The Dramatic Saga of Peter Q. Kleeshay

By: Billy_Ray77

Chapter Two

Pete wandered into the kitchen still a little groggy the next morning. He had overslept and even though the heavenly smell of bacon hung heavy in the air, the serving plate was depressingly empty.

"Where's my bacon?" he whine.

"You're late." Snapped his mother.

Megan giggled and dramatically downed her last piece, acting as though it was the most wonderful thing she had ever eaten.

"Here, Pete." Said Mindy offering him the lone remaining strip on her plate.

"Thanks, but you don't have to do that."

"It's okay, I'm full. I wasn't going to eat it anyway."

"Thanks."

Pete smiled at Mindy gratefully and sat down to eat a relatively dismal breakfast consisting of one cold egg, one soggy piece of toast and a piece of bacon that was probably the best piece of bacon he had ever had in his life.

Megan snorted derisively, but his mother ignored the whole exchange by watching the news on the small TV on the counter.

Mindy stood and took her plate to the sink, "I'm going over to Wendy's house for a few hours," she said to no one in particular, "I'll be back later." She left the kitchen giving Pete a quick pat on the shoulder as she passed.

In less than half an hour Pete was again sitting in front of his video recorder with a vial of what he had decided to call 'hypno-juice.' He was still documenting and recording every aspect of his experiments. Heck, if this stuff worked half as well as he hoped, these recordings might someday be historical documents.

But it was more than that; Pete felt he was too good of a scientist to rush haphazardly into something this big. Patient and deliberate experimentation along with careful record keeping were simply the hallmarks of being a good scientist. If the experiment went well, the records would ensure that the same protocols were followed in future experiments, or they could be examined to see what went wrong in the event things didn't go so well.

"Test number two of hypno-juice commences now." He slugged back another dose of the exact same volume as the first time. Having learned from his previous mistake, he had placed a clock next to the video camera and he watched it intently. At exactly sixteen minutes the clock jumped ahead two and a half hours.

"Wow!" he told the camera with a smile, "I have no recollection of what happened. One second it was then, the next second it was now. There is nothing in between." He got off the stool yawning and looked into the camera again. "That ends experiment number two." He yawned again, this time adding a prolonged stretch, "I'm beat. I don't know what I told myself to do but it must have been..." he looked puzzled, "Isn't that odd - I made that tape last night and I wasn't under the influence of hypno-juice at the time. I should be able to remember. I suppose I could review the instruction tape to find out, but like I said, I'm tired so I'll do it later." He turned off the recorder and headed up to his room.

Lying on his bed he looked around the room at all the things he had felt were important enough to display and his eyes eventually fell upon his most prized possessions. His old beaten up How and Why Wonder Book's that he had found at a garage sale when he was eight. He remembered the lady who owned them had been asking a dollar a piece, he only had five dollars, couldn't decide which ones to buy and asked the lady if he could look through them to help him decide. She agreed but right about the time he finished reading the fourth one in its entirety she got tired of him standing in her driveway and let him have all eleven for the five bucks.

He scanned the spines reading the titles, 'Magnets and Magnetism,' 'Electricity,' 'Weather,' 'Machines, and Chemistry' - all taught him how the world works. 'Planets and Interplanetary Travel,' 'Rockets and Missiles' and 'Stars' sparked his imagination but it was 'Beginning Science,' 'Science Experiments' and 'Famous Scientists' that had showed him how the scientific process worked and he had read them, over and over again. He still read Famous Scientists once on a while even though he knew it by heart. Truth be told, these days he pretty much just looked at the pictures of those who had made such great strides in advancing mankind, wondering what their lives were like.

How had their families treated them? Did they have bitchy older sisters who loved making their lives miserable? Did they steal their sister's silk panties so they could use them to pound their flounder and then get caught? Did their peers ostracize them? Pete didn't think so. Heck, as far as he could tell, most of them were married. Marriage was something Pete knew would never happen to him. He couldn't even say hi to a girl without getting the shit beaten out of him.

As he reminisced, he thought of how those books had changed his life. It was those books that had given him the idea that anything he ever wanted to know was available in books. He read voraciously, spending every waking moment in the neighborhood library. That was how he garnered his reputation as a bookworm. He even began spending most of his lunchtimes in the school library studying. Not studying what he was learning in school, he had surpassed his grade level long ago.

Shit, he could probably be a senior by now if his mother hadn't resisted the school's desire to let Pete skip grades. His mother was afraid he wouldn't "socialize" properly if he were placed with kids years older than he. Well he had news for that controlling bitch, he wasn't "socializing" properly now.

Sometimes he wished he weren't so smart. If he could dumb it down a bit maybe the other nerds would accept him. But their premises and methods were elementary and basic, quite simply, they were laughable, and he couldn't help but laugh at them.

Pete wondered what would have happened if he had never laid eyes on those damned books, maybe he wouldn't have become a nerd at all, maybe if he hadn't been in the library he would have been playing pick-up football and he today he would be with the football jocks, fucking girls like Carla and beating up pussies like him.

