black mesas got very diverse investments going on in there, theres no reason why they couldnt be funding a boner pill competitor. so lets say theres recruiting from within BM as well as without - you know, like company slogans to “do your part” by participating in research studies, that kind of company culture
and then tommy shows up to test out the Boner Potions. darnolds like, ahuhhh, what? tommy, do you know what youre signing up for? yep! is he sure?? did he make sure to thoroughly read the the release waivers before he signed them? uh-huh. hes thrilled to be doing his part for black mesa, and its darnold who is completely caught off-fucking-guard by this and has to try to remain professional while he gives tommy a boner for the next few hours. for Science.
so you know its all very clinical at first. just give tommy the potion, record how long his dick stays up for, how long it takes for him to get off, quantity of ejaculate, so on and so forth in trails over the next few days. normal stuff. theres just one problem: its not wearing off after the suggested 2 hours. and then 4 hours. the whole time tommys just chillin, reading magazines, whatever, but as 2 hrs (and longer) ticks by, hes getting flustered. being turned on for that long is making him really itchy to actually come.
thats not supposed to be part of todays trial, so as not to compromise the results, but darnold is both worried about his health and deeply curious about the effects. so, for purely scientific reasons, he tells tommy to head into the bathroom and get off so that itll go down and he can leave. but his dick does not go down at all. in fact, it may have made things worse.
well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? darnold just has to change the parameters of the experiment. now the goal is to see just how many times tommy can come before the potion wears off. turns out this is a pretty impressive amount. each time he does, tommys getting more sweaty and flustered and desperate for relief, and darnolds handwriting gets shakier and shakier b/c holy fuck, tommys hot like this. but he is a consummate professional and hes not going to jeopardize both his professional relationship with tommy and his experiment by getting involved
except that, as 6 hrs ticks by, tommy snaps and is like.......oh my god please help me out. hes Dying over here and its impossible not to notice how fucked up darnold is at this point and he really, really wants darnold to help b/c hes convinced thats the only thing thats gonna work. his own hand is clearly not sufficient. and darnold caves because, uhhh, what the fuck else is he gonna do when the coworker hes been harboring a mild (and, unbeknownst to him, mutual) crush on for awhile is pouncing on him and crawling into his lap and begging to be touched. duh.
segue into the darnold/tommy praise kink that everyone (by which i mean Literally Just Me) has been waiting for. tommys doing a great job, really, hes doing so much important work for black mesa, just a little longer and itll all be over with. hes almost there. and tommys mcfucking losing his mind b/c every time he comes, it takes more and more for him to get to the next one, and hes so close but he doesnt know how much its gonna take for him to finish this time and hes just begging darnold not to stop
and then darnold brushes his hair back and tells tommy that hes doing so good for him and tommy pops the fuck off. thats it. thats the last one, finally. and now darnolds sweating and achingly hard in his pants, too, but hes a fucking professional for gods sake and he tells tommy not to worry about it and just get himself cleaned up n shit while darnold finishes up his report.
and then he jerks himself off later so hard he nearly gives himself friction burns b/c hes never, ever going to be able to get that shit off his mind.
The thing that one has to understand about Black Mesa is that, as a company, it’s got a plethora of diverse investments. Fingers in a lot of pies. It attracts the brightest minds from a variety of fields, theoretical physics and mixology among them. And, consequently, it falls upon those mixologists’ shoulders to formulate all kinds of new pharmaceuticals to suit those diverse investments. Potions to meet the needs of the modern man: Limb regeneration tinctures. Multi-surface cleaners. Erectile dysfunction treatments. The works, really.
As it happens, Dr. Darnold Pepper’s latest project falls under that last category. Say what you will about it, it’s good work, and there’s a staggering amount of money to be made if Black Mesa can corner the market. So he’s had his nose to the grindstone these past few months, devising experimental formulations and running clinical trials. He takes his job very seriously, and he hasn’t spent all those sleepless nights toiling at the lab for his work to be dismissed as mere boner potions, thank you.
