Allison's Addiction Ch. 01

Just then, it hit me! It wasn't ecstasy, it was modirall! Doctor Khorkina had told me it was a highly experimental drug, and might have side effects! My heightened libido was obviously a side effect! I needed to get home, and away from all visual stimulation. With difficulty, I tore my gaze away from the shapely derrieres in bikini bottoms and began to sprint back home as fast as my feet could carry me.

I made it home in record time, and took the stairs up to my apartment, rather than taking the elevator. Once inside the relative safety of my home, I had no more visual stimulation to provoke my libido, however the damage had already been done. I was feverish with lust, my nipples were hard and erect and my clitoris was throbbing.

I was sweaty and panting. I decided that the best course of action was to relieve my sexual tension by masturbating in the shower. I had to peel my clothes off, as they were soaking wet with perspiration and adhered to my skin. And when I was naked, and I caught a look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I was shocked at what I saw.

My face was flushed and my face and upper body were drenched in sweat. My nipples were more swollen and erect than I had ever seen them before. Their color also looked unnaturally dark and vivid, almost red. My excited breathing had highlighted my strong stomach muscles, and my breasts rose and fell in an almost hypnotic manner as I continued to pant.

Experimentally, I reached for my nipples and brushed my thumbs back and forth across them. It was a gentle motion, but my nipples were so swollen and inflamed that they ached. I gasped at the overpowering sensations caused by such minor physical contact, but I didn't stop manipulating my pink, swollen nubs. On the contrary, I began to slowly, incrementally increase the intensity of my rubbing, causing my nipples to ache all the more.

I let out a long, protracted sigh. The more I abused my poor nipples, the more my sex throbbed with hungry spasms. My nipples still hurt, but it was a dark, delicious, libidinous kind of pain. I savored the pain and made unfamiliar moaning sounds. The sounds coming from my throat sounded foreign and exotic. I had never made sounds like this before.

I continued to perspire, however my sweating had nothing to do with going on a seven-mile run. It was all about a feverish, sexual fire that began in my loins and spread out, claiming my breasts, my nipples, my thighs, my temples, hell, most of my body! I had never known that a sexual heat like this was even possible! I continued to pant as my sex throbbed with hungry spasms, and an agonizing wave of desire passed through me.

"Oh, God," I exclaimed in a passionate, lustful voice I didn't recognize as my own.

Slowly, I allowed my left hand to drift down to the swollen lips of my vulva, while my right hand continued to grasp and rub at one inflamed, swollen nipple.

The lips of my sex were soaking wet and extraordinarily sensitive to the touch. My breathing became ragged and everything below my waist quickened and I felt a wild wave of dark, delicious desire stab through me. This was eroticism on unprecedented level.

I changed my stance and spread my feet further apart, feeling more wanton and libidinous. I was already naked, but I wanted to feel even more exposed. I had the urge to feel raw and unrestrained in my sexuality.

I found my poor, swollen clit and stroked it lightly with my thumb. It was larger than I'd ever seen it before and was terribly sore, and tender to the touch. I inhaled deeply and loudly as I stroked my poor, inflamed clitoris and an unfamiliar, wicked sexual sensation circulated throughout my entire body.

I gasped at the sinful, erotic wave that washed over me, and I panted as I mindlessly rolled my swollen nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and rubbed my aching clitoris, heedless of the pain. The pleasure was painful, but the pain was a dark, sexual thrill. I gasped and moaned and watched myself in the mirror as I writhed in a shameless, obscene manner and rubbed my clit and swollen nether lips even more vigorously, causing more delicious suffering and agonizing delight.

There were tears welling in my eyes, and I gasped and moaned at the sharp, stinging pain, but I was unable to stop tormenting my poor, defenseless, pink pubic lips or my abused, sensitive nipple. An overwhelmingly powerful orgasm had been building up inside of me since Chandler Park, and it just kept gathering more strength as the morning progressed. I couldn't keep the orgasm pent up any longer. It had to release it and let it break across my feverish, naked body.

What was growing inside of me had become a boiling, overwhelming need. My hips squirmed in an extraordinarily indecent manner, and then I pinched my nipple cruelly while vigorously rubbing the inflamed, reddened lips of my pubic slit and then I watched my reflection through heavy-lidded eyes as I shuddered and sobbed and the feverish pleasure of my intense orgasm washed over me, bathing my slender, naked body in a sort of dark, sinful pleasure that I never knew possible before.

