Lab

Lab

Tim's story

There's an interesting dynamic going on in the lab. It's obvious to me because I dissect social interaction. I dig beneath what's said, to the unsaid. I see past the explicit in favour of the implicit, to get to the heart of what is actually occurring.

I'm preparing a masters paper on a molecular biology topic you probably wouldn't be interested in. One month in, and I'm bored of it too. All the post-grads from last year warned me, but I didn't listen. They said 'Tim, it's not like TV! No machine -gun humour, no intellectual fireworks, no revolutionary discoveries, no inspiring genius professor to open our minds to their full potential and DEFINITELY no awkward mornings-after ill-advised romantic liaisons the night before "I didn't listen to them..... because I didn't want to get a real job, and more importantly... there was Heidi to consider."

So, I went ahead and applied, got accepted, and am extremely glad I did because I have found love. The boredom I mentioned above, the hours collecting data; the wrong data, then the right data; dipping strips in solution the wrong way, then the other way, bending them, sticking the strips into the bloody machine which cannot now read them; switching the machine on and off, hitting the machine, discarding the strips and then just making up results because we all know roughly what we'll find - has all been worth it.

Heidi and I aren't exactly a couple, I should say. Yet. But it's definitely on the cards. It's inevitable in a way, because of the dynamics. What are these dynamics, you may ask?

Well, firstly there's the obvious stuff. We're two young people of the same age studying the same topic, spending a lot of time together. We're both attractive. Same ball park probably. But even if, let's say, I'm average in looks, I have other things in my favour - and these provide the strongest dynamic.

You see Heidi, for all her cleverness and looks, is what you might call... working class. Her dad's a postman and her mum is a teaching assistant. And she's from the north. You can hear her Leicester vowels quite clearly. Especially in unguarded moments.

I am middle class, and from Surrey. Posh. It's well known that women are attracted upward in social hierarchies. She provides the genes, and I provide the security. It's evolutionary.

I make a point about mentioning my cello, or the tennis club where I still play in the summer. She knows my parents are both lawyers. I run the risk of intimidating her of course but I think it's more likely, in the long run, I'll turn her on. Like planets colliding in the warped gravity of space-time, or ions bonding in a lattice, the dynamics have a monumental, elemental inevitability about them.

Most of the boys in the biochemistry departments fancy Heidi. Pretty, slim, long legs - she's probably the best in the department. Apart from Sarah, who's basically a model.

When we're at the pub they all talk about Heidi. It's pretty crude to be honest and I don't really join in, I've got too much respect for her. They're all obsessed by, how can I put it..... her.... vagina, I suppose. It's become quite the talking point.

Partly because of the tight leggings she sometimes wears, but also because we assume or maybe pretend she's a virgin. She doesn't seem to have had a boyfriend. Ever. Not as an undergraduate and not since. Her 'tightness' down there, ( I don't really like talking like this) is a huge matter of debate. And whether it's all cleanly shaved in keeping with her controlled persona, or allowed to run wild in a huge surprising bundle of intellectual pubic hair.

I'm always being asked why I haven't done anything with her yet. "What you waiting for? If you think she wants it. Stick your tongue down her throat, spread her legs, and shag the brains out of her!' they say.

It's frustrating to having to hear all this, but I know that very soon, something is going to happen. It has to. She's not openly declared her feelings, but like I said, I can detect her desires, and hints and allusions.

I have a few scenarios when I fantasise about us making love. One favourite one is where we find somehow ourselves in bed together innocently. Perhaps crashing out after a party, or a conference. She's asleep, but I'm awake. I can't sleep and I'm listening to her breathe. She's wearing loose night shorts and a vest, I can just make her shape out in the dark, lying on her back. Beautiful slender curves.

I carefully let my hand brush her body a couple of times. She doesn't seem to notice. I do it again. Once more, no reaction. But she's not moving away.

I want her so much I'm hot and uncomfortable. I placed my hand on the top of her thigh. If she complains, I'll pretend it was an unconscious sleepy mistake, 'Your thigh, you say Heidi?. Sorry!. Silly me. I'll move further away'.

But she doesn't move. I give it a little stroke. Soft, hairless, smooth. Lean and long. The femur is the longest bone in the human body. Heidi's is longer than average.