His latest formula seems promising. Animal testing was a marked success, although Darnold has to admit, the last thing anyone wants to see is a horny headcrab. They’ve gotten the clear to move onto the first set of human clinical trials, and, to no one’s surprise, this round has quite a few takers. Part of it stems from the company culture - signs plastered across the Research and Development sector encourage employees to Do Their Part and Contribute To The Team by volunteering as participants in company-sponsored research. On the other hand, the larger part of it isn’t worth discussing in polite company.
This does, unfortunately, make things a bit awkward for him when his latest test subject is none other than one Dr. Tommy Coolatta. Darnold blinks as the man in question walks into his lab, smiling just the same as he always does.
“Ah, hey there, Tommy,” Darnold starts, clearing his throat. “You, uh, you lost? You gotta take a right at that three-way corridor. It can be awful confusing sometimes—”
“Nope! I’m— I’m right where the email told me I should be, I think. Here to do my part for Black Mesa!”
Darnold attempts to straighten the papers he’s got clutched in his hands, but ends up dropping most of them to the floor. He swears as he scrambles to pick them up. “Are you… are you sure you know what you signed up for? The new Powerade flavors were cycled out last week, we’re not running tests for those anymore. There was a— an unexpected side effect, you know, internal blistering, that kind of thing,” he asks from the floor.
“Yeah. I… I heard about that, it seems like a… a real debacle.”
“Huh. And you, uh, you made sure to read all the paperwork before you signed it, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Tommy blinks down at him as he clambers back to his feet.
“Right. Well. Good. You… you go and have a seat over there, alright? Let me get the sample prepared,” Darnold says, gesturing to an examination table. His mouth runs on autopilot, professionalism taking over his higher brain functions. “You’ll be taking 30 mils of our latest formula - about the size of one of those little cups of NyQuil. Now, ah, I can’t make any guarantees about the taste… we’re still refining the formula, though we’re going for a pineapple kind of thing. I’ll be asking for some feedback about the taste and texture.”
He rummages through the mini-fridge at his lab bench, and his hands shake so badly they make the glass vials inside rattle. Why is he even worked up like this? He’s a consummate professional. He’s run these trials time and time again, and managed to maintain a level of clinical distance from every other participant. The fact that Darnold’s, you know, friends with Tommy should have nothing to do with it. Neither should the less-than-professional thoughts he’s entertained about Tommy before. Tamp down those thoughts, he tells himself sternly. He’s done it successfully for the past few years, and he’s not about to compromise his results by thinking about how he’s about to give a medically-induced hard-on to a guy he’s dreamt of holding hands with and stroking the hair of and—
No. No more of that. When Darnold turns back to Tommy, vial in hand, his face is carefully blank. “It’ll take about ten minutes for this to kick in, assuming everything goes as expected. Unlike other drugs of this nature, you shouldn’t need to induce arousal yourself to feel noticeable effects. That’s the edge we’ve got over our competitors,” he rattles off.
“Oh. Neat. Should I, uh, is there anything else I need to do?” Tommy looks at him, clear-eyed and earnest, and Darnold clears his throat.
“Not really. Just sit still so I can observe you and ask some questions. I’ll be monitoring some of your vitals… temperature, blood pressure, that kind of thing.” He doles out Tommy’s dose into a plastic cup and hands it to him. This particular potion’s a murky reddish-purple in color, and it clings to the sides of the glass. The viscosity might be a problem for mass production, but for a batch process, it’s not much of an issue. Darnold makes a note on his clipboard.
Once Tommy downs it, there’s not much to do but sit and wait. Observe. Ask those questions. The flavor’s tangy, almost tart, but doesn’t quite hit those pineapple notes, apparently. Some of the natural flavors must have been degraded in the distillation process. Another note. Texture, “not bad”. Well. Darnold can work with that.
Around the ten-minute mark, Tommy’s face starts to flush, pink high in his cheeks. “Oh,” he starts, uncertain, “I think it’s starting to work!”
“Huh? Oh, good. Great. Right on time. Would you mind describing what you’re feeling right now?”
“It’s, uh, I’m feeling pretty hot under the collar… like it’s a spring morning… in Miami. I could really go for a— a Margarita Monday right now.” He laughs and rubs the back of his neck.