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Gene Therapy - Dose 01

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Most of the stories around here start off with a certain disclaimer, about how the characters are fictional. "Any resemblance to persons real or fictional", you know how it goes. I can't do that here. What I can do is state that all the people in this story have had their names changed, along with all the locations. This story is mostly true, it would be far too dull to read if I left it at the whole truth. I've glossed over boring parts, sped some events up, added some embellishment, and left out a lot I thought was too embarrassing to include even in an anonymous story. Of course, this is all based on my memories, so it's likely I've forgotten or misremembered things. I doubt it will affect the story.

You may be wondering, 'if this is a serious story, or even partially true, why post it in a place like this?' The answer is simple. Nobody will take it seriously. I don't want to be discovered or exposed. I keep my secrets, but I can safely vent here. So what is this? I'd call it a memoir, but you probably won't see it that way. I want to express in words what I've experienced, and what I've become. It doesn't really matter if you believe me, that isn't really the point. If you enjoy this work, it has served both our purposes.

This is only the beginning of my story, it's been years since the events that happened here. Because it's the first, there's a good amount of information that explains the background and setting. My career, the accident, the changes to my body, and eventually to my life. Later releases won't have to include all this, and can focus more on the story rather than setting it up. While I'd certainly like you to read the whole thing, I understand if you're anxious to skip to the more erotic portion. I've broken things down into subchapters--I've called them "logs"--to divide the story somewhat. Most of the action is in log 04, and will probably be a bit strange, but is readable by itself. The overall story won't make sense though, of course.

Log 01 - The Background

In my past life, I was a molecular geneticist at my state university. I had recently been tenured, after years spent on the tenure track. I was focusing more on research, and had a lab mostly to myself. The wounds from my divorce were healing, and I was finally starting to enjoy being single again. We had never had children, though I had wanted to, so there was little to keep me from enjoying bachelorhood. I wasn't a handsome ladies' man, but I did okay for someone in their 30s. I had kept myself in shape, particularly after the divorce. Regular cardio, and some basic calisthenics kept me relatively lean without appearing scrawny. I had a good life, but for the most part I don't regret leaving it behind.

It may be useful to explain the basics of my work, and the time I was doing it. I was researching genetic modification of living organisms, commonly called gene therapy. I won't bore you, if you want to know more you can always visit Wikipedia. You take a virus, and use it to alter the genes in target cells. The idea is usually to fix some genetic defect, curing a disease or reducing the severity of a disability. Back then, the possibilities seemed endless. Gene sequencing was finally fast and cost effective enough to make real progress possible. There were even a couple limited human trials.

My story takes place before the death of one clinical trial subject brought it all to a screeching halt. It wasn't a trial I had anything to do with, it happened some time after this story. You see, in complicated machines like human beings, one small change can have unintended consequences. Many years after the start of this story the field has recovered; there is astounding progress in human trials. There's even new technology called CRISPR that has revolutionized the field. In my case though, I was working when the field was still flush with grant money in the old paradigm.

I wasn't working on a specific gene or vector, that takes too long. You have many kettles on the stove at once in my field. You create new gene sequences, then you have to duplicate them, there's preparing the virus you're using for insertion, and tests on cell cultures, living subjects (usually mice), and finally tests on human cell cultures. So there's usually a lot of different things going on. You try several variations on one sequence, and take the one that works best, make more changes, rinse and repeat as you work your way towards something promising to test on mice or expensive cell cultures and primates.

A major focus of my work was reproduction. It's why my memoir is on this sort of website instead of a general fiction website. As for why I was working on reproduction, well, the answer is simple: money. A wealthy individual or nonprofit donates money in the form of grants toward a certain field or topic. When it comes to genetics, it's usually someone with a condition or disorder hoping to fund research that will help cure it. Where money is concerned, reproduction is pretty big. Just look at trend in pharmaceutical funding for more drugs like Viagra. That's where I was, happily plugging along, testing different variations to see what effects they may have, potentially finding one that may treat one of any number of conditions.

