Dexter’s Laboratory Porn Story: Chemical Bonding – Chapter 6

CHEMICAL BONDING VI

By Lennon Karma, who knows almost exactly what she’s doing

“You say yes, I say no, you say stop, and I say go go go!” I luv dat song. Woo hoo hoo. I was dancing to it, but then I remembered I should work on da story. Uh, but anyway, I still don’t own any of da people, I’m trying really hard to make this good, pleez r & r, and5I guess that’s it. Now for da fic! J
J
J

Chapter 6:

Atomic Fusion

CEO found his neighborhood to appear just as he remembered it: incompetent, inferior. He looked out Mandark’s bedroom window, seeing nothing more than a typical suburb. Quickly adjusting to his new age, CEO left Mandark’s room, and came face to face with Wind Bear and Ocean Bird. His foggy mind cleared up, and he remembered them to be his parents. How long had it been since he had last seen them? Not long enough, he told himself. CEO knew that that was a definite advantage to living in his own time: their beaming faces no longer penetrating the shield of his dark world.

He tried to creep past them along the wall, but Wind Bear put a hand on CEO’s shoulder. “Come downstairs for breakfast, Susan.” CEO was in no mood for breakfast; he had other things on his mind. In his best attempt to sound respectful, he answered, “No thank you, Father. I have some5homework to finish.” Ocean Bird raised a suspicious eyebrow, for Susan rarely had homework, and when he did, he would never wait until Sunday to do it. Yet, she never could tell exactly what Susan was thinking, so rather than argue with him, she let Wind Bear take care of it. “All right, Susan,” he said. Just make sure you are down in time for the morning chant ritual.” His parents went downstairs for breakfast, leaving Mandark alone at the top of the stairs. Leering down the stairs after them, he was grateful that his days of enduring them were over, as well as delighted at their stepping out of his life5

He creaked open the door, masking his eyes from the sun’s radiance. The thought f his grinning parents returned to CEO’s mind, and he quickly tried to erase the memory. He wanted to be veiled by the darkness he knew so well. Rather than waste a today outside fighting the light, CEO decided to see what actually went through his head in his younger years. What made him such a straight arrow, a creature of the light? He could actually remember very little before his reign over the corporation began.

His code to enter the lab had remained unchanged from the one he remembered, so he re entered it with the ease he always had. CEO found himself now caped and surrounded by spires drenched in red light. How primitive it all seemed to him now; all the “creations” here were nothing but child’s play, the tinkering of his youth. Thinking back to his own time, he preferred the use for this space he had come up with: his self-made hell on earth, the Hall of Damnation. CEO’s employees, Dexter more than any other, spent a lot of time there. Next to his capture of the neuroatomic protocore, this was one of his proudest achievements.

The flogging Dexter received the night before was certainly CEO’s best memory there. What he couldn’t get his mind around was Mandark’s stubbornness. They were the same Mandark, just from different spans of life. If they shared the desire for technology, an enemy, and a mortal body, why were they so vastly different? Without having gone far into the lab, he found the answer, lying in plain sight on the computer desk.

A heart-shaped cut out of Dexter lay on the table next to the monitor. CEO picked it up, realizing that this made all the difference. Now it made sense; it wasn’t the workers in general Mandark was worried about. He was solely interested in Dexter. CEO could remember this. Although he was nearly 30, much older than Mandark, he still possessed the miserly, restless motion in the eyes. He was sure that he knew where his disposition took a turn for the worse, sending him turning through the years5

When he became an employee here at age 21, for the most part, he had been unsuccessful in garnering Dexter’s attention. Being hired here, he told himself, would win Dexter’s heart. Only his best work would do, and he was somehow sure that his discoveries could bring them together. Still, Dexter barely noticed his existence, much like when they were together in middle school. Dexter and Douglas were always in their own little world. Even after all these years, CEO could not bear to look Douglas in the eye. It was too distressing a memory; he would rather be whipped than have to face Douglas again. It was almost as unbearable to see Dexter and Douglas together.

Rather than remain at their lowly level, which he far surpassed, Mandark made up his mind to rise up from the menial tasks of the workers. Even in his younger days, he had fantasized himself as having ultimate power, and now was his chance at making that fantasy a reality. His driving force was knowing that if he couldn’t convince Dexter to like him out of his own accord, this newfound power could force Dexter’s affections. As empty and depraved a scheme it was, he was sure it would satisfy his yet unsatisfied need to be loved.

