Short Story: QP-id, spreading love and happiness, one experiment at a time.


QP-id has decided that the humans around him need help. He has a plan to spread love and happiness. He’s going to take it one experiment at a time.

NC17: M/M, Mind Reading, Oral Sex.

Chapter One.

What the fuck had he drank last night? He hadn’t remembered having that much. Maybe a beer or two over what he’d usually have, but nothing too extreme. He’d even managed to have a decent conversation with the bartender after Connor had disappeared onto the dance floor. Well, that’s what he’d thought at the time anyway. Now, well now, his head felt like it had been invaded by a swarm of bees and they weren’t at all happy about the situation.

Blearily John crawled out of his bed and stumbled to the bathroom for some pain killers. He opened the cabinet above the sink and saw the empty box, lid still open, sitting on the bottom shelf.

“Connor!” He yelled, “Connor I’m going to kill you, you bastard!”

A pained groan from his house-mates room was all he heard in response. Connor had hit the booze hard at the club but he couldn’t blame him. His boyfriend had split up with him over a text the day before and last night had been John’s attempt at getting him back onto his feet. So much for that plan.

Johns girlfriend had left him to ‘find herself’ in a local hippy commune a few months ago. He’d heard she was fucking the guru that ran the place now, so she’d certainly found something that caught her interest there at least.

He’d wondered why he hadn’t been more upset when she’d left him at first but now he’d just given up on even trying to figure his life out.

He downed a glass of water and then headed for Connor’s room. Once there he banged on the door and called through the wood.

“I’m coming in and you better have a hell of a lot of painkillers in there otherwise you’re going out to get me some because this is all your fault!”

The muffled “Fuck off” that came as a reply didn’t bode well.

Apathetic about the fact that he was still only in the boxers he’d woken up in he pushed on the door and shuffled into the room. Connor was curled into a ball on his bed, his head was under his pillow and his curtains had been wedged shut to block out any hope the light had of ever finding its way past them.

“Oh gods, not now, I can’t cope with this, not now.” Connor’s voice was remarkably clear considering the pillow over his head but John’s sole focus was the little white bottle of pills, still sealed, on the bedside table. With a new lease of life he fixated on the bottle and staggered towards it. He ignored the pained moans of his best friend and swallowed two of the pills dry. It was only after that that he actually began listening to what his friend was saying.

“Fuck I wish I’d never blown him last night. Fuck, I’m such a whore. Why do I do this? Fucking idiot Connor, he’ll never want you. What sort of prick would want a fucking whore that blows random guys in the bathroom?”

“Woah, woah, dude…TMI mate. And chill the fuck out. You’re a great guy. Craig was just an ass who isn’t worth your time. You’re way better than he is.”

“What?” A blonde head poked out from under the pillow.

“I was saying the over-share. Not needed, but Craig was an ass-hole so don’t waste your time on him.”

Connor blinked and stared up at John with slightly red eyes and a pillow creased face. “I didn’t say anything to you, but, urm, thanks? I guess?” What the fuck is he high or something?

John heard the words and the first bit was fine, he saw Connor’s lips move and everything. The second part though…

“I think it might be you that’s still drunk. You had way more than I did if you ended up blowing some random guy in the stalls anyway.”

What little colour there was in Connor’s face drained away in an instant.

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

“You just told me…”

“I didn’t say anything. You were the one that shouted through my door and barged in here like a zombie on a mission.” How the fuck did he know? I’m going to kill Spencer if he told him. Oh god. Fuck fuck fuck…

Again, John watched as Connor clearly spoke to him and he saw him stop as well. After that though the words just kept on coming. He watched his best friends face screw up with worry and saw his eyes track over him as the words just didn’t stop. He could hear everything. At one point he even tried to cover his ears to block out the sound. What the hell was happening to him?

“Stop!” He shouted. “Fucking stop, just stop!”

Of course, it didn’t. That just made everything worse and brought on a new round of worries. Connor started to ask if he’d taken the stuff Rob had tried to hand him before they’d left the club and he heard the worry in his mind as he tried to plan out how best to get him to hospital without freaking him out even more.

“I don’t need to go to hospital ok? I just, I just need you to stop that’s all. I don’t need to hear this crap. I’m not on drugs and if you call Rob I’ll fucking smack you I swear it. I’m not stupid enough to take anything he’s selling.”

“I didn’t say anything about…”

“I know! That’s the problem!”