My breasts heaved up and down and my abdominal muscles clenched and tensed and my hips spasmed as I gasped and panted and moaned, as the orgasm seemed to rip through me over and over again, and I wondered if the intense sensations would ever stop.

I leaned against the bathroom sink and continued to pant. I was still covered in sweat and my face was wet with tears, and labia and inner thighs were soaked with my sexual juices. Yeah, it seemed to me that somebody had been planning on taking a shower before they got distracted by their own reflection in the mirror. Maybe somebody should step into the shower and cleaned up right now.

In the shower, I ended up cupping my breasts and manipulating my nipples in between my thumbs and index fingers. This new sensitivity I had discovered in my nipples and my clitoris were like a whole new world that I desperately needed to explore again and again.

I ended up fingering myself to two more orgasms while I was in the shower. Three orgasms in one day! That was a record for me! And it wasn't even noon yet!

Still standing in the shower with the spray of water coming down on my naked body, I remembered that I made a promise to Chloe. I had promised her that I would call her right away if I noticed any side effects from the modirall.

Chloe was a good friend, but after much consideration, I decided to break my promise to her. The orgasms that I was experiencing from modirall were mind-blowing and exquisite. They were on a whole new level of sexual pleasure that I had never even suspected was possible! I couldn't take the chance that Chloe might pull the plug on my new favorite thing.

After I got out of the shower, I toweled dry and began to take advantage of all the excess energy my new drug was giving me. I washed all the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, put them away and then began to work on the laundry. Earlier in the week, Chloe had washed, and dried three loads of laundry and brought them upstairs from the laundry room. I took the clean laundry, and proceeded to put it all on hangers, in drawers or on shelves in the linen closet, wherever things were supposed to go.

It wasn't until after I had finished all of these household chores that I realized I probably should have gotten dressed first. Normally people don't go about doing household chores in the nude.

Okay, so this drug gives me lots of energy, hyper-stimulates my libido and seems to make me forget to put clothes on. The first one I decided I could tell Chloe about. Those other two, I decided to try and conceal from her.

I put on a pair of hip-hugger panties, a bra, and then went into my closet and grabbed an old pair of skinny jeans and grey t-shirt that was almost brand new. It had a V-neck, long sleeves and was a cotton/spandex mixed weave, so it clung to my skin almost exactly like a leotard. Years of ballet classes had caused me to develop a fondness for unitards, leotards, tights and similar types of apparel.

Having gotten myself dressed, I took a long look at myself in the mirror and checked myself for any telltale signs that I might have a drug problem. I had stopped panting, I had stopped sweating and my pupils weren't dilated. Okay, I was pretty certain I could pull it off, and convince Chloe that I wasn't experiencing any side effects from taking Modirall.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom and checked for visible signs that might clue my roommate in on the fact I was on a drug-induced high. At first glance, I looked normal.

I leaned in closer, and studied my eyes. They didn't look wild or manic. I pretty much looked like plain old Allison Brand. After three powerful orgasms, I seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Damn! Were other people in the drug trials experiencing the same side-effects I was experiencing? I wish I had the names and phone numbers of the other people in the drug trials. I'd love to talk to them about this.

I padded out into the kitchen and got myself a glass of ice water. The modirall had a way of driving up my body temperature. Ice water would help me cool down somewhat.

I'd never bought stock before, but I was considering buying stock in Brie Incorporated. It was inevitable that somebody would figure out that modirall was a powerful aphrodisiac. When that happened, it was inevitable that they'd market as a sex drug. I could see modirall driving up Brie's stock value by a thousand percent or more.

I went over to my computer to do a search on stock investing, when my phone rang. I picked it up, and glanced at the screen. At first, I was assuming it was Chloe, checking up on me, but it turned out to be Rita Hanson, my agent.

"Hey, Rita," I said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Allison," Rita said, even though it was 12:15 in the afternoon, "I hope I caught you at a good time."

"Yeah, what's up?" I asked her.

"Erotische Dessous needs models to pose for their new online catalog that's coming out this Fall," she told me, "Are you interested?"