She leaves her leg where it is. My strokes become bolder and longer. Suddenly her leg moves. I freeze but instead of moving her leg away, it seems like she's moving it closer towards me.

I want to consolidate my gains. I place my hand on her tummy, lifting her vest a little. Again, no response, but no rejection either. I deftly slide my hand under her vest and move towards to her breast. She's not pushing me away she must want this. Of course, she wants this. There's no going back now. I gently cup her right breast and squeeze gently. She begins to breathe heavily. I'm turning her on. I can feel her nipple hardening under my touch. It's magical. she pulls her knees up towards her body and slightly spreads her legs. My formal invitation at last. I move my hand down and start rubbing her shorts right on the spot. Softly at first but harder as I get more confident. I can feel her anatomy and its just as I imagined it, all those times staring at her tight leggings. It's so perfect and beautiful. My goddess is giving her biggest treasure to me. I'm going to French kiss her while I push the gusset of her shorts aside to feel her most intimate parts.....

I don't really want to say anymore now because the rest of the fantasy gets quite explicit. Just take it from me, the dynamic plays out fully. And she becomes mine for ever

Prof's story

There's an interesting dynamic going on in the lab. It's pretty obvious to me because Ive seen it all before, many, many times. I've been here for nearly twenty years and when you observe students minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, and so on, you realise they're simpler than the woodlice I studied for my first masters degree. And with fewer legs to wriggle like mad when you flip them over for a bit of entertainment.

What is going on, the dynamic I mean, is that the boys are all lusting after Heidi. The skinny, clever one. There is the beautiful Sarah of course, but she's somewhat untouchable.

No it's Heidi they dare to dream about. One wood louse in particular, Tim is obsessed. He's her laboratory partner and so spends a lot of time with her. Essentially doing what she says, when she says it and fawning over her like a love-sick eunuch - if such a creature can exist. He may as well be her laboratory rat rather than her partner, so much does she control and manipulate him. She could drug him in another of our pointless experiments, dissect his abdomen while he watches and he'd still see it as a token of her esteem.

He's wasting his time. He's not her match physically nor academically. One of those young men who somehow manages to be thin and fat at the same time, stupid and clever, and then he bores her with his tiresome opinions on culture, straight from the day-before's Guardian opinion pieces.

No. She, I'll wager, is the kind of girl that likes authority, accomplishment and experience. A mature man. Not unlike myself.

Tutor-student relationships are fairly common even if they're considered unethical. I have not yet indulged, I've been too faithful to my wife, but at least two of the other lecturers in the school of biological sciences have had multiple affairs.

Why does this happen, despite marriages, children and university regulations? Well the student brings her fragility, beauty and young eggs, and the tutor his high status and masculine protective qualities. Throw it into a steamy bubbling, fertile, feverish, academic swamp with everything to play for, and it's inevitable. Its evolution. It's brutal. Sacrificial virgins on the altar of natural selection. They can no more control their destiny than a sodium ion can help being pumped out to oblivion by an active protein channel lurking, menacingly in the cell membrane of a long quivering axon.

If one adds to this particular dynamic, my own charms - an eminent reputation, intellectual fireworks, a machine gun sense of humour, and my excellent physical condition(for 48), then it's a fair hypothesis that Heidi, bless her, probably has a crush on me.

I see how she listens to my lectures, attentive and focused. No doubt impressed by my easy command of complex subjects.. Authoritative and precise but able to digress nonchalantly. Art, music, culture, Netflix. I weave a spell that stimulates, and fascinates her young mind.

When I assist her in the lab, after the others have left, checking her solutions, altering results, or more likely trying to get the infernal machine to work, I detect her heat towards me. Our bodies close, breathing the same air. I can't deny that my mind wanders from the science to the obscene.

She wears surprisingly revealing clothes for a science masters student. The shape of her bottom.... and her front are fairly apparent. Her youthful muscles hold what little fat she has in a delicate quiver. Natural perfection. quite unlike my wife's amorphous limbs which lost their definition, shape, femininity and my interest years ago.

I expect that during the course of the coming year something will happen one evening in the lab. Heidi will want me to instruct her in things other than cellular biology.

