Date: Fri, 22 Mar 2013 01:53:26 -0400 From: John Marshall Subject: The Pharm Boys Chapter 11 In trying to avoid the most common plot scenarios featured on Nifty, this story continues the saga which began with "Ecstasy Island,"continued with "The Working Boys," followed by "Ecstasy Renewed" and "EcstasyInc." "The Pharm Boys," like the previous segment, is unorthodox but quite seductive, as are the figures depicted. Like "Ecstasy Island" and "The Working Boys," "Ecstasy Renewed" (all found under Bisexual Adult/Youth), and "EcstasyInc" (found under Gay Adult/Youth), this one is also written in third person and proceeds in something close to real time with extensive dialogue to carry the story along and intense character development. Some of the minor characters from the earlier stories have returned to become major characters, but there are also quite a number of new characters which will occupy the main spotlight in this segment. Once more, this story is extremely orgasmic with all ejaculating dialogue written in UPPER CASE. If you do not wish to be exposed to such material as described, leave now. If you are too young for this sort of thing, leave now. If reading this causes you to break the law where you live, leave now. Otherwise, take the time now to get naked and get your cock hard, start strokin' it. Jack yourself off as you read and see if you can time your own blasts of naked sexual pleasure with those of the people in the book. This one averages about two to three orgasms per chapter. For that reason, I don't recommend reading more than one chapter at a time. Any more than that might be hazardous to your sexual health...especially your hard, throbbing cock. Note: The inclusion of any actual individuals in this story is in no way meant to suggest actual occurrences or their sexual orientation. All drugs mentioned are fictitious. If you like what you read, let me know at crackerjacker18@hotmail.com. THE PHARM BOYS CHAPTER 11 "Do we have to shower together again before we visit the Mind Line?" Mike asked his teenaged assistant as they took the elevator up three levels to the top level of the underground facility. "Only if you want ME to do this honors this time," Hanson winked. "Maybe they should save time and put showers on the elevators," Mike suggested. "Your hairnet looks very becoming," Hanson teased. "Yours would look better if it covered the FRONT part of your head," Mike gave as good as he got, "especially your MOUTH." "This way," Hanson led Mike around a corner, through another, slightly less cumbersome vault door into another huge, dimly lit room only slightly smaller than the one they'd just left. Running down the center of the room was a single, glass-walled room about the length of a football field and about forty feet wide. Inside the brightly lit chamber were around a hundred young men, most appearing to be in their late teens or early 20s, sitting on bar stools facing the production line. Those not sporting shaven pates wore only the ubiquitous white hairnets. "Gives a whole new meaning to the term, 'mind control'," Mike observed dryly. "Don't talk to any of the line workers," Hanson told him. "Oh?" Mike reacted. "This is EXTREMELY delicate work requiring total, focus and concentration," Hanson warned. "Hi, you must be Dr. Warren," a thirty-something woman came out of the glass double doors, hand extended to greet them. "I'm Myra Johnson, the floor supervisor." "Miss....is it miss or misses?" Mike asked. "Miss," Myra informed him, "glad to finally get around to meeting you. I've heard a lot about your work on Ecstasy." "You have?" Mike reacted in surprise, as much at her words as her naked presence. Although she was fairly attractive, her body was so spectacular as to have been designed by Cox Pharm. "I'm kind of a science geek...plus I know some people over there," Myra explained. "I'm so glad you were able to sent that bastard Duncan packing. He used to be my boss, and I hated the ground he walked on." Mike smiled induligently, making no comment. "Tell me, how many naked guys in there do YOU boss?" "Only the ones who'll LET me," Myra joked. "There's 87, counting Jeb, my assistant...Jeb Lewis...I'll introduce you when we go in." "This all seems like something out of Isaac Asimov," Mike moved closer to the spotlessly clean glass partition. "It does, except that we passed the robot phase of development several years ago," Myra smiled. "Don't worry about staring, they're real, I'm quite proud of them, and I enjoy the attention." Mike was embarrassed. He hadn't realized his staring at Myra's generous mammary development was so obvious. "I'm going to have to practice being subtle," he laughed. "Don't bother," Myra joined him in laughter, "around here it's about the only entertainment we ever get." "Myra's what you might call the star attraction after hours," Hanson explained. "She run YOU competition?" Mike teased. "No competition," Myra insisted. "He's a rank amateur compared to me." "You fuck those you supervise," Mike asked, somewhat