I'd modeled for Erotische Dessous before. They paid well, and I had a good working relationship with their photographers, so, of course I said yes.

"They're doing photoshoots all day on Friday, will you be ready to go?"

"Sure," I replied, "Friday sounds fine."

"That's only three days away," Rita advised me, "And this is going to be a lingerie shoot. You'll be practically naked. If you've got an ounce of flab or fat anywhere on your body, you won't be able to hide it underneath your clothes."

"Thanks for the advice, Rita," I said, "But I've got it covered. Every inch of my body is toned and firm."

"I'm glad to hear it," Rita replied, and then she gave me a time and address to show up on Friday. I wrote it all down, and recognized the address. It was a photography studio near Augustus Beach. I'd been there for photoshoots before. There were two photographers that worked out of that studio, and I knew them both.

"Friday morning, nine o'clock," I confirmed with Rita, and I assured her I would be there.

I had told Rita a little white lie. After then days of chronic fatigue and lying on the couch, I wasn't quite as toned and taut as I used to be. I needed to spend the next three days toning up my abs and my glutes if I wanted to look my best. Rita was right about not being able to hide any minor physical flaws in a Erotische Dessous photoshoot. They hired models like me to pose in thongs, G-strings, V-strings and cheeky panties. If I had any flab or cellulite, there'd be no place to hide it.

"Three days," I assured myself, after I finished my phone call with Rita, "I've got time."

First, I went on the Internet and created an online trading account. Once I finished that, I went searching for Brie Incorporated stock to see how much it was selling for. Their stock price was currently at $22.71 per share. I put in an order to buy ten shares when the price dropped to $20.00.

I knew nothing about buying stocks, but I felt like I had just made a smart move. A drop of $2.71 wasn't much, and if Modirall ever got marketed by Brie Incorporated as a sex drug, I was pretty sure their stock value would go up like a rocket.

Okay, I got the ball rolling on investing in pharmaceutical stocks, next I needed to do something about preparing for my lingerie photoshoot.

I woman doesn't lose a lot of muscle tone from ten days of inactivity, but any physical imperfections a woman has would be magnified under the bright lights of a photography studio, especially if that woman is wearing nothing but a pushup bra and a lacy V-string panty.

I got an exercise mat out of the closet and stripped out of my jeans and my shirt. I laid the mat down on the floor and began to do some floor exercises.

I did one-hundred hip thrusts, then one-hundred knee tucks, then fifty side crunches on my right side and another fifty side crunches on my left side.

I took a short break, got some water to rehydrate, and then went back to work.

I grabbed a bench and some hand weights, and then I started doing Bulgarian split-squats. These are really great for toning the thighs, the calves and the glutes. After I had done a hundred of these, I set the weights and the bench aside and went back to doing hip thrusts again.

The modirall was giving me tons of endurance and endless energy. My muscles were unaccustomed to all this demanding activity after I had spent almost two weeks lying on the couch, but my cardiovascular endurance was at an all-time high! This modirall was great stuff for athletic training! I had no desire to stop my exercise routine, or even slow down!

I got into a rhythm, working my abs, my calves, my glutes, my obliques and my thighs, and just enthusiastically kept things going. I'd occasionally take a short break to get some bottled water, but then I'd get right back into my exercise routine again. I was so deeply into the zone that I lost all track of time.

At one point I was lying on my exercise mat, doing hips thrusts, when the front door of my apartment opened. The door had been locked, so whoever was tampering with the front door must have obtained a key to my apartment somehow. I froze in mid-thrust and focused on the space between the door and the doorjamb, to see who the intruder was that was about to enter my home unannounced.

"Chloe?" I said, when I saw my roommate take a few steps forward into the apartment, "What are you doing home so early?"

"This is the same time I normally get home," Chloe insisted, "What are you doing?"

"I'm toning my glutes and my abs," I replied, "I've got a photoshoot Friday."

Chloe raised an eyebrow and replied, "I was expecting to find you asleep on the couch, but you're doing floor exercises instead?"

"The modirall kicked in," I answered, "Apparently it does everything I'd hoped it would."

Chloe set down her purse and several bags, and then took a few steps closer. Her eyes got wider as she got closer, and then I finally got up off the floor.

