Further Experiments

The quiet, even breathing of my mother filled my senses as she slept peacefully beside me. My mind raced as it replayed the events of the last few hours. Every last lewd second of our lovemaking... no strike that hard fucking. I carefully slipped off the couch, making sure not to wake up the lovely MILF who was passed out from exhaustion; the cool air caused my skin to goose pimple.

I dressed quickly, paying mind not to touch the spot where my mother had injected me with protogenes. Damn that injection hurt like the devil. A quick peck on the cheek caused Trista to let out a soft moan before she rolled over, placing her back to me. Man, she has a sweet ass.

The lobby of my mother's company was empty; Lashanda's vacant desk being a high point of disappointment. The walk to the bus stop was lonely. The only thing to greet me upon my arrival at the stop was the electric hum of the fluorescent lights. Back and forth, I paced, waiting on the bus to arrive. I felt like a coiled cobra waiting on prey.

After what seemed like an eternity, my transportation arrived. Boarding the bus, I could not help but be taken aback by the row after row of barren seats. The only other soul aboard was a young woman seated near the middle. I wonder how powerful my pheromones are. It would be unethical to test them on that innocent woman. But what better experiment than a woman who I've never met before. I guess there is no time like the present to find out.

My mind made up I slid into the seat behind my unsuspecting guinea pig. The woman in front of me was engrossed in a novel. And not a regular holo book but an old school paperback. Judging from the many white creases in the spine, this was not her first read-through. I leaned in to get a better view of my prey. She was cute, probably in her mid-twenties. Her skin was a lovely shade of olive. Her frame was small, and her breasts were nothing to write home about. Chestnut colored hair with dark golden highlights flowed from her head like gentle waves on a pond.

After a few minutes of observation, the woman began to fidget. Finally, she was unable to concentrate; she placed her bookmark and closed the book. I sat back just before she turned around to face me.

"It's a bit late or you to be out, isn't it, young man?" She asked.

I didn't even flinch. I was so used to being treated like a kid that it no longer phased me. If anything, it was a blessing in disguise. What better way to test the power of my pheromones than to try and tempt a woman who believed that I was strictly off-limits.

"I was visiting my mother at Hart Genetics," I guilefully replied.

"And she let you take the bus home alone?" She asked, concerned.

"It's ok. She's a very busy woman. Honestly, though, I don't think she is even aware that I left," I replied, keeping up the ruse.

The mousy woman looked away. Her face was awash with concern. "You shouldn't be alone." Then she turned toward me. "Are you hungry?"

I tried to hide my smile as my plan was coming to fruition. "Yes."

She reached out and grabbed me by the hand, and hurriedly pulled me to the front of the bus. "Wavery and Easton, please."

"Additional stop at Waverly and Easton acknowledge. Please return to your seats. We will be arriving at your destination shortly," The bus chimed.

The woman sat down in the front empty, pulling me to her lap. "I hope you like Mexican. El Charrito has the best Lengua tacos."

It wasn't long before our stop arrived. The woman pulled me along a dimly lit sidewalk. We had to step into the empty streets a few times to avoid the strewn and forgotten garbage on the concrete.

Finally, we arrived at a run-down building. Every third letter of the restaurant's name had burned out on the neon sign. Inside there were a few tables that seemed to be missing chairs. The woman led me to a small table for two and took a seat.

An older Hispanic woman walked over to our table shortly after our arrival and sat down a bowl of salsa and tortilla chips. "Hola, Rose." She turned to me. "What a cute boy. A friend of Michael?"

"No, he's a stray," Rose answered. "He snuck off from his mother and decided to take the bus home alone."

"Boys will be boys," She said, patting me on the head. "So, what can I get you two?"

"Four Lengua tacos and a side of refried beans with queso," Rose said, not bothering to peer at a menu.

This level of dismissiveness was hard for me to swallow. Neither of these women had given a second thought that I might be well beyond plus five. But for the sake of determining the extent of how the protogenes were working with my physiology, I held my tongue. "What book were you reading on the bus?"

She blushed a bit. "The Chronicles of Ganymede and Phoebe."

I understood why she blushed. That book was often derided as smut. It told the story of Shota and his professor and their illicit love affair. One of the original erotic books following the plague that imagined a boy with a working cock. I had read a few chapters for a laugh in high school, and from what I could remember of them, the person who described the working penis did not have a clue to how one performed when aroused.

Before I could press Rose, our waitress arrived with our order. Rose had not lied about the tacos; they were the best I had ever had. The beans and queso were exquisite. The book forgotten I learned that Rose now lived alone. Her mother and brother Michael, a plus-two, had moved out of the apartment they had all shared when Rose's mother had started dating a woman from the next town over. Rose hated her mother's girlfriend, who she considered a stuck up puta. But she missed her younger brother terribly. The conversation continued until our waitress advised us that the restaurant was closing.

"Oh no, I didn't realize how late it had gotten," Rose said, her face showing concern and embarrassment. "There isn't another bus until morning. Come on; you can stay with me tonight."

It was everything I could do to contain my smile. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"It's ok," she said as she threw thirty credits in paper money on the table. "You can sleep in Michael's old room."

I didn't protest any further. Rose and I soon made our way to her apartment complex. It was a two-story affair. Rose's unit was located on the upper floor. The building, like the rest in this neighborhood, had seen better days. The door opened with a loud creak.

"Sorry about that. The landlord is supposed to come by and fix it, but getting her to do anything takes an act of congress," She said apologetically as she slammed the door a couple of times before it finally closed.

The apartment was a small two-bedroom. Rose had taken over her mother's old room and left her and her brother's room very much like it had been before she was left alone. The room seemed much more like a shrine to her absent sibling.

I walked over and sat down on Michael's bed, patted beside me for Rose to join me. Almost as if on autopilot, she came over and sat down beside me. "You miss your brother, don't you?"

She looked away from me and sighed. "Yeah, I took care of him more than mom did. I miss having to fix him breakfast and make certain he's at school on time."

I placed a hand on Rose's thigh. When she did not attempt to remove it, I decided to press my luck. I scooted up next to Rose. No time like the present to see if my pheromones have done the trick.

I kissed Rose on the neck.

The mousy girl spun and looked at me in the eye; fear and arousal were present in her face.