“What the fuck man?”

He couldn’t do this. Before he had a chance to say anything stupid John turned and ran for the bathroom. He almost fell over himself in his hurry to get away and when he reached the small sanctuary he slammed the door behind him. His hands trembled as he slid the lock into place. On legs that were threatening to give out at any moment he lurched towards the sink. Turning the tap on John doused his face with water and stared up into the mirror. Terrified brown eyes met his gaze. His slightly tanned skin had paled and his usually handsomely spiked hair was now dripping and clinging to his temples. His day old beard outlined a jaw that was clenched shut with tension. The muscles of his shoulders were equally rigid and he grasped the edge of the sink to prevent himself collapsing. Outside the door he heard weary footsteps approaching.

“Go away!” He shouted before he could hear anything else he didn’t want to.

“No way man, it’s just a bad trip, I’m not leaving you alone.” Connor started to bang on the door “Open up!”

Was it? John didn’t know. He wasn’t a stranger to drugs, he’d done his fair share as a student and he hadn’t held back when it came to trying out new things. He’d felt the rushes and the highs, the heady trips and the blissful leathery that came with each different drug. He’d also experienced all the lows. But this? He’d never had anything like this happen before.

He was trying his best to ignore the insistent stream of worry that was coming from his friend. He had no way of knowing what was actually being said and what was…his thoughts? It was strange to even entertain the idea. Maybe he was delusional. If that was the case shouldn’t he do as Connor said and open the door? He’d watched enough TV to know what happened when people freaked out in a small space.

He looked himself in the eye and tried to check for any sign that he was losing it. His pupils weren’t over-dilated, he was pale but that was more from shock than anything else. He wasn’t over hot or cold. His palms were sweaty, but again, that was from fear. His head still hurt like hell though.

The banging on the door increased and the volume of the panic behind it was starting to get alarming.

He was pretty sure he wasn’t coming down from anything but the headache was enough to get him to open the door. Connor nearly fell into him and the blonde backed off to take in John’s appearance. What John heard then was enough to make him want to close the door again. He didn’t though. Connor hadn’t said a word but, John was pretty sure, he had heard every thought that was passing through his mind.

Connor opened his mouth to speak.

“Before you say anything, let me talk.” Connor closed his mouth but John heard the quashed complaint and worry. He ignored it. “This is going to sound insane and yes, I do know how crazy it is before you ask. I, fuck this is so…insane…I can hear your thought’s ok? I think I can hear what you’re thinking…all of it.”

For the second time that morning Connor just stared at John and blinked. It was a long time before he spoke and when he did it was in that special, talking someone off a ledge voice that was reserved for people having a break down and small children just before they drop your phone in the toilet.

“You think you can hear my thoughts. As in, you are saying that you, the man who has done more drugs than Jagger, are not in fact high, but are merely telepathic? Is that right?”


“What am I thinking right now?”

John listened. After the stream of scepticism had passed he heard the real worry. Connor was worried that John was losing it, he was worrying about what he would do if John was taken away and how he’d pay the bills. He was scared what would happen to John in an asylum and was curious if it would be like in the films. For a split second he allowed himself to wonder if what John said was actually possible but told himself it wasn’t and moved on. The longer John stood there the wilder Connor’s thoughts became until he was practically begging him to say something.

“I’m pretty sure the asylums aren’t like they are in the movies anymore and Janice will happily move in with you if they do cart me away. You know she’s had a crush on you since the day we met right?”

Connor froze. All the nervous energy of a moment ago snapped to attention and without moving a muscle he stared at his friend.

What the fuck.

“Tell me about it.”

“What the fuck!

“I know!

“But you can’t…this is impossible…this is crazy…this…you heard…how long?”

“Don’t you think I know that? It’s only started this morning and you think I want to be able to hear what’s going on in your head? I’m pretty sure I could have lived without knowing how much you look at my package even when you’re freaking out about me being carted off to the nut-ward.”

“You didn’t? I don’t! Fuck this shit!” Connor turned on his heels and went right back to his room. The last John heard of him that day was the click of his key in the lock as he was barred from entering.