concerned. "All but...Aaron, Allen, Mason, and...uhhh...Damon...the second one on this end," Myra acknowledge. "They're all too gay to enjoy my cunt." "You ain't missing much with Damon," Hanson observed. "He's about as hot as a popsicle." "This is all very intriguing, but suppose we might enter this citadel of the manufactured mind before us?" Mike asked, growing impatient for a closer look. "Certainly, just...we have a rule here...no communication of any kind on the line...total silence," Myra repeated Hanson's instruction. "You'll notice every man in there is plugged in to music. They work 90 minutes straight, taking a half-hour break, then back again...ten hours a day." "What's the pay scale?" Mike asked as they followed Myra's shapely butt into the antiseptically clean production chamber. "Starting pay is fify dollars an hour," Myra told him. "I earn twice that. The others fall somewhere in between, plus room and board, all the guys you can fuck, free Internet access, gaming, and all the island's MANY recreational opportunities." "Did I hear a note of sarcasm in that last line?" Mike asked in dismay. "I told you," Hanson chirped. "We're not allowed to mollest the little boys over at...Tinkertoy...is it, you're calling it now?" Myra explained, trying to grow accustomed to the new names from Mike's earlier memo. "We swim in the lagoon, fuck a lot, hang out over at the hotel some, fuck a lot, bird watch, fuck a lot, collect sea shells..." "And fuck a lot, I get the idea," Mike laughed. "I'll see if I can't pry loose some Cox cash to help you out." "Thanks, it'd do wonders for morale around here," Myra told him. "Is that a big problem?" Mike asked apprehensively. "Some, though...I'll tell you, these guys are all EXTREMELY sexual...and Duralon addicts, most of them," Myra continued. "Don't be surprised if you see some of them popping the pill and getting it on as soon as they leave the room, even before they doff their hairnets." "Where's the conveyor belt?" Mike asked as he began moving down the line, looking over naked shoulder after shoulder as the various components were pulled together. "No belt...too stressful," Myra told him. "When each man finishes, he simply passes his work on to the man next to him. See that ugly looking robot in the middle aisle there? It's in charge of distributing any backlog to workers downstairs who take up the slack." "I'm surprised you don't use MORE robots with something like this," Mike observed. "We have three," Myra told him, "as you can see. The problem is, right now at least, it's easier to train humans to do the work than it is to manufacture, program, and test out machines." "One of the Adonises told me Cox software, to use his word, 'sucked'," Mike recalled. "Had to be Diamond...he's a sweety..." Myra acknowledged. "I did a lot of heterosexual testing with him...Toy and I...we're about the only women on the whole island." "What about Hannah?" Hanson input. "She tends bar...Level One clearance...over at the hotel," Myra acknowledged. "Actually, I've never met her. They rather frown on Level Five people fraternizing with Level One workers...pillow talk...all that. Toy and I are good friends though...nice change from all the boys here." "So, you have eighty-seven steps in putting together each mind?" Mike asked as he moved on down the lengthy line, watching intently as the hardware grew more and more complex with each station. "Right. Down here, toward the end on this side we start graphing in organic brain tissue," Myra directed Mike's attention to the point where the line swung around 180 degrees to move on up the other side of the "robot access isle." "Stay out of the way of the robots, they pinch," Hanson warned. "Only Brick and Brock, Percy, not so much," Myra confirmed. "Percy?" Mike laughed. "We think he's gay," Hanson smirked. "We call him Percy, his given name is Brack...Brick, Brack, and Brock." "I think the guys over in the computer center are playing mind games...pardon the pun...with us," Myra suggested. "One of the reasons Cox production software is so primitive is those guys would rather tinker with the training software going into the minds than programming robots," Hanson explained. "Right, Brick and Brock especially are dumb as door knobs," Myra confirmed. "Percy...seems to be a favorite...he's a little more...intuitive...I guess you'd say." "They told me I'd find the research and development here somewhat uneven," Mike recalled. "Yeah, these guys are all gung-ho to start...as you call it...formulating boys," Myra explained. "Cost containment, robotics, production rates...don't interest them much. This is the 'wet' side of the line. Here you can see, more and more, each unit beginning to take on the size and shape of a human brain." "Wet, I take it, because the brain tisssue must be kept moist?" Mike guessed. "Doesn't that interfere with the electronics, where moisture is a conductor, something to be feared at all cost?" "We do some segregating and sealing but most of the electrical element is