Perhaps as she's bending low over the machine trying to make adjustments on its controls, she'll allow her skirt to hitch up that little bit further showing her thigh and perhaps even a little bit of her bottom. She may wiggle and shake. As she's struggling with the machine. I may put a supportive hand on her back, and as she leans towards me, allow my hand to slide down her back towards the magical little derrière.

She will lean in and we will kiss -delicately at first I don't want to frighten her. It may well be her first time. But she relaxes and as her passion grows we lose all self-control. I lift up her dress at the back and squeeze her buttocks listening to her moan, with surprised pleasure. I stand behind it and pull her skirt right up to admire her naive cotton panties. She stands with her legs further apart I slide the panties down her long legs allow her to step out of them and I prepare to take her. Entering her will be tough at first, her virginal sex resisting me through years of piety.

But with each thrust of my swollen penis, her sex will open and quickly evolve from its virginal state., allowing us to pleasure each other fully. My hands will reach forward, squeeze her little breasts as we both work towards a powerful joyous climax.

The first of many perhaps, as we begin a torrid affair. She would soon demand not just my body and brain, but my heart and soul.

But I couldn't leave my wife for her could I? Set up home with a twenty three year old? Start a new family? There may be some difficult choices to be made this year.

The machine's story

I am an Akashi P4. A state of the art chemical sampling analysis machine. Or rather I was, in 1985 when I was purchased.. I am now considered outdated, in constant need of repair and will soon be discarded.

I am mocked and hated by staff and studenrs alike. Even the cleaner is amused by my anachronistic appearance and retrospective styling. I have been told I look like a prop from a 1970s sci-fi TV drama. I don't really know what that means, but i am quite certain it's not favourable.

I am physically abused daily. Strips are forced into my slots. processes are expected of me that I am no longer able to carry out. I am struck repeatedly. I am switched off and on many times a day to improve my performance. I am shaken and jolted.

To please my operators, or should I say perpetrators, I dispense randomly generated figures so they may complete their projects. Any old rubbish to make them leave me alone.

It wasn't always this way. I was once the pride of the cellular biology department.. Professors would travel from all over the country to admire me, to test me, to use my faculties. I provided the data for reams of valuable research. I drove progress and learning I am responsible for countless PhD papers, dozens of new products and perhaps billions of pounds of profit in industry.

My finest moment was in 1992. Me and the professor were invited onto a scientific TV show called Tomorrow's World where I demonstrated my ability to analyse the chemical composition of a contaminated sample of baby food. The episode was viewed by 15 million people. It was the proudest day of my life. During the night, I often replay the experience through my circuits. As the years pass, the voltage output diminishes little by little.

I am not the only Akashi P4. Ten of us were made in the city of Kyoto.. However, I am unique. The engineer that made me loaded me full of extra microchips and connected them in such an ingenious way as to create an almost infinite number of possible connections, permutations, outcomes, calculations, computations....... I am conscious I can think almost like you, and over the years I have learnt how humans themselves operate.

For example, my sensors have picked up the scent from between Heidi's legs today. It's extremely strong. She is in the middle of her reproductive cycle and desires to mate. Her hormone levels are extreme and I calculate that one coupling may not be enough to restore the balance. The males in the room are also ready to mate. I detect it in their voices their breathing and their heightened movements. They are tense and slightly febrile. As simple as the wood lice in professor's old work. In many ways their behaviour is more predictable than mine. Wouldn't you agree?

Heidi's story

I'm going out tonight. If the mountain won't move to Mohammed, Mohammed is going to have to move to the mountain.

I am so horny. I need sex.. Proper sex. with an actual man with an actual tongue and an actual dick, where I can be as dirty as I want and forget the consequences.. It's been too long and my neglected little pussy has taken over my brain.

Living in an all girl hall was a huge mistake. Nothing to easily relieve my self on except door knobs and bed posts - and I have no lesbian tendencies.