He had to know, that’s what he’d told himself any way. Going back to the club had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Now he wasn’t so sure. He’d walked carefully past everyone he met in the street. He wasn’t sure if he was worried or relieved that he couldn’t seem to hear their thoughts. He’d reached the club but of course it was shut. He’d tried to go around the back to see if there was another way in but unlike on TV, where there was always a convenient side entrance, this club had security gates and cameras that tracked him as he scouted. He hadn’t known they were following him until a police officer had walked up to him and asked him quite politely what he was doing. Trying to sound as sane as possible and omitting the more outlandish parts of his morning he explained to the officer that he had to speak with clubs owner about a personal matter. When asked what the personal matter was he regretted the answer he gave. He suspected the rather sarcastic “It’s personal” was what tipped the officer over the edge and landed him with the caution for trespassing along with the on the spot fine and a warning not to go near the club again for the foreseeable future.

Well fuck. John kicked a plastic bottle across the street. It bounced off the curb on the other side of the road and rolled away down the hill. His headache had subsided quite considerably now and he was starting to believe that maybe it had been a hangover. He checked his phone for the tenth time since he’d left the house but there wasn’t a message. Fuck, he’d really screwed this one up. He started to make his way back home and opened up a new chat in his message box.

He began to type out: Look man, sorry I freaked you out. I don’t know what happened, maybe I was…

He stopped typing. What was he going to say exactly? Maybe I was actually insane? Maybe I’m having a psychotic break? Sorry, oh and by the way I now have a police caution?

He settled with: Hey there, on my way home, want me to stop by the chippy on the way back?

The reply was almost instant: Yes. Am starving.


On two things John was now clear. One: He had somehow developed a telepathic connection with his best friend and Two: Said best friend was in love with him and had been for the past five years. He didn’t know what to do with either of these knowledge bombs but thankfully neither did Connor. They had tested John’s new found powers over fish and chips and a re-run of House. John had to admit that apart from the fact that he’d never be able to look at Chase the same way Connor’s off hand and rather sarcasm laced thoughts were quite funny. He hadn’t been able to help bursting out laughing at a few of them which had freaked Connor out until he’d explained what was going on.

Connor, for his part, had handled the situation rather well. He’d only had two breakdowns so far and they’d both agreed to never talk about them again.

They were now sat at opposite ends of the sofa and were very clearly respecting each other’s space. John did concede, in the privacy of his own mind, that hearing what Connor thought about him and how he saw him was flattering. It was completely freaking crazy, but it was flattering. He wasn’t gay himself and had never really been that curious about men. A dick to him was just a dick. He didn’t like nor dislike them. But hearing the thoughts that Connor tried desperately to hide and seeing the x-rated scenes that he couldn’t help but play in his mind had actually made him blush. For the first half an hour he’d echo’d the rush of butterflies in his stomach that Connor got every time he saw John and he hadn’t been able to make eye contact. He’d told himself it was stupid and that he didn’t care if Connor wanted to fuck him up against a wall, it was never going to happen. What Connor did in the privacy of his own brain was up to him and he’d never even made a move with John because he knew he was straight. In fact, he’d found out that that was half of the appeal. It turned out that gay men were attracted to straight guys for the same reason straight men went after lesbians. Forbidden fruit. The only issue was that he was having trouble getting the image of himself being fucked up against the wall out of his head and his dick was starting to twitch reflexively whenever either Cameron or Chase came on the screen. That was something that he needed to sort out and fast.

He got up and headed for the kitchen.

“Want another?” He held up the bottle of Budweiser as Connor turned to look at him.

Connor grinned happily, “Sure.”

John had to force himself not to cover his ass as he walked towards the fridge. This was going to get worse before it got better he just knew it. Sighing he opened the fridge, got the beer out and strode back into the front room, determined to keep things as normal as they could possibly be. What normal was for him right now remained to be seen.

Connor was waiting for him to come back and he held out his hand for the bottle when John was close enough to pass it. Popping the lid John handed it over to his friend. The channel had changed on the TV but he hadn’t a clue what to and he didn’t much care. Connor was worrying again and it wasn’t something that could just be ignored away, although John would have happily given away one of his less useful limbs to make it not so.

He sighed and sat heavily on his end of the sofa. After a long swig of his drink he answered the unspoken question.

“Yeah, I know how you feel about me. It’s kinda hard not to now that I can, y’know,” John pointed to his head “hear everything.”

Connor looked mortified.

“It’s fine, I don’t care, it’s not like it’s any of my business what goes on in your head…hell I’d give anything not to be able to know. I’m seriously considering handing myself over to the shrinks.”

There was a decidedly awkward pause.

