Packing Clarissa's Genes

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Chapter Two

The first thing Clarissa noticed about the changes in her body was when she got out of the shower one day and was drying off. It was about two weeks after her first four doses of what she didn't know was RD684, and she'd had twenty more doses since then. As she ran the towel across her chest she felt distinct tingles of pleasure. She was thinking about something else at the time, but the feeling caught her attention and she looked down at her flat chest only to find wasn't flat any more.

She stared at the modest swells, and then looked in the mirror to see if they were still there. They were. Not only that, they had defined nipples on them now.

Unbelieving, she pushed at the humps. They moved and then settled back into position, firm and hard. She stared and then rose to her toes, jumping several times, just far enough to get her toes off the floor. Her breasts jiggled and shook, and her jaw dropped.

The next thing she noticed was a week later, when she was running laps during PE and realized things were shaking around inside her shirt. She'd never worn a bra in her life, with the possible exception of the one that went with her bikini. Now, as she looked down at her chest, it looked like there were kittens or something under there, trying to get out. She was almost embarrassed at the feel of her now sensitive nipples scraping back and forth against the fabric, and how much energy that seemed to create inside her. She almost took an extra lap, but she needed to get to her next class.

Then, when she was getting dressed in the locker room, she had to actually tug to get her jeans up around her waist. She looked down to see that the normally loose fit was gone. The cloth was tight against the sides of her hips. Again, she was astonished. She turned and looked in the mirror. She had a butt!

She examined herself in the mirror that night. It was obvious her breasts were growing. They had doubled in size just since she'd first noticed she had any at all.

Then one day, at school, Tommy Jenkins said "Hey, Clarissa" and smiled at her as they passed each other in the hallway. She almost ran into a locker turning to see if he'd really spoken to her or not, and saw him looking back over his shoulder at her...SMILING! Tommy Jenkins had never said a WORD to her before, and they'd been in the same class for years!

She thought about Tommy at home that night, as she sat, ignoring her homework on the table in front of her. Finally she leaned forward to begin writing in her workbook and...her breasts pressed into the table.

It was too much. She got up and went to the bathroom. She was wearing one of Uncle Bob's old checkered shirts that she'd stolen from him years ago. It was soft and light and served as a kind of nightgown when she first took it. She looked in the mirror and goggled as she saw that, between two buttons, the material was stretched open enough that she could see skin through the gap.

She turned sideways. Her breasts now pushed the shirt out...significantly! It almost scared her, and when she heard Matt come crashing into the house she went to get him immediately. She found him coming from the kitchen, where he'd made himself a peanut butter sandwich.

"Matt!" she said.

He looked over his shoulder.

"Do I look different?" she asked, her voice tense.

"Different how?" he asked.

She blushed. She wasn't about to ask her little brother if she had tits or not.

"Just different," she insisted. "Do I look different than usual?"

Matt knew his sister well, and he heard something in her voice that sounded a little like fear. He took a bite of his sandwich and turned around to look at her.

"I don't know," he said with his mouth full. "You do something to your hair?"

"My hair!?"

That was obviously not the answer she was looking for. Even Matt could tell. But the fact was that her hair DID look different.

"Yeah," he said, taking a step closer. "It's kind of golden now, and it looks shiny. Did you dye it?"

"NO I DIDN'T DYE IT!" she yipped.

"Well don't yell at me!" he complained. "I'm just telling you what I see!"

Frustrated, she turned sideways to him.

"Look lower!" she snapped.

She watched his eyes drop past her chest and then jerk back up. She watched them widen as he saw the objects of her concern. Then she saw his face get red and his eyes jerk back up to her face.

"What?" he asked weakly.

"Don't even try it," she said. "You saw them."

"Them?" His eyes were everywhere except on her face now.

"My BREASTS!" she shouted. "You looked right at them!"

"You TOLD me to!" he yelped.