Those books started it. Those fucking books caused every beating he had ever taken. Those fucking books were why he was so damned lonely. Those fucking books had ruined his life. The more he looked at the fading colors on the spines the more he hated those fucking books.

Angry and determined he got off the bed and went down stairs and out into the back yard. Behind the garage he filled the burn barrel about half full with sticks from the brush pile and he soon had them burning fiercely. He added bigger pieces of wood until there was roaring fire and the barrel began to glow.

Going back up to his room he gathered up all eleven of the despicable How and Why Wonder Books, even Famous Scientists - he glared at the smug bastard on the cover, peering into a microscope. "Sure, maybe you were cool in your day," Pete thought angrily, "but being smart doesn't cut it anymore. Not in this day and age."

He carried the whole set out to the burn barrel and just as he approached close enough to feel the heat the world spun. Pete staggered due to the dizziness and suddenly he jumped straight up in the air and whooped with joy.

It worked!

He remembered everything, now. The heat had triggered his memory, just as he had instructed. He now knew that the drug could do everything he wanted it to. He had tested several aspects of its effects and all of them were successful. Not only could he make the subject forget what happened while under the influence, he could make them forget things that happened prior to being given the drug and he could allow them to remember all of those things, after having caused them to forget. Most importantly he could make someone do something entirely foreign to them - something they would never dream of doing, and make them think it was all their idea. Hell, he had even been able to make himself feel apathetic towards the experiment - he hadn't even been curious as to what instructions he may have given himself.

He considered the implications of this as he took his once again prized How and Why Wonder Books back up to his room and placed them carefully on the shelf.

It was almost lunchtime and he was feeling a bit peckish thanks to his small breakfast so he went to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

As a student of the Scientific Process, a young Pete had spent hours studied the various aspects of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, determining the perfect proportion of peanut butter to jelly and how much of the wondrous mixture was just the right amount based upon the size of the bread. Just as he was cutting it in half Mindy came in the back door.

"Hey, Min, want half a PB&J?"

"Sure, you make them good." She took the offered sandwich and opened the cabinet to get a drinking glass. "A little heavy on the peanut butter though."

"Thanks, I... hey, wait a minute, I'll have you know..." Megan barged into the kitchen cutting him off.

"Was that Mindy coming in? There you are! I didn't say you could wear that sweater! I wanted to wear it tonight and now you've got it all dirty. Take it off."

"It isn't dirty a bit." Countered Mindy, unbuttoning the powder-blue sweater and peeling it off to reveal a thin white t-shirt that did very little to hide her dark brown nipples.

"It has your stink on it. Give it to me, now."

Indignation and defiance flashed in Mindy's eyes and she tossed the sweater into the sink, in which the greasy frying pan from breakfast had been soaking in soapy water.

"Big mistake!" exclaimed Megan as she wound up to slap Mindy's face.

"Leave her alone, you bitch!" shouted Pete, as he jumped in between them, catching Megan's wrist in the temple. Megan may have been a girl but she was an active athletic girl and he though he was a boy, he was a sedentary and skinny boy, so the blow rocked him. He recovered and pushed Megan back just as their mother rushed into the room.

"What the hell is going on in here?" she demanded. "Peter Q. Kleeshay you have been told time and time again not to hit your sisters - I have just about had it!"

"But Mom, she was trying to hit Mindy, I just kinda got in the middle."

Their mother looked at Megan, "don't pick on your sister." She said quietly, then she left the room.

Megan reached over and grabbed her sweater, greasy brown water streamed off of it.

"Well, this is completely ruined. You're gonna replace this." She said pointedly, then she dropped the sweater back in the sink and stalked out.

Mindy looked at the angry red mark on the side of Pete's face. Her eyes filled with sorrow. "Thanks," she said with a sad grin her cool gentle fingers lightly touching the red mark on Pete's head. She handed back the half a sandwich, "I'm not hungry any more." She walked out leaving Pete alone with the sandwich that he didn't want anymore either.

He took the sandwich and milk downstairs with him just to make an overture towards not wasting it. He prepped his dosage and made sure the tape was ready to go.

This experiment would determine whether or not he could allow the subject to remember everything, even the commands that were given to him or her, and still be compelled to obey them. He started the recording and took his usual seat.

"Third experiment with hypno-juice, same dosage as the first two. I think the only danger now is the possibility that the drug accumulates in the body. I do not intend to take any more of the drug after this experiment so I think any danger is negligible."

With that said, he drank his third dose of hypno-juice and watched the clock. This time at fifteen minutes the clock again jumped ahead two and a half hours. Subjectively the time had passed in an instant, but he could remember all the things that happened in that "instant," he could remember everything the 'him' on the videotape had told him to do. He was to go up to the kitchen and fix up a glass of three parts pickle juice, one part hot sauce and two parts soy sauce, drop in a raw egg and drink the whole thing, in medium sized sips, savoring each mouthfull for several seconds before swallowing. It would taste awful but he would have to act as though he liked it. Throwing up was not an option, according to his instructions, and he had said that although he would find himself ravenous, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to eat or drink anything else until he had completed this task.