After laborious years of kissing up to his superiors, CEO rose to the top. This meant many of opportunities of his own to be beaten. Very few could he even distinctly remember; there were so many, and they were all the same to him. The last one he could actually recall was when he became a secretary for one of the chief executives. Ruthless and abusive, this was someone he would just as soon forget. Yet, he had him to thank for making him the great leader he had become5

To his surprise, he actually came to owe Douglas a lot over the years. This was one of those times. Both were certain their paths would never cross again. CEO hoped beyond hope they wouldn’t. Yet Douglas, being the sly weasel he had always been, brought him quickly to the top. CEO wished he could have been the secretary of anyone else, as he knew they would remain at odds after their close youthful encounter.

Every day was torture. He had to punch a time clock every day for work, and working for Douglas made him feel as if the time clock applied to his life as well. Douglas seemed to go out of his way to make CEO miserable. CEO was little more than a slave. Signing papers and answering phones all day long kept him in a chair constantly, he could forget about sleep, and nothing he did was ever enough to satisfy Douglas’s constant needs. CEO felt the pressure of the life he didn’t live. He became bonier than ever before, as he rarely had time to eat. As time went on, at every chance at sustenance, he asked himself, “What’s the point?” He would sometimes go days without any sleep, and his large eyes were underlined deeply by dark, thick circles. He was clearly wasting away, and he had no idea how much longer he would last. He hoped it wouldn’t be long, because he couldn’t imagine anything that could be so destructive to a single person.

One fateful day when he didn’t meet Douglas’s high standards was the day that pushed him over the edge in the past led to the global nightmare he inflicted on the future. While on a mission to collect a pile of copied papers, CEO began to give in to his lack of food and sleep. The stack of papers wobbled, and felt increasingly heavier in his arms. After a few unsteady steps, his head spun, his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, allowing papers to fly across the hall. Douglas soon realized he was missing, and without having gone far, he found CEO where he fell. By now he was slowly coming back to life and trying to collect the papers scattered everywhere.

Forgetting the papers, Douglas yanked CEO to his feet. His face reddened, and since he had never been good at “using his words” as his parents had always taught him, he simply dragged CEO back to the office. As Douglas opened a drawer in his desk, CEO knew all too well what was to come next. He lifted a black whip out of the drawer, holding on to one end and letting the other drop to the floor. CEO stood in the corner, as if trying to escape his sight. This was fruitless; Douglas’s lips curled into a cunning smile, as it was back to old times. CEO was the servant; he was the master.

He instructed CEO, “Take your clothes off.” CEO’s eyes pleaded with Douglas to reconsider; his silence spoke volumes. When he didn’t move, Douglas repeated, “Take your clothes off!” harshly this time. CEO did as he was told, uneasily keeping his eyes on Douglas. When he was down to his underwear, he flinched shakily, and pushed himself as close to the wall as he could. The cold marble numbed his skin, which became painful, but he would chose it over the whipping that was to come. So he braced himself against the frigid wall at the complete mercy of Douglas’s unforgiving whip and hand. With a motion from Douglas beckoning him to step forward from the wall, CEO stood shivering.

Douglas wound up his arm as if he planned to throw a baseball, but instead threw a stinging lash. CEO screamed, and the sound was not quite human. He blinked back hot tears as the whip attacked his taut skin, tearing it as easily as tissue paper. CEO still lusted for Douglas, even through all the anguish Douglas had caused him. He wished he understood why someone he loved so much could still cause him to be so miserable? Douglas continued to snap the whip, leaving feather thin slashes all over CEO’s body. Stroking a cut on his chest, he let its blood pool in his palm like water from a fountain. With another whip swish, CEO had another slice on the back of the hand. CEO looked at the floor, seeing the puddles of blood, and felt faint.

Douglas cackled, obviously thrilled with himself. When Douglas paused, momentarily ceasing the infliction, CEO, dripping with blood and sweat, looked over at him. In an effort to bring Douglas back to his old self, CEO whispered, “Douglas, I still love you.” Douglas stopped laughing and stared at CEO. It struck him almost as funny. Gaunt, fearful, bleeding CEO told Douglas he loved him. Seeing this as too strange, Douglas laughed harder, and had to lean on his desk with one hand to support himself. A tear formed in CEO’s eye and fell, mixing with the sweat and blood on his chest. With Douglas’s unstoppable laughter serving as a distraction, CEO quickly put his clothes back on.