She realized, at that instant, that he was embarrassed. That seemed completely foreign to her. They'd seen each other naked all their lives. They'd both swum topless in the pool in the back yard until both were twelve and then the only reason she'd put a top on was because Uncle Bob had made her. And, in the same instant she realized he was embarrassed, she felt the thrill, for the first time in her life, of a male looking at her as a female...and not just plain old Clarissa.

"I'm not mad at you," she said softly.

His eyes fluttered back to her face, and then down again and then back up.

"They've grown," she said.

"You can say that again," he said softly. "When? I can't believe I didn't notice them before this!"

"It's like they're growing every day or something," she said, exasperatedly. "It started a month ago and I SWEAR they get bigger each day! I'm scared, Matt!"

He looked at her like she was crazy.

"Scared? Why in the world would you be scared?"

"Where did they come from?" she wailed.

For the first time he looked more comfortable.

"For somebody with an IQ of a hundred and forty you sure can be dumb sometimes," he said, grinning. "You're a girl, dummy."

"Girls tits don't grow two inches a week!" moaned Clarissa.

"They're not tits," said Matt, looking down his nose at her. "As you WELL know, they're breasts!"

"And look at my butt!" whined Clarissa, turning around. She stuck her bottom out, still encased in jeans that were now skin tight.

"Don't mind if I do," sighed Matt, no longer afraid he was going to get hit for staring at the parts of a girl you got hit for staring at.

"This is serious!" she moaned. "What am I going to do?"

"What do you mean what are you going to do?" asked her brother. "You've been complaining that you're flat-chested for years. Isn't this what you wanted?"

She blinked. "Well yeah...I guess...except that it's happening so FAST. Something has to be wrong with me!"

"There's nothing wrong with you that I can see," he sighed as she turned around and he got to look at her breasts again. He saw the buds of her nipples pushing through the shirt, and then saw the same thing she'd the gaping cloth between two buttons. Almost involuntarily he reached and pushed his index finger through the gap until it touched the bare skin between her breasts.

"Wow," he said softly. "You've been wearing that shirt for years, and it never did this."

Clarissa looked down as he touched her. He'd touched her hundreds of times...THOUSANDS of times. Why, then, did it feel so different when he touched her now? Her nipples tingled, and she stepped back.

"Don't tell Uncle Bob," she said.

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Because he'll take me to the doctor. You know how much I hate going to the doctor."

"Rissa, there is no WAY he's not going to notice. I can't believe I didn't notice it until you showed me. I've actually got tits!"

She slapped his shoulder. "Breasts!"

"Can I see them?" he asked suddenly.


"You know...without the shirt?"

"Are you insane!" she squealed. "I'm your sister!"


"I cannot believe you said that," she said, sounding disgusted.

"Come on, Rissa," he complained. "I'm dying to see some, and you and I both know that's never going to happen."

"What happened to your stupid Playboy?" she asked without thinking.

A wary look came into his eyes. "How do you know about that?" he asked.

Now it was Clarissa who looked everywhere but at his face.

"I don't know. I saw it in your room one day, I guess."

"No you didn't," he said, flushing.

"How do you know?" she asked, almost angrily.

"Because the only time it wasn't under my bed was when I was using it to ..." His mouth closed suddenly.

"To what?" she said, looking at his face. It was red.

"Never mind!" he snapped. "You were snooping around in my room, weren't you!"

"OK, OK, so I snooped a couple of times," she said. "There's nothing ELSE to do around here." She cocked her head at him. "What happened to it anyway?"


"You kept it under your mattress for months, and then it just disappeared. What happened to it?"

"You snooped in my room for MONTHS?!" he said angrily.

"We already got past that," she said calmly. "What happened to it?"

Matt looked down at the floor. "I took it to school to show Rodney and Miss Johnston caught us with it. She took it." He flushed a deeper shade of red. "She said she'd give it to Uncle Bob if he came to claim it."

"Like he'd do that," laughed Clarissa. "He'd probably tan your hide for having it in the first place."

"No he wouldn't," muttered Matt. "He's the one who gave it to me."

Clarissa's eyes got huge. "You liar!" she squeaked.

"No I'm NOT!" he yelled. "He understands!"