A funny thing about the work, is that a lot of what we'd consider failures, actually have pretty amazing effects. Particularly when looking at later-stage sequences. A modification that causes a female mouse to ovulate once a day like a metronome, or a male mouse to produce quantities of spermatozoa so prodigious its testicles had to quadruple in size to produce it, are both failures. While I'm certain there are individuals out there who would love those particular effects, it just doesn't make the cut as a legitimate medical treatment.

I hope that sheds some light into the environment I worked in. We were still too excited by the possibilities to worry about the possible repercussions. It was throwing things at the wall and finding what sticks. There was a lot of material there that was more dangerous than we gave it credit for. We were working with material that could result in lifelong changes, disability, or death, but we still mostly operated like a standard lab. In most labs if you make a mistake there may be poisoning, skin burns, or a number of other injuries. All very serious, but for the most part it's over after it happens; you heal and move on. We were dealing with engineered viral cultures designed to alter DNA, not something you fix with a trip to the hospital.

Log 02: The Accident

One of my graduate students at the time, was a sweet girl we'll call Alice. She was driven by a passion to help people, and had a somewhat innocent naivete about the world. While her mind didn't give me much hope that she'd become prominent in the field, she was by no means dull. I figured her drive would give her the tenacity to keep pushing forward past failures, and she could be a great partner for a colleague more gifted in theory.

She also had astoundingly good looks. Definitely the most attractive woman in our department, though I suppose that doesn't really say much. Still, she was gorgeous, with a sweet face that seemed to radiate kindness, and a body that was delightfully curvy in all the right places. It was the kind of figure that still stood out even when it was covered by a featureless lab coat. I wasn't an idiot, I wasn't trying to screw her. Despite what happens in pornos, it really is dangerous for your career. Still, she was by far the most tempting student I'd ever worked with.

She wouldn't have been important to my story, except that without her there wouldn't have been a story. She caused the accident. It was a hell of an accident. A complete fuckup that should never have happened. A little inattention, a little carelessness, with me being in the wrong place at the wrong time for spice. The details don't matter, except to say that I was basically injected with several prepared doses of different viruses intended for the primate lab. She was supposed to be preparing syringes of our best-performing sequences for trials in laboratory monkeys. She had prepared and labeled the syringes, and just needed to cap them and put them in the fridge. Instead of capping them individually, she flipped the syringe holder upside down so she could cap them all in a riskier but much quicker fashion.

It's time consuming to prepare the active viruses; host cells are infected with a precursor virus that forces them to create new viruses that will inject only the desired gene sequences. Unlike normal viruses that force the host cell to create more of itself, these don't harm their target cells; they just inject the new genetic material. When the host cells infected with the precursor have all died producing a prodigious amount of our gene therapy virus, the dead cells and detritus are filtered away. It's a time consuming process, so we usually prepare a large batch rather than needing to create a new batch for each round of testing. Alice had just finished preparing a whole series of large doses for primate trial by drawing from the stored samples.

A lot of time and money is required to get to this point, not to mention the endless series of trials each sequence goes through, so I would have been pissed if she had simply ruined the doses and delayed everything. Instead, she tripped, slamming into me and knocking me over. I still don't know why she decided to move a syringe rack full of syringes with exposed needles. She should have just went and got the caps and brought them back instead of moving the syringes. It was a mess of broken glass, and more than a dozen puncture wounds on my backside. Worse was that because she was so shocked and apologetic, she pulled the needles out, trying to clean me up. I didn't know which trials I was injected with, or how much. There was probably a dozen different gene sequences inside the viruses ready to inject them, now inside my body.