chemically generated so, far from presenting a problem, it's actually NECESSARY," Myra explained patiently. "When does the learning take place...the training?" Mike questioned. "So far, it hasn't," Myra told him. "...except in the lab. I see you're still a little blue...you've met and enjoyed Diamond, he's state of the art, training software version 7.3, learning software 5.4...I think...right Hanson?" "Something like that...5.43 I think...they keep changing it every hour or so," Hanson joked. "The case is 6.0," Myra continue as they moved back up the production line on the opposite side as before. "Case?" Mike asked. "His body...they've pretty well got the physiology rounded up to perfection." Hanson explained. "The mind hardware we locked down at verson 7.5 when we started production last month," Myra explained as the conversation moved back to her area of expertise. "I keep looking for them to come over here and change a bunch of stuff but so far, apparently any improvements have been so minor as to not warrent the disruption." "The training software involves physical movement, the dynamics of survival, right?" Mike probed. "Yes, while the learning software is...well...facts of life, so to speak, basically a high school education associated with a human boy with a 120 IQ." "Is it a huge step to upgrade to higher IQs insofar as production is concerned?" Mike asked "The more memory, the longer the line. The processor is installed at step 39. The size and power of the processor largely determines the intelligence of the mind. Right now, though, they're battling the age old computer buggaboo, HEAT. The more powerful the processor, the greater the heat generated," Myra explained. "Anything past Level 3 intelligence and heat becomes a major problem," Hanson imparted. "You didn't hear this from me, but the day before you got here, our geniuses over in the computer center FRIED a mind," Myra told them softly. "No shit!" Hanson reacted. For once his grapevine had missed something. "Shhhhhhh..." Myra hushed him. "Now they've switched to working on biochemical heat sinks." "The mind was conscious...activated at the time?" Mike asked in concerned dismay. Myra nodded. "They called him Benny," she whispered. "Sad," Mike murmurred softly. "That gonna hold up the start of production...formulation, I mean," Mike asked. "Don't ask me, that's outta my line," Myra begged off. "I doubt it," Hanson ventured where Myra feared to tread. "These minds are all headed for Ecstasy...or one of the other EcstasyInc sandboxes. Level one minds are old technology." "If you wanna call six months ago 'old' technology," Myra rolled her eyes. "So why are they struggling with upper level processors?" Mike questioned. "That's a good question. Ask Doc Abrams," Myra told him. "I just...formulate...I don't prognosticate." "Cause no one told them NOT to," Hanson answered Mike's query. "Where do all these people live...sleep...fuck each other blind?" Mike asked, looking about over the whole room. "Some have space over in the residence block, some take the subway to the hotel, others...come on, I'll show you," Hanson answered his boss's question. Outside the clean room, they walked silently across the polished concrete floor toward a double door. On the other side was two long rows of double beds, each separated by a nightstand with a lamp. A rug ran across under each bed to warm the feet at bedtime. "It's like an army camp with double beds," Mike shook his head in dismay. "Looks like I'm gonna have to shake loose a new residence block, this is rather...austere." "Unless you're only into workin,' sleepin,' and fuckin'," Hanson shrugged as they headed for a set of stairs. "Sleeps forty, though...as you can see..." he nodded toward three or four beds with rather hyperactive sexual activity was taking place, "sleep is a pretty broadly defined term around here." "Where do they eat?" Mike asked, having not seen any kind of cafeteria or dining area. "There's a break room downstairs with vending machine, microwave, fridge...kind of a communal thing," Hanson revealed. "Or they go over to the residence commons area across the lagoon for a hot meal, or go to the hotel cafe." "Looks like this place could use a nightlife," Mike smiled as they climbed to steps. "Where we goin' now?" "Topside, to the main entrance," Hanson told him. "I figured I'd better show you why you're...guard post up the road is such a stupid idea." "Thanks," Mike told his assistant dryly. One thing about Hanson, he spoke his mind. Although the trait irritated him at times, on the whole, Mike felt comforted by it. For an eighteen-year-old who looked barely fifteen or sixteen, the kid knew the ropes in an environment where "the ropes," often resembled a spider web. At the top of the steps, they passed a single armed guard. "There's one just like him down at the subway turnstile," Hanson explained. They walked out through an open overhead "garage" door like those Mike had seen down below. "We can drive a good-size truck through here and