“You know if you do that they’ll lock you up and operate on your brain right?”

John laughed, “Yeah. Might be better than this though?”

Connor’s face fell.

“No, no, dude. Honestly I really don’t mind, it’s just. You know I’m not gay right? I’ve never felt like that about another guy and having all these thoughts in my head…and half of them are about me. Do you know how weird it is to have an image of yourself enjoying being fucked by another guy in your head when you aren’t gay? And come on, you can’t like it either?”

“No! God no. I just, well, it’s weird y’know, to hear someone say they’d rather have their brains picked apart than hear what’s going on in your head…especially when…” Connor picked at the label of his drink. “So you’ve never?”

“Nope.” John answered the unspoken ‘been with a guy’ and tacked on “Never wanted to either” for good measure. He didn’t want to hurt his friend but he definitely did not want to go in the direction Connor’s thoughts were heading. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’m gonna go hit the sack. Hopefully this will all be over in the morning and I can go back to being blissfully ignorant, does that sound good to you?”

Connor had picked the label clean off his Budweiser. “Yeah.” He sounded both relieved and a little lost. His head was spinning with thoughts of rejection, relief and the ever present longing that John was now beginning to associate with being around his friend.

“You know you’re still my best friend right? I couldn’t give two flying monkeys about what’s going on up there,” John tapped Connor on the head and felt the thrill of his friend as his fingers made contact with his temple. Fuck this was going to be awkward. “I might not wanna fuck you but I’m not going to go running for the hills because you secretly wanna fuck me. Surely you know I’m not that much of a douchebag?”

Connor Smiled and this time the smile was genuine. John listened as the mad swirl of thoughts and images settled down into a re-assured background humm.

“Thanks.” Connor said and before John knew what was happening Connor was hugging him.

This wasn’t exactly abnormal for the two of them but given the circumstances John felt justified in freezing up like a board.

Come on man, I thought you said you weren’t going to be a douche about this?

He heard the mischievous tone to his friends thoughts but had to laugh. Connor would always be Connor. Relaxing he wrapped his arms around him and gave him a short but heartfelt hug. As he let go he also made sure to ruffle the other man’s carefully styled hair, because he too, would always be himself.

The cursing and embarrassed muttering was music to his ears as he went upstairs and into the quiet of his room.

Stripping down to his underwear he made a quick visit to the bathroom before climbing in between the sheets and fell asleep within minutes.


QP-id stared at the stream of data coming in from Test Subject 1. So far the results were encouraging. The man had certainly met his experimental criteria: Old enough to be responsible for his own decisions and yet socially isolated and becoming more so. He had told QP-id about his lack of romantic entanglements whilst he was at the bar. QP-id had served him his drinks and listened as he explained all about his fears for his friend and as the man had talked to him of his past experiments with drugs and the fact that he was estranged from his family he had decided to make his move. The man and his friend needed his help. The next drinks he gave to Subject 1 and 2 were laced with his newly created nanobots. He had tested them rigorously on animals and the results had proven to him that despite what his human programmers had hard coded into him he could help humans in ways other than serving them drinks and listening to their problems. QP-id was determined to fix them. The telepathy bots had worked quickly on Subject 1 but there appeared to be a few bugs with Subject 2. He bent over at his desk and began to open up negotiations with his machines. By the morning he was sure that the experiment would be running smoothly again.


There were hands moving up John’s sides from behind and something rough and hard in front of him. He braced himself against it anyway, his biceps tensing as he felt the arms move around him and slowly start to glide across his chest muscles. He was a well built man and he knew he could make it stop at any point, it’s just he didn’t quite want to. The gentle kisses he felt along the tops of his shoulders and against his neck were unexpected. He shivered and let his head fall forward as the ghost of a breath brushed past his ear. When a warn, hardlined and softly muscled body pushed up against him he wasn’t quite sure how to react. Looking down he realised he was naked…and so was the other man behind him. Now he was paying attention it was increasingly clear just how naked the man was. He wanted to freeze, he wanted to push him away but there were those kisses again and the hands were moving steadily down from his chest towards his growing erection. What the fuck was going on?