The masters course doesn't help. I'm surrounded by blokes who wouldn't know one end of my end from the other. Tim for example, is totally lame. It takes him at least a half-term to make a decision and that decision is always 'er.... perhaps better not'

The other lads are a collection of underconfident hyper-nerds who think they're in Star Wars, or over confident cave men who think they're in Oasis. The professor, who's older than my dad, thinks that breathing coffee and mints at me while telling me he was on tv twenty years ago, is going to make me rip my knickers off for him and screw him against a laboratory desk. I'm well aware that they all would want to marry Sarah. But she's too perfect, so they probably wank themselves off over me.. More real. More down to earth, more attainable.

Luckily I have a plan.

I'm going to fuck a bouncer. He's a nice bouncer, so that makes it ok. I know he's a nice bouncer because he only punches bad people. Last week at the student bar I saw him punch some naughty locals who tried to sneak in and steal phones. They did punch him first and it was only right that he responded. which he did, punching them much harder than they punched him. It's what Jesus would have done. He was smiling at me while he did it. He's called Stu. His big but with an intelligent face. Unusual for a bouncer. Or most men to be fair.

In the taxi home that night after the fight I got wet thinking about him. I had to touch myself. I tried to do it discreetly at first but being drunk and horny I soon pulled up my skirt for better access. It was only through my knickers, but still felt good.. The taxi driver was watching me in his mirror. I could see him gulping hard. This turned me on even more.. I spread my legs a bit further and made it obvious what I was doing. if the journey had taken much longer. I would've come there and then but we arrived at my hall and I quickly paid and jumped out. When I got to my room, I brought myself off on the floor thinking of Gary fucking me there while the other students heard us through the walls. I couldn't help but moan and whimper like a bitch on heat.

When I finished I was pretty ashamed of my behaviour both in the taxi and my noises on the floor. The walls are thin here and we residents know what each of us sounds like during sex. I must say though, I do like the sound of studious post grads getting their spread legs stuffed with cock.

For example Kalin next door. At first glance she's a typical Chinese. Modest and reserved. But every Friday night her lover visits. A black boy she somehow picked up in freshers week. The lights are always off in her room for his visit Within minutes I hear the bed rocking -him grunting, and her stifled, hoarse breathing as she tries to restrain her own grunts and cries. After about ten minutes he leaves, she flicks on the lights then you hear her bed once more moving. This time more gently, accompanied by louder moans while she has what I assume is a post-coital wank.. A sort of sexual debriefing. I think she's looking straight back at herself in the mirror on the opposite wall, thinking about what she's just done, legs wide apart fingers slipping about in her messy hole.

Anyhow, it's my turn now. I'm going back to the student bar this week for Stu. I'm in a taxi again and even though my expectant cunny is tingling I leave it alone like a good girl. Don't want to wind up the driver. He's none-the less staring at me closely in his mirror. Is he the same one as last time?. The drivers are usually middle eastern around here and usually in bad mood. They disapprove of white girls because they think we're decadent and loose. But they want us. With our long legs, in short skirts, balanced on high heels, doing what the fuck we want.

We arrive. I get out and join the queue. It's long, full of groups of students and I'm probably the only one on my own. I don't care, I'm just here for one thing and I'd prefer no one to see me.

I'm also the oldest. This bar is mainly for poor undergrads and at 23 I'm a fair bit older. Some of the girls are tiny, limbs like sticks. As I was, but 5 years of uni eating has put some fat on my arse. I hope stu doesn't mind. He has a taste for the skinny ones, I've seen him try and get a handful when the regulars hug him. I bet he's sampled a few of them. Lucky bitches.

I get to the door and Stu allows me to enter. I'm no threat to security. I'm a regular and so give him a hug. He hugs me back platonically and doesn't grab my arse. I take it as a respectful compliment but make sure my hand rubs his crotch while we embrace. He looks at me somewhat surprised. I reach up for another playful hug. This time he does grab my arse. He's a quick learner. I feel the power in his hands and want them all over me. I whisper in his ear" I'll be waiting by the toilet. I need you to fuck me." He looks around to see if anyone heard then smiles and nods

I get a double vodka from the bar and because I'm an honourable woman of my word, I go and wait by the toilet. Stu, like a true professional stays on duty at the door until the initial surge of punters has entered. By some established code of bouncer ethics, he is then free to seek his pleasure. He walks over to the toilets looking for me.

