Kathrine & Irene make some startling discoveries

“Alright, sample number one,” Irene says, “scale of one to five, rate how similar this is to either the first or second smell you experienced,” as she wafted the sample under Kathrine’s nose.

Kathrine scrunched her nose and coughed, “About a one and one point five?”

“Noted,” Irene replies, writing down the results and capping the sample cup again, setting off to the side. “Alright,” she added, reading and then popping the lid off the second sample “next,” she said, and repeated the process again.

You step out of the shower, drying yourself off. You certainly feel much cleaner than before, your lower half no longer sloppy with dried sex juices, your skin no longer lousy with sweat. It felt good to be clean, you thought as you absentmindedly stepped out into your room in your towel to knab some clothes to wear for the rest of the day.

You run through your wardrobe looking for an outfit to wear, something that looks nice but still casual enough not to come off as preppy or stuffy. You are just laying out your clothes of choice on your bed when you hear your phone ding with a new message.

You mosey on over, unlocking it, and opening the new message.

Marcy: Hey John!!!

Marcy: Sorry but I dunno about any parties happening tonight

Marcy: I’m out with the fam today!!!

You open the picture that she has sent you, her and her older sister Mavis, sitting somewhere around a table with an indoor pool in the background wearing swimsuits. You gulp.

You have history with Mavis Olsen. She is the same age as you. A childhood friend to you just as Marcy was to Kathrine, your parents setting up double playdates for the both of you to keep you busy in your youth. Mavis had been very much a tomboy since forever, more inclined to play with knives and hunt for bugs in the creek with you then make mud pies and play dolls with Marcy and Kathrine.

But then puberty hit and hormones happened to the both of you. Her hips filled out, her frame slowly becoming more pear shaped and womanly. And you, in your own adolescent sexuality, became increasingly awkward around her, excited by the changes in her in a way that confused you and her. Culminating in you asking her out in middle school with a note in her locker, something simple, just check yes or no.

Then you got the note back in your locker, with a new checkbox, with “best friends forever :)” written next to it. And so with your little heart broken, and so you and Mavis slowly but inexorably started to drift apart. By the time that you started high school, you and Mavis ran in different circles, seeing each other less, eventually dating other people and the rest was history. According to Marcy at least, she’s going to Poly State too, but as far as you are aware she’s a ghost. You text Marcy back.

YOU: Ok, thanks anyways!

YOU: And say hi to Mavis for me

You add, hit send, and drop your phone back on your desk.

You sigh and turn back to your clothes, rubbing your chin and finding it scratchy. Odd. You step into the bathroom and look at yourself, sporting what looks like a five day beard already.

“Huh,” you say, wondering if this is another gift or just the fact you have slept straight through the last couple of days. Your eyes trace down to the happy trail from your belly button down to where the towel covers you and squint. Are you hairier than before too?

You unwrap the towel and take a gander at your tool, surrounded by pubic hair. You give it a few pumps and it starts to come to attention, nearly poking the bathroom vanity. You stand there, considering the risk and benefit of shaving all that hair away. Did girls like that? You frown. You supposed that you had gotten lucky with the jogger this morning without having to go through the trouble of shaving yourself clean, so no need to start now, but you could at least shave your face and do a little bit of manscaping.

Kathrine and Irene both felt like this process had been going on for what felt like forever, slowly going through each sample; testing, recording, and repeating. Testing, recording, and repeating.

The lid of the next sample popped off, filling the laboratory with a potent smell, earthy and woody.

“Sample number 33,” Irene coughed. This was the strongest scent that they had tested so far, invading her nose even through the surgical mask, “scale of one to five, rate how similar this is to either the first or second smell you experienced,” as she wafted the sample under Kathrine’s nose for a moment, before quickly capping it again.

Kathrine felt a chill go up her spine, “Wait,” she says, drawing in another breath.

“Mhm?” Irene says, pen at the ready.

“Can I smell that again?” Kathrine asks.

Irene stares at the blinded Kathrine for a moment, then slowly, sucks in a deep breath and uncaps the sample once more. Her eyes water at the heady scent as she wafts it under Kathrine’s nose a second time, letting the girl get a good strong whiff of it, before quickly capping it again and sucking in a mostly fresh breath.