As he did so, Douglas managed to regain his composure long enough to demand, “CEO, wipe up my floor.” CEO’s bones creaked at he knelt on the floor to wipe up the blood. Droplets of freshly fallen blood crashed into the puddles of blood, creating small ripples. In a burst of exasperation, CEO shouted, “I don’t even remember why we were together, but I regret every moment of it! It was Dexter I loved form the start! He is far more attractive than you could ever be!” instantly, CEO regretted divulging the secret that had haunted him since he and Douglas were “in love.”

“You are beyond help!” Douglas wheezed between laughing and gasping for breath. “Wait until I tell Dexter! Shit, that would be funny!” CEO was not bothered by this. What did it matter now? Sobering up briefly, Douglas undid a few buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you like that? Do you want me?” Douglas burst out laughing again, unable to repress it any longer. CEO was burning up inside. He was in agony the instant his shirt and pants touched his fresh wounds. But what caused suffering far beyond that of any physical pain was Douglas’s constant taunting. Again, Douglas threw his head back laughing, and in his giddiness made his life-changing mistake. “You want me, queer? Come on, go for it!”

CEO had had enough. Like his sister, he had a short fuse, and he could only take so much before it set him off. In seconds, he transformed from a pitiful, sniveling victim to Douglas’s greatest fear. At first, Douglas felt nothing with his laughter overpowering him, but when he opened his eyes, he was silenced upon seeing CEO’s enraged face right in front of his own. Douglas now knew what it meant to be in CEO’s place, pinned against the wall.

Douglas was not one to let anyone see him sweat, but this was an exception. His mouth opened and closed out of instinct, but he couldn’t speak. CEO’s eyes narrowed as he laid a hand more than firmly on Douglas’s neck. It was so unlike him to stand up to Douglas like this, but Douglas had driven him to it. “Get out of my office.” Growled CEO. Douglas readied himself to protest, but as he did so, the look on CEO’s face made him think better of it. “NOW.” CEO continued, pressing harder on Douglas’s neck, feeling the Adam’s apple move up and down as Douglas swallowed hard. Douglas nodded fearfully, as blood, the blood of angry men, splattered on him through CEO’s soaked shirt. CEO released Douglas as he backed up, snatching up the whip Douglas let fall. “Enjoy being a typist.” CEO spat as Douglas left, resentfully. Shooting CEO a spiteful look, he mumbled, “Faggot,” and hurried out.

Ever since that day, CEO felt empowered in a way he could never have imagined before. Who knew simply throwing your weight around enough to intimidate your rival would be so satisfying? Nearly overnight, CEO flew up the corporal ladder, because after his run-in with Douglas was common knowledge, no one dared oppose him as he rose to power5

CEO smirked, coming back to reality out of the memory. It was years ago, but what did it matter? It was such am incredible concept, they way he had managed to work his way to the top.

Suddenly, and idea came to him as he looked to the lab around him. If oppression worked on office staff, it should work on Mandark, too. He tore the cutout of Dexter to shreds, and wanted more than anything to seek revenge on Mandark. Satisfied for the moment with his work, CEO sat down on the paved floor, leaning back against the time machine to reflect on his finest hour.

At the same time, Mandark looked back with pride on his own accomplishments, as he luxuriously relaxed in the hot tub in his lavish resort style room. This was euphoria for him, a castle on a cloud: nothing had been so perfect, and he couldn’t imagine anything better. Except one thing5

Wrapping his monogrammed bathrobe around himself, he strode purposefully back to the office. All the secretaries shrank back in their chairs, not daring to make eye contact with him. He liked the feeling of power, but he preferred the thought of love, and this time, he knew exactly where to look. Sitting at his desk, he shook his head elegantly, allowing water to spray across the small room. Mandark then pressed a button on the intercom on his desk and in his most tyrannical, overconfident voice, he announced, “Number 12! Appear in my office immediately.” Upon giving the request, Mandark sat back in the chair and sighed contentedly to himself, ready for his angel to appear before him.