"Understands what?" she asked.

Matt was the one who was back to looking all over the place.

"You know...about guy stuff."

"What guy stuff?" she asked.

"I'm hungry," he said. He'd forgotten completely about the half eaten peanut butter sandwich in his left hand. "Isn't this your week for supper?"

"No, it's yours," she said. "What guy stuff?"

"I have to fix supper!" he said. He turned to go back into the kitchen.

Clarissa was on him in a flash. This wasn't unusual. They were about the same height and, for as long as either of them could remember, had been about the same weight. They were pretty evenly matched in a wrestling situation and it wasn't unheard of for one of them to try to take the other down to settle some dispute. Usually it ended up in a draw. It didn't this time, though, because suddenly Clarissa had twenty pounds on Matt.

"AWP!" he yelped as he felt himself being driven toward the floor.

He managed to roll and land on his side, but she ended up on top of him and he went on over to his back. Her hands gripped his wrists and her bottom sat squarely on his pelvis as she leaned much of that new weight to pin his hands to the floor beside his shoulders.

"What guy stuff?" she asked, her voice intense.

"What are you doing?" he asked, completely embarrassed that his sister was able to pin him to the floor like this.

"What...guy...stuff...Matt?" she said firmly.

"He knew I needed relief, OK?" said Matt tightly.

"Relief from what?" she asked.

"Oh come ON!" snapped Matt. "You're not that stupid. You just want to hear me say I do it."

Comprehension came to Clarissa as she felt something hard begin to press into her now lush...and more sensitive backside. Her astonishment was a mix of having confirmation of what she had thought Matt had USED that magazine for, the fact that Uncle Bob had ENCOURAGED it...and the sudden wave of something that made her light headed as she felt what was obviously her little brother's ERECTION under her.

As for Matt, the embarrassment he was feeling was a mixture too. But it only had two components: the fact that his sister was forcing him to admit that he beat off...and the fact that he was getting a boner from her doing it. Her soft round butt perched firmly on top of his burgeoning prick didn't help. His eyes fell from her face to the breasts she had so recently brought to his attention. He could see those nipples pressing through the thin cloth of the shirt. That didn't help either.

"I admit it, OK?" he moaned. "I masturbate. Now would you get off me?"

"Wow," she sighed. It was suddenly impossible not to wiggle her butt. As soon as she did so, though, she felt even more light headed, like something inside her was swelling up and threatening to make her head blow up like a balloon.

She had no way of knowing that she was experiencing the side effect of RD684 that her Uncle was, at that precise point in time, just learning about.

Bob ran his hand through his hair and looked at Justine McKinley, one of his research interviewers. He was late leaving from work, but didn't notice it.

"How could we have missed something like this?" he asked.

"We never thought to ask that question," said Justine, shrugging her shoulders. "It was a fluke that it came up at all, the first time."

"Tell me about that," he said, his mind searching for whether this was a good thing, or a bad thing.

"I was interviewing Mrs. Nelson," said Justine. "She was acting like she was uncomfortable, moving around a lot in the chair. I just asked her if everything was OK." She stopped and looked at Bob.

"And?" Bob prodded.

"And she said she was horny!" sighed Justine.

"Just like that," said Bob.

"Just like that," confirmed Justine. "I thought she was just embarrassed about it, so I told her it was fine. But she said she hadn't had any sex drive in over five years...until she entered the trial. She said it took her a while to even understand what she was feeling, but then, when she did...well she said it kept getting stronger and stronger."

"Was she upset?"

"Not exactly," said Justine carefully.

"What does that mean?" asked Bob.

"Well, apparently Mr. Nelson thought this was a good thing...initially."

"Initially," Bob repeated. He was beginning to feel like there was bad news ahead.

"I guess he can' up with her any more."

"Please tell me this is some kind of twisted joke," moaned Bob.

"I can't do that," sighed Justine. "When that happened I started thinking about it. I added a few questions to the survey."

"You can't DO that!" moaned Bob. "That will invalidate the whole study!"