Basically he had instructed himself to do something completely disgusting yet relatively harmless to his health.

"Fuck that." He said to himself, his eyes falling on the PBJ he had brought downstairs with him. "I'll show... well, me, I guess." He said wryly, picking up the sandwich. He brought it to his mouth but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to actually take a bite. All he could think of was the pickle jar in the refrigerator upstairs.

Since he couldn't eat, he concluded that he just needed something to distract him. He looked around the basement but didn't see anything that looked interesting so he decided to go upstairs and see what was on TV.

Once upstairs he took his sandwich and milk into the kitchen and set them on the counter. He opened the fridge and there was the jar of pickles. Curious he opened it and took a sniff. That didn't smell so bad, he liked pickles.

Taking a glass from the cabinet, he filled it halfway with the sickly green juice from the jar. He tried a small sip and grimaced from the strength of the sour liquid.

"OH, that's nasty!" He exclaimed to no one.

Determined that he wouldn't actually drink it he decided to mix up the prescribed concoction just see what the end result would be. Once he had added the hot sauce he topped off the rest of the glass with soy sauce, leaving enough room for the egg which 'glooped' softly when he dropped it in. The black ooze looked worse than he had anticipated. Leaving the glass on the counter he went into the living room to watch TV.

After an episode and a half of 'Fairly Oddparents' he was so distracted by the ominous glass of disgustingness in the kitchen he wasn't able to enjoy the clever antics of Timmy Turner and his magical fish - or whatever the hell they were. His stomach was rumbling and he was so hungry he could hardly stand it. Back into the kitchen and he again tried, unsuccessfully, to eat the PBJ. He could get it too his mouth but simply could not put it in. Fast or slow, two hands or one - he even tried sneaking up on it but there was no way he could eat the sandwich.

They were his commands. He should be able to disregard them if he desired, but whatever he tried there was simply no way he would be able to eat anything until he drank the disgusting contents.

He grabbed the glass, intending to chug it and get it over with but found that he pulled the glass away from his mouth after taking just a small amount into his mouth. It was several seconds before he could swallow and the nauseating flavor filled his senses with revulsion as the vile fluid slid down his throat. Coughing, he looked at the glass through watery eyes and realized to his horror that it would take ten to fifteen drinks to get this all down and he still had the raw egg to get through.

"Mmmmmmm." He said his eyes rolling back in pleasure. To anyone looking it would appear he had just had a sip of pure ambrosia.

Before his tortured taste buds could fully recover from his first sip he felt compelled to take another drink. The egg floated on top and with this drink he did get a little of the slimy white so that along with the disgusting favor he also had the sensation of drinking snot. The yolk just bumped his upper lip. He suppressed a strong desire to retch. He couldn't throw up of course - his commands forbade it.

Sip after agonizing sip he slowly made his way to the bottom of the glass. The last drink finally included the yolk - it was the most revolting thing he had ever ingested, both in flavor and texture. This time he did retch, several times, but nothing came from it.

"Oh boy! <gack> That's just great! <cough>"

Having drained the glass, the compulsion was lifted and he was free to eat whatever he wanted. By now, though, he didn't want to eat anything. His stomach churned and burned causing him to belch heartily several times putting lie to the oriental wives' tale that a hearty belch meant a meal was enjoyed.

What he really wanted to do was to go and take another dose of hypno-juice and command himself to forget the horrible experience he had just undergone. Instead, he went up to his room and lay down on his bed. When his mother came to tell him dinner was ready he said he was feeling sick.

"Well you better get UN-sick pretty quick," she commanded, "You're going to school on Monday and that's all there is to that." As though Pete had ever tried to lie to get out of school - in fact he had lied about not being sick a few times so he wouldn't miss school.

About an hour later Mindy knocked softly and then came in.

"How ya feeling, big brother?" she asked quietly, concern on her face.

"I'll be all right," I said trying to reassure her, "it's just something I ate, I'm sure of it."

"Well, I'll be in my room right next door, if you need anything just holler."

"Thanks." Pete mumbled as she closed the door carefully.

He considered her small, yet kind gesture and knew that whatever happened with the Hypno-juice, he would never mistreat Mindy in any way. She had always been kind to him - even when they were little. She frequently asked him for help with her homework and was always appropriately impressed with his intelligence and grateful for the help. It always seemed to be he and Mindy against Megan and mom, so of course, he and Mindy lost. She, at least would be spared his wrath.

He pictured her soft brown eyes and lithe curves causing his enchilada to swell to burrito-like proportions and he was compelled to stroke it. Manhandling his mutton he imagined himself mercilessly hammering his sperm filled sausage into Mindy's delicate hot pocket. She would scream in ecstasy, cumming over and over again while he passionately drove every inch of his magnificent manhood into all her sweet tight cock snugglers. It didn't take long before his throbbing yogurt gun discharged all over his chest.

He was going to be nice to Mindy, that was a given - but she was still going to be his fuck-slave. He would just make sure she liked it. That would be nice, wouldn't it?