“That’s a five,” Kathrine gasps, “that’s almost exactly the same as the first smell, the one that was in the whole apartment.”

Irene quickly wrote a big ‘5’ and circled it several times for emphasis, before her eyes flicked to the label.

“Huh,” Irene says, “that’s odd.”

Kathrine felt herself tense. “What is?” she asked, lifting the eye mask and furrowing her eyebrows at Irene.

“It’s 10 percent musk deer tincture,” Irene coughs, getting another breath of the stuff, “strong stuff, and you’re telling me that his whole place smelled like this?”

“Stronger even,” Kathrine replied, searching Irene’s eyes for an explanation.

“Fascinating,” Irene replies, jotting down a note, suddenly invigorated to be getting somewhere with figuring out these smells. Her mind raced. She didn’t know much about musk, other than that it came from animals and was some sort of pheromone. She marked down that she had reading to do on the matter, something that she did not know very much about, pheromones.

“Hey Kathrine,” Irene asked, eyes narrowing, “did you feel any different when you were in John’s apartment? Any sort of reaction to the smell?”

“Well, uh,” Kathrine felt her face start to turn red, “I mean,” she mumbled, rubbing her knees together slightly.

“Anything at all?” Irene asks while leaning forwards, pen at the ready to scratch out more notes.

“How,” Kathrine says, her throat suddenly dry and feeling very very bashful about trying to explain how being in John’s apartment had made her feel. Hot. Bothered. Excited. Hor- “How about we at least finish the testing before that?” she says with a weak smile.

“Oh, yeah,” Irene replies, slowly putting her pen down with a suspicious slowness and pulling her mask back on over her mouth and nose, “sure.”

Kathrine tugged the eye mask down over her eyes again.

“Ready?” Irene asks.

“Ready,” repeats Kathrine.

Irene sighed, mind elsewhere, moving fast, “sample number 34.”

You rinse your face off, and check yourself out in the mirror again, reveling in the smoothness of the skin on your face. You sigh, looking over your naked form, cock still hard, and awkwardly pressed against the bathroom vanity. You look at the razor, then at your crotch.

“Nah,” you say, setting down the razor and walking out into your bedroom again, finally getting dressed and ready to go grocery shopping, pocketing your phone and wallet. You pause while passing through the kitchen, looking through your pantry and then your fridge, judging how much space you have to work with and how much food you can stuff in the apartment before Mark starts to complain. You gather up the pile of grocery bags by the front door, packing the rest of the bags into one and opening the door and walking out.

“Sample number 37,” Irene says, uncapping one of the last three samples, eyeing the cloudy, white fluid inside. She smacked her lips, glad that she couldn’t smell it at all, “scale of one to five, rate how similar this is to either the first or second smell you experienced,” as she wafted the sample under Kathrine’s nose.

Kathrine sniffs hard, leaning forwards. It smelled like ozone, weakly, but kinda just like―

Kathrine stood bolt upright at once, the stool skittering backwards away from her.

“Goodness,” jumps Irene, reflexively capping the sample and putting the hand to her chest in surprise.

“It's a five, for sure. That’s the second smell I smelled in his apartment,” Kathrine states, “the one that was in his room.”

Irene looks at Kathrine's masked face and then at the label of the sample.

“Huh,” Irene says, marking down the results with another big "five" and circling it several times.

“What is it?” Kathrine asks, taking the eye mask off.

“Human semen,” Irene flatly replies.

“Wh―?” Kathrine says, her voice caught in her throat.

Irene gave her an amused grin as she scribbled more notes in the margin of her clipboard, “what?” she finally asks.

“But―” started Kathrine, looking confused, staring down at Irene’s feet.

“How?” Irene adds.

Kathrine met her eyes for a moment, face flustered.

“Great question,” Irene states, “you said that he usually sits with you at lunch?”

Kathrine nodded, mind still reeling.

“I think I’m gonna have to join you for lunch this week, then,” Irene says with an excited smile, "now, about how being at his apartment made you feel?" she asks, flipping to a blank page, pen at the ready.