"I didn't change the survey," said Justine. "I just asked the questions verbally, and I did NOT record the answers."

"OK," said Bob carefully. "So?"

"Virtually a hundred percent of the participants expressed either a reawakening or an intensification of sexual desire once they started taking RD684," she said.

Bob heaved a sigh of relief. "Then there's no problem," he said. "If they're all experiencing it, then it can't be the 684, because some of them are getting the placebo."

Justine colored. " another rule," she said softly. "I got Charley to tell me which ones were getting the real stuff and which ones weren't. When I said it was almost a hundred percent...I mean only those who were getting the drug. None of the ones getting the placebo reported this side effect."

Bob groaned. "Just shoot me. The whole fucking study is blown."

"No it's not," Justine insisted. "I was already pretty sure who was getting the drug anyway. And I didn't let that affect how I asked the questions."

"How could you possibly know who was getting 684 and who wasn't?" asked Bob.

"I spend time with them all the time, boss," she said, shrugging. "The 684 is changing their appearance too. They look younger. Their hair is in better shape. Their skin softens. Boss it actually seems to make them younger!"

"That's insane," said Bob. "We can't claim we found the fountain of youth. We'd be laughed out of the business."

"It's not the fountain of youth," said Justine. "But it DOES bring about more youthful appearance, if only because it changes the hormonal balance back to what it was before they entered menopause. It fools the body, Bob. We knew it would do that. That's what it's SUPPOSED to do."

Bob thought for a few minutes and Justine waited patiently. He looked up at her.

"How many did you guess wrong?"

"Two," she said promptly. "Do you want to know who?"

"No!" Bob said forcefully. "It's bad enough that you know and I swear I'll have Charlie's balls for breaking secrecy."

"Don't," said Justine. "When I told him my theory, and what Mrs. Nelson and a few of the others told me, he got all nervous. He said Mrs. Jankowsky came on to him a week ago."

"Mrs. Jankowsky?" Bob was shocked. "She's one of the oldest women in the study!"

"Sixty four, and a widow," said Justine. "She asked him if, after the study was over, it would be inappropriate for him to come see her etchings."

Bob's jaw dropped.

"If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'" said Justine, who couldn't keep a smile off her lips. "That's when he said we had to know. I mean, if the trial ended and we didn't address the possibility that 684 was the cause of could be a problem."

"We'd be in serious trouble," said Bob. "You're right. But I still think this queers the whole study. How are we supposed to bring this into the light, when it wasn't part of the study to begin with?"

"Unexpected side effect," said Justine. "Just came to light. That happens sometimes. We extend the study for another six months, bring that side effect into it and then everything is all on the up and up. We tell the FDA that it's merely a dosage issue. It's not the end of the world for a woman to get horny, Bob."

"The board will squeal about an extension," said Bob.

"Tell them why," said Justine. "It should be obvious to them that we need this covered to cover their asses too. It's not a BAD side effect, but it needs to be covered in the trial."

"We're already behind the power curve," said Bob. "How do I convince them this is a real issue?"

"I didn't put it in the official records yet but I DID keep the data. It would take some time but we could update all the records. If we use the original date of disclosure as a starting point and put the data in as of that date, it will just look like an unexpected side effect. It IS an unexpected side effect! From that point on we include it in the survey openly."

"How much time?" asked Bob.

She shrugged. "With four people...maybe two hours."

"No," said Bob firmly. "The fewer people who know about how this came about the better. Let's keep it to you and Charlie and me."

"Eight hours," she said, her shoulders dropping.

"Pull Charlie into it," said Bob. "That will be his punishment. I'll help. I'll call my kids and tell them they're on their own for a while."

"Got it."

"Damn!" grunted Bob. "Everything was going so well."

"Bob," said Justine patiently. "We have a drug here that relieves some really terrible symptoms of menopause. It makes women feel MUCH better and, as an added benefit, appears to act as an aphrodisiac. This is a gold mine, not a problem. It just has to be handled with kid gloves before it becomes known, that's all."

"I hope you're right," sighed Bob.

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