At this point I was far too shocked to be scared, the gravity of the situation hadn't sunk in yet. Instead of freaking out and rushing to a hospital, I was more concerned with my career and potential paperwork. The viruses were intended eventually for humans, and would be able to target my cells; but there was no guarantee that they'd have much of an effect in me. I figured that even though the viruses are designed to be unobtrusive and not provoke much of an immune response, being injected with so much at once would definitely cause my immune system to respond. I was expecting some nasty flu-like symptoms for a few days, followed by monitoring myself for any problems. Because the injection was into muscle tissue, I figured most of the viruses would be killed before they reached their target cells. Some cells might be changed, but most would remain fine.

I was wrong. I didn't consider that each dose has an included immunosuppressive drug to help protect the virus, and that I had just received a massive dose. If it hadn't been into muscle tissue, it probably would have crashed my immune system. I also didn't consider that the injection point would cause both the drug and viruses to be slowly released, rather than flooding into my bloodstream. It's the same reason they use muscle tissue to inject antibiotics or other long-release drugs. In some ways, it's actually a very effective delivery method for gene therapy; it's in use today, though in considerably different applications.

Log 03: The Change

It was Wednesday afternoon. I decided to take Thursday and Friday off, relax for the weekend, and decide what to do before coming back. I'd put off the paperwork, and if it wasn't too bad I could downplay the whole thing. We cleaned up the mess, and I headed home. Alice was still scared and apologetic, I told her to come to my place to check up on me, and that everything would be okay. She didn't live too far away from my apartment, and readily agreed. I just thought it'd be safer to have someone check up on me each evening.

I was tired when I got home. I ate the takeout I bought on the drive, and drank a beer to help me get to sleep. I thought I'd be stuck awake worrying, but it turns out I didn't need the beer, I fell asleep in my recliner before even going to bed. I finally awoke the next day when my bladder decided it couldn't take any more. I struggled to the bathroom feeling like I was holding back Hoover Dam single-handedly. By the time I was standing in front of the porcelain, I realized that my morning wood wasn't going to let me go without a serious mess.

I didn't want to risk waiting, so I stripped out of yesterday's clothes and got into the shower. I turned on the water, and relieved myself while waiting for it to heat up. It took a long time, my bladder was very full, and my erection was raging. I remember thinking that it had been awhile since I had such a powerful erection. The thought didn't last long though, as the immediacy of needing to piss was replaced by what I can only describe as super-blue-balls. It's not a good technical description, but I think it conveys the discomfort far better than a medical term would.

I was still very tired, I didn't feel like I had much energy, but I was thankful I didn't seem to have any other cold symptoms at the moment. I took my shower, trying to keep my mind off my blue-balls, and was rewarded with the erection having eased by the time I finished. It hadn't completely vanished, but was no longer stiff. I dried off, wincing a bit as I dried between my legs. I was starving, so I headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat. When I saw the clock, I realized why i was so hungry; it was nearly 3 in the afternoon. I had slept almost 20 hours.

Despite all the sleep, I still felt pretty tired; I was sleepy and fatigued like I'd had a long day of physical activity behind me. In retrospect, I was pretty out of it. I probably should have been more concerned about what was going on with me, but I seemed fairly confident at the time that I was okay. I made a bunch of sandwiches and reheated some leftover mixed vegetables. I felt very hungry, and made far more than I'd normally eat. I figured I'd probably end up wrapping up the extra sandwiches for later, but it turned out that I didn't need to. I relaxed in the living room and watched some TV I had recorded on my DVR. I ended up eating everything, even going back for some snacks over the course of the next couple hours.

Alice stopped by at about 5:30 on her way home. She had on her plain lab clothes; they're better for staying comfortable in a cold lab than looking attractive. I invited her inside, and offered her something to drink in the kitchen. It wasn't the first time she'd stopped by my place, but it definitely wasn't a usual occurrence. I assured her that despite being sloppily dressed in some old sweatpants and a t-shirt I was feeling fine. We discussed some mundane office details, but I noticed that I was a lot more distracted by her than usual. Even with the plain clothes, she seemed very attractive. I realized that I was starting to get hard, that erection from earlier starting to take life. With no underwear and only sweatpants on, I realized that it wouldn't take long for her to notice. On the bright side, it was a lot more comfortable. I sat down at the table and invited her to join me, but she said she had some errands to run.

