRVING!" Michelle lifted herself off Martin's cock just as he started
cumming.  His first spurt landed on her belly, the second and subsequent
spurts falling back to land on his own stomach.  Both the twins rushed to
get dressed, not stopping to clean themselves off.  They left the room to
go and face the music with their parents.

   There was a lot of indistinct shouting in the background but I couldn't
make out what was being said.  I fast‑forwarded through the recording
but nothing happened in the bedroom until near the end.  Martin came into
the room and went over to his sister's computer.  A few mouse clicks and
the quiet background hum diminished as the computer was shut down.  Martin
then came over to his own computer, but the mousemat pheromones struck
again.  He took a handful of tissues from a box on his desk then fished out
his cock from his jeans and boxers.  The cock was clean and the boxers were
patterned so he'd cleaned up.  His cock was already erect with a drop of
precum seeping from the eye.  He grasped the shaft with his right hand and
pistoned up and down a few times, then grunted loudly as globs of white
semen spurted into the wad of tissues.  "What's taking so long up there?"
came Irving's voice.  "Coming, dad" Martin replied.  Ditching the tissues
in a wastebin, Martin clicked his mouse a couple of times to shut down the
computer and the transmission ended.



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