down that ramp behind you all the way to the lowest level when we need to bring in the big guns." "I see whay you mean about the camouflage," Mike looked about at the dense landscaping and tall palms shading the above-ground entrance to the subterranean complex. "You know what?" "I'm afraid to ask," Hanson smiled apprehensively. "Instead of fencing all this off, let's make it a recreational area...a park...picnic tables, grills, maybe a spa, horse shoe pit..." "Horse shoe pit?" Hanson looked at him like he'd just devoured a dozen bananas. "From the air...from a satelite, it would look like...well, as you said about fencing it all off, it would look just like what it WAS...or could be...in this case a park...a recreational area for those down below, anyone with a Level Five clearance." Hanson shrugged. "THAT you might be able to sell to your friends in Nassau." "Hey, watch your language, kid," Mike joked. "Those fucksticks in Nassau are no friends of mine, believe me." ------------- Mike and Hanson took the subway back to the office then walked the short distance to their jungle residence. "How come I don't smell dinner?" Mike asked Tony as he and Hanson went inside. "We have a dinner invitation," Tony told them. "Oh? All of us?" Hanson asked in surprise. "Some guy named...Tink? Some guy named Tink called to invite us to a picnic on the beach," Tony explained. "Yeah, and we're late," Kenny informed them impatiently. "Where, which beach?" Hanson questioned the boys. "Cliffside? You know where that is?" Tony asked anxiously. "Yeah, it's one of the...Tinkertoy dorms," Hanson acknowledge. "You boys make anything to take to eat?" Mike questioned. "Yeah, how you like it," Kenny obscenely strutted his upthrust boycock before them. "Cute...come on, I figure Toy has all that covered," Hanson smiled, unable to resist the kid's obnoxious sexiness. "Cart or subway?" Mike asked as they went outside and surveyed the alternatives. "Cart, that way we can go directly to the beach. The closest subway stop is clear up on the hill behind the...farm...excuse me...the 'academy'." "Wheeeeeee!!" Kenny cried as Mike goosed the golf card into high gear--maybe twenty mph. They sped up the coastal cart path, skirting the end of the airport runway, then around an inlet to a broad strip of sand stretching between the cart path and the sea. Towering to the right of the cart path in a palm-strewn, parklike setting was a huge, concrete, glass, and steel, cantilevered structure reminiscent of those Mike had known on Ecstasy. "Looks like the egghead Cox architects have struck again," Mike observed, gaping up at the six-story structure, of which only the top level was habitable. "We refer to it as the hanging gardens," Hanson smiled, "a huge pool on the terrace at the bottom, lots of plant life along the steps going up. The Boys love it." "Cox spends millions to keep their sweet little boys happy but makes their production workers sleep in an underground bunker," Mike shook his head in dispair. "That's gonna change." "DAD! UNCLE TERRY, I didn't know YOU were gonna be here!" Kenny cried hopping from the cart, rushing headlong across the sand to hug the two men." "Acts like he's not seen them in years," Hanson joked as he and Mike followed the two boys toward their fathers. "Terry, Earl, this is our new boss man, Dr. Mike Warren," Hanson introduced them. "You two don't look old enough to have two horny little pups like..." Mike began as they shook hands. "I'm thirty, he's twenty-eight," Terry, enjoyed the compliment. "We got into a pack of bad condums," Earl explained. "We considered calling them 'Accident' and Incident'." "Who's minding the store at...Bristol Island International?" Hanson asked, once more feeling his cock rise to greet the two exceptionally attractive young accidental fathers. "We have a radar and communications tie-in to the guys at Cox Pharm," Earl explained. "They'll page us if we're needed. "You have two very...you mind if I use the word...beautiful? Beautiful young sons," Mike eyed the two boys, now playing volleyball with some of Tink's toddlers. "I hope they didn't suck you dry," Terry smiled. "Ohhhh, god, damned near," Mike rolled his eyes. "You two have a couple EXTREMELY talented young boys there." "We're rather talented ourselves," Earl winked, striking an obscenely seductive pose. "There's a beach bed over there, we could..." "Time to eat!" They heard Toy call from the small dining tent the boys had pitched on the beach. "Damn..." Terry shook his head in disappointment. "You hungrier than you are horny?" Hanson flirted outrageously with Earl. "By the time the boys get done stuffing themselves, we could...stuff ourselves in the meantime," Earl slipped his arm around Hanson's naked waist. "You two take the bed, we'll eat, then trade off," Terry suggested. "Just hold it, don't let any of these little horn dogs have it." "Eat fast, I feel an orgasm coming on already," Earl told his brother as he and Hanson made a beeline toward the canvas, hammock-like beach bed.