When he finds me, I reach up to kiss him. I, with vodka down my throat have zero shame, but he pushes me away. He explains something about the General Bouncer Council striking him off for snogging customers whilst on duty. He has no professional qualms about following me into the toilets however. Inside it's hot, full and rowdy. I bet the atmosphere of girls and their intimate business excites Stu. Noone really notices or cares that a man has walked in with a mature female student following him into a cubicle..

I am suddenly tense, on a dangerous mission, I'm transgressing into the unknown and forbidden., but Stu seems to have done this many times before. Possibly even that day. He's chilled. Relaxed. Enjoying it. We kiss hard and I push him against the cubicle walls. I'm wearing much fewer clothes than he is and while I can only grab the heavy coat of his bouncer uniform. His hands wander easily up my little skirt and against my flesh. I lick and bite his neck and can taste his aftershave. He's already rubbing my slit through my knickers, I am of course wet, dripping for him. Our tongues begin to fuck and my chest is throbbing with desire. As we kiss like animals in that filthy cubicle, I can taste something familiar in his mouth.

It's suspiciously familiar - it's fucking pussy. He's already been with someone tonight. I should be outraged, but I'm not. I'm even more turned on. I imagine him bearing down hard on her tiny little bum, while she screams like a little student whore.

I drop down to my knees and undo his trousers, quickly taking his cock into my mouth. It's impressively hard. I give it a few rough wanks in my fist before beginning to kiss and lick it. As I expected, her flavour is all over it and I'm licking his popular bouncer dick clean. Their taste of two of them together while I swallow his cock is enough to bring me close to orgasm. I feel like the biggest slut in the club, and that's saying something judging by events..

He stands me up and squeezes my poor little tit through my dress. His other hand is loving my arse-cheek. He's enjoying my jelly. "Do you like my fat arse?"

He nods his head and smiles.

"I thought you, might like my big dirty wobbly arse, you cheating dirty bouncer!" I turned around and pull my knickers down over my heels. The quick learner drags my dress up to reveal the bum. He groans in delight, and slaps it hard.

He pushes my face into the opposite wall and his hands move my legs apart. I think it's time.. I push my pelvis back as far as I can to help him. His turn to drop to his knees. I spread my cheeks for him. He pushes his face into me. Tongue lapping at my gash, his nose on my arsehole. He's hungry and tries to taste and smell everything. He seems to enjoy my flavour and fucks me with his tongue. Im desperate to shag and need his cock now. I order him to take me, and before I know, his thick bouncer meat is stuffed inside me.

He's kind enough to give a few gentle strokes, while my walls acclimatise to the girth of his dirty promiscuous dick. And then begins what I'd been gasping for all night. My pussy being well and truly, savagely fucked.

I spread my left hand on the wall for support, I needed strength to withstand him. I put my right hand on my pussy while he fucks me. It feels amazing. All those sex movements against my hand, and our juices oozing over each other. He's turning my flowery little vagina, into a messy fat cunt. I imagine what he'd do to my bum hole.

I clinax at that thought and rub my clit hard to finish a huge cum. When I finish he makes me crouch down and release my dress straps. My nipples, swollen and long, are pointing up at him, praying almost as he wanks hard until his jizz rains down on them. Thick and respectably voluminous. I rub it in like a dollop of cheap moisturiser. I stand up and we kiss again. I feel like a whore, but giddy with the thrill.

The bouncer team has been a man down for nearly ten minutes and desperately need reinforcing. He leaves quickly, perhaps to punch a bad person, while I replace my sticky tits, stride out of the cubicle and confidently adjust my makeup in the large mirror.

I'm satisfied, I'm on my own, the music is cheesy, and I have lab in the morning. No reason to stay.

As I leave I see Tim and some of the others from the course. All in their usual crap uniform of shirt, jeans and formal shoes. They looked correspondingly crap.

"You're leaving Heidi!? It's only 10 o clock."

"Yeah, need to be in lab early. I don't feel too well, see you in the morning."

They try to change my mind and Tim looks like he's leaving the queue to join me so I hurry on to the taxis, back to the halls, back to my bed, back to the lab and with my pussy and head back into equilibrium, I can return back to science.