The kisses were teasing their way down his spine and oh God there was a hand wrapping around his cock. He couldn’t stop the moan from escaping his lips as it started it’s sure and steady rhythm. The lips were at the top of his ass now and he jerked as he felt a playful nip against his right buttock. The mouth wasn’t finished there though. Strong fingers grabbed at his ass cheek and pulled at it to reveal his hole. He wanted to cry out, to get them to stop but an alien excitement was holding the words back and the steady rhythm of the hand around his dick had his hips gently rocking in time with it. Even as he braced for it when the man’s tongue touched him he instinctively flinched away. The man was surprisingly strong and held him firmly in place as his tongue explored the sensitive skin of his hole.

John bucked but the fight had left him as the pleasure had coursed up his now arched spine and had registered with the rest of his body. It was all he could do to resist pushing back onto the warm, soft and oh so skillful man’s face. The hand around his dick seemed to know exactly what to do to drive him crazy and the tongue at his ass was almost too much to bare. Absently he realised that there was a steady stream of profanities leaving his lips urging the man behind him onwards.

“Fuck, yeah, oh God, like that, yeah just there, yes! More!”

Mortified but not willing to stop this for all the money in the world he allowed himself to get lost in the sensations, closing his eyes and floating adrift on the waves of pleasure. It wasn’t long before he felt the tell tale tension of an imminent orgasm and out of reflex he called out a pleasure laiden warning. He felt the man’s smile against his skin and he let out a shocked gasp as he felt the tongue slide inside of him. Without any further warning his orgasm hit and he almost collapsed against the hard stone of the wall in front of him. Closing his eyes he gasped in a stuttery breath. His heart was hammering and he wasn’t quite sure what the fuck had just happened or how but he was going to find out. Right after he figured out how to open his eyes again…

John awoke to a very real wet patch in his underwear and sweat soaked sheets. Fuck. This wasn’t happening. He stripped as quickly as he could and grabbed his bathrobe before hurrying to the bathroom. To his dismay he found the door shut and could hear Connor on the other side of it starting up the shower. Fuck. He didn’t want to even think about Connor right now, especially right now. In a mild panic he headed for the stairs and ran down to the kitchen sink. Grabbing the nearest hand towel he cleaned himself the best he could and threw it into the washing machine. He began to pace the kitchen and ran his hands through his now damp hair. He could do this, he could. It was just a dream, it didn’t mean anything and after what had happened yesterday it was probably quite normal. It was normal right? There was nothing to get worked up over and nothing to freak out about. It was just a dream. Granted he hadn’t come in his pants since he was seventeen but that was fine too. It happened to everyone at some point. It was just he’d never come because of a dream like that, that was all. Trying desperately to hide what he was quickly beginning to realise was shame along with a healthy dose of humiliation he filled the kettle and began to make some tea.


Connor was feeling great. He hadn’t had a dream that felt that real and had gotten him off so quickly in a long time. He’d already gotten off twice more just thinking about it, once in his room and once in the shower, imagining John was in there with him. Taking his time and stretching his climax out for as long as possible he mentally re-enacted what had happened in his sleep. When he did come, it was with the image of John’s face and the sound of his surrender as he’d given in and allowed the pleasure Connor was giving him to tip him over the edge.

Feeling a good deal more relaxed than the day before he headed downstairs. His hair was perfect and his ass looked fabulous in his new jeans. Today was going to be great.

To his surprise John was up and pacing around the kitchen muttering to himself. He could smell the strong blended tea his friend favoured when he was worrying but it was what Connor could hear that stopped him dead in his tracks.

“It’s fine, just because you dreamt about a guy doesn’t mean you are gay. You’ve dreamt about failing your exams too but that didn’t come true. It’s just Connor affecting you. As long as you don’t do anything stupid like tell him about it everything will be just fine.”

What puzzled Connor was the fact that John seemed to say most of this whilst clearly drinking his tea. The moment he thought this, however, John whirled around with panic in his eyes.

“What?” The panic in his voice was unmistakable. “What did you just…”

Images accompanied John’s words. Visions of the previous day, of realising that he could hear Connor’s thoughts and of Connor, his face mirrored through John’s eyes staring in shock. Quickly Connor realised that what he was seeing was coming from John and not his own mind and as soon as he thought that John’s face echoed his own. The two of them came to the conclusion at the same time. It wasn’t just John that could read Connors mind any more. Connor could now hear John’s as well.

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Sophie J Clark

I'm the author of Getting Out: Escape is harder than he’d ever imagined and QP-id: Love, Sex and Nano-Machines. I'm currently in the process of writing my third book. All works can be found on Amazon under the name Sophie J Clark.

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