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June 19 Vanishing Manhood: Part 5
Vanishing Manhood:
Part 5
Being a human ‘Guinea Pig’.
Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand. Listen to the
► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

The Titanic was sunk by
snowflakes that fell long before mankind first forged iron
Once, way before I was born, they might have called me a
'nice guy.’ I wasn't sure what it would have meant back then but tonight it was
a weak-willed male who caved-in to the desires of the women around him.
"Compassion only goes so far," I struggled to articulate.
"If I say no, what do you do next?"
"That's the rub," she shared a secret smile.
"Thirty years of research have not been totally in vain. We know one of
the key causes of the plague's mutation, physical and mental stress."
I stared, I stared, I stared then I laughed loudly.
"You treating us like second class citizens is finally
biting you in the ass?" I tittered insanely.
"We made logical decisions designed to save the human
race," Delilah reasoned calmly. "There were factors we didn't take
into consideration. Besides, the majority of men don't seem to mind so
much."
"If that was the case, we wouldn't be dying out,"
I countered.
"Still," I reasoned, "if women," at
least the women in charge, "know, why aren't they doing something to make
the lives of men easier?"
"Please, Israel," her eyes danced. "Where
would it stop? Men would demand everything and the female population has come
too far to give into male extortion now."
"We are not going to roll back the clock two hundred
years on women's rights," Delilah said. "So we keep a lid on things
until a cure becomes available. That's where you come in. You are a very
promising lead."
"A promising lead to what?" Maggy asked, rescuing
me from this mortifying conversation.
"For finding happiness," Delilah smiled at me.
"Interesting. Does that apply to all of us, Dr.
Fremont, or just you?" Maggy inquired.
"Neither," I fought for my center. My mind raced
but my thoughts were focusing down to a few salient points.
"You have a jammer," I said to no one in particular.
"Of course," Delilah nodded in appreciation of my
non-idiot-hood. "Not everything needs to be committed to electronic
memory."
"That sounds positively criminal," Maggy purred.
"Lady, Maggy, you have no idea," I muttered. She
found that utterly amusing.
"We will talk more about this later, Israel,"
Delilah winked. "Try giving Bethany one more chance. She could be useful
to you."
"I look forward to having no other options," I
gulped. Delilah laughed as she left me out on the balcony with Magdalena.
"From what I've heard, you are an oddity for one of
these functions, Mr. Jensen," she said.
"First time here," I noted absently.
"For both of us it seems. That's not what makes you so
appealing though, or your very fortunate lady friend," Maggy smiled.
"The fact that I'm acting like I don't want to be
here?" I hoped.
"I doubt it. It is the fact that you are tip-toeing on
the precipice of sanity, Mr. Jensen," she clarified.
"You can call me Israel," I suggested.
"You can call me Maggy," she reiterated.
"I think I'll call you Magdalena. Maggy is a nice,
warm, friendly name. Magdalena reminds me that behind your glittering teeth is
a soulless carnivore," I told her.
"You really don't know who I am, do you?"
Magdalena regarded me studiously.
"Nope," I shrugged. "I'm not terribly
interested in knowing who you are either. I didn't come here to get nice and
cozy with the dark side of human nature, sadly, I failed in that desire, and
all of you have the misfortune of being found both useful and morally pliable
by Isobel Diaz, which puts you all in the aforementioned 'dark side of human
nature.’"
"You really don't know who I am?" she blinked in
shock. "I would normally assume you were a trap set by Isobel, but you
really don't seem to give a crap who I am."
"Good. We are on the same page," I noted.
"Israel, I find you fascinating," Magdalena
declared. "This doesn't happen often. In fact, the last time a male truly
interested me I was, nine."
"Oh," I groaned. "For the love of God, tell
me what it is and I'll correct it. Whatever it takes for you to turn around and
walk back inside, forgetting everything I've said and done that you find the
slightest bit interesting, please tell me what it is and I'll do my best to do
it."
"No, I don't think so," she smirked. "I am a
soulless carnivore, as you mentioned."
"I'm not sure what it is about you that I like, but
there is something there," she mentioned. "Until I find out what it
is, I'm going to keep an eye on you."