She told me to get some rest, and let herself out. I could tell she was still feeling guilty and nervous about the accident. I didn't really let it bother me, after stuffing myself with food I felt even more tired. I checked that the door was closed and locked, and went back to the living room. By then, my dick had completely engorged; it felt good but also powerful, it was an oddly happy feeling. Pulling out the waistband on my sweats and taking a look, it seemed almost strained, maybe a tiny bit larger than normal. It wasn't so different as to give me pause, and my thoughts drifted back to Alice. I opened up the footrest and sat back in my recliner. I was considering jerking off, but drifted to sleep before I started; I was sleepier than I realized.

The next 24 hours were mostly spent sleeping. I occasionally woke up to go to the bathroom, the process always complicated by an erection. A few times I threw together a bunch of food and wolfed it down before going back to sleep. The blue ball sensation never went away, and even though my balls seemed to be swollen, the discomfort eased somewhat. Whether it was actually feeling better, or I was just becoming accustomed to it, I didn't know. I did know that I seemed to be getting a bunch of short term hard-ons, during the 30 minutes it took to grab food and eat I had numerous erections. Each time subsiding just enough to start getting a new erection. It was sore from all the activity, but I figured as long as it wasn't staying hard there wasn't any danger. It was like puberty on overdrive, and for some reason I felt pretty happy about it despite the discomfort.

Friday afternoon when I woke to go to the bathroom I realized that Alice would likely be stopping by soon. I had stopped wearing the sweatpants, as they just got in the way of my cock's seemingly endless sit-ups. I went to get another pair, but stopped before putting them on, realizing that I should probably take a shower. I shaved and brushed my teeth, then hopped in the shower. After I washed my hair and started on my body, I had yet another of the endless erections. Slightly more alert under the running water, I took my time and examined myself. I hadn't noticed it before due to being so groggy, but my dick had definitely gotten bigger. Before I was pretty much average, about 6 inches long and 1.5 wide. Now I had gained nearly an inch in length, and more than half an inch in girth. That was probably the discomfort I had been feeling. There was definitely some worry creeping into my foggy thoughts, this wasn't something that should happen. Who doesn't want a bigger dick though? Despite the very real danger this development represented, It was overshadowed by the fact I liked it. Sure, it shouldn't happen, but it was kind of awesome. I moved on to examining my scrotum and testicles, curious about what was going on there. My testicles had become massive! It wasn't simple swelling, the testicles themselves had nearly doubled in size. The epididymis (the coil of tubes attached to each testicle that stores sperm before it moves to the vas deferens) was now a noticeable mass atop each testicle with more texture, probably more than twice the previous size. The discomfort was still there, but seemed to be a bit different. Partly the blue balls sensation I was used to, and partly some discomfort in the skin of my scrotum. It seemed that the skin was going to take longer to accommodate the changes.

My examination, though not meant to be sensual, had kept my cock rock-hard the entire time instead of subsiding as usual. The whole region seemed more sensitive than before, making it a not-unpleasant experience. Now that I had been standing mostly out of the water for a couple minutes, I noticed that precum was oozing out of my head. Not the small amount that normally happens after a good deal of arousal, this was a slow but steady ooze. I got back under the water and grabbed the soap to finish washing up. When I started washing my dick, still fully engorged, I shuddered with pleasure and almost slipped. It definitely was more sensitive! I went with it, and a few strokes later had an amazing orgasm, definitely the best in several years. It seemed to go on forever, as each surge shot out another stream of cum. I had never came that much, and in the afterglow i was giddy with appreciation at my new vitality. It was thick, and stuck to the tiles. It was probably a couple ounces, though I didn't pay much attention to it.

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