"I'm fine, I'm totally fine," I protested before Chloe had a chance to say anything. I was sounding defensive, but only because I was being defensive. I had given Chloe the authority to take my drugs away, but I didn't want her to exercise that authority.

Chloe examined me intently, and I did my best not to look or act like a drug addict. I'm guessing that I did a good job, because Chloe finally relaxed and said, "I brought home Greek lemon chicken for dinner, but you need to take a shower before you can eat. You're all sweaty, and I don't want you sitting on the couch until you're all cleaned up."

Chloe didn't need to tell me twice. I was just glad to have passed inspection, so I padded barefoot towards the bathroom, intending to take my third shower of the day, and I heard Chloe's voice calling out to me, "And put some clothes on before you come back out! It's really distracting when you walk around almost-naked like that!"

I nodded in agreement, even though Chloe couldn't see me. Chloe was a lesbian, and she had broken up with her last girlfriend back in April...or possibly May. I forget. The point is, she hadn't had a valid outlet for her sexual needs in months, and I was a very attractive woman.

Parading around in front of her in nothing but a bra and hip-hugger panties really was a major distraction. I'd have to put on something less revealing when I got out of the shower. Otherwise it would just be a cruel tease, showing off the goods that Chloe could never have.

I finished my shower hastily, dried off and hunted up some clothes from my bedroom. I ended up choosing a soft, comfy pair of pajama pants and a short-sleeved t-shirt. When I returned to the living room, I was no longer sweaty and I was decently covered up.

"Hey, did you wash all the dirty dishes while I was at work?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," I replied as I came closer and scanned the room for the food. I knew it was nearby. I could smell the yummy aroma as I walked into the room.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Allison?" Chloe asked, "The Allison I know would never wash dirty dishes without me having to nag her first."

I shrugged my shoulders and gave Chloe an ambivalent look.

"The modirall gives me lots of energy," I explained, "When I'm on it, I can't stand sitting around, idle. I have to be up and active, and doing stuff. Is that so bad?"

Chloe just gave me an amused look and said, "Are you kidding? I wish your doctor put you on modirall years ago."

I found the Greek lemon chicken as served up one plate for me and one plate for Chloe. My stomach growled indignantly at me, and I realized I hadn't had anything to eat all day long. Seriously, I had forgotten to eat. Who does that? Apparently, the drug had made me focus so intently on accomplishing physical tasks like jogging, split-squats, hip thrusts and washing dishes, that I totally forgot to take time to deal with important daily rituals like breakfast and lunch.

This drug was kind of tricky. I was going to have to be more careful in the days to come. I didn't want to end up suffering from malnutrition because I forgot to eat.

* * * * *

"Allison, where are your clothes?" an admonishing voice asked. It was a powerful voice that carried across the room and echoed off the walls. It was a voice that demanded your attention, no matter what.

With a quick glance down, I realized that I was naked and barefoot. Ordinarily, when I showed up for a ballet class, I showed up wearing a black leotard and pointe shoes. If the studio was too cold when I arrived, I'd add leg-warmers to my ensemble, however, for reasons I couldn't recall, I had arrived for ballet class without any clothing whatsoever. What had I been thinking?

"I must have left them in my locker, ma'am," I replied timidly, and then I looked up and saw the face of the woman with the powerful voice.

It was Terpsichore, goddess of dance and choreography. I remember years ago one of my dance instructors had a poster of her up on the wall of her studio. I was told that whenever dancers performed on stage, Terpsichore would be there in spirit, observing the dancers and judging their performance, but nobody ever warned me that she might show up in a dance studio when I was doing stretching exercises at the barre!

"None of the other students left their clothes in the locker room," Terpsichore said reprovingly, "Perhaps you think that you are somehow better than the other students, perhaps you feel that you're not required to act in accordance with dress code, even though all of your fellow students showed up in the requisite leotards, unitards and spandex tights."

I opened my mouth to apologize, however my vocal cords no longer seemed to work. My vocal cords felt thick and swollen, and my capabilities of speech just seemed to abandon me. Unable to apologize, I used my hands to cover up my bare breasts and my pubic lips. I hoped that such a gesture would be interpreted by the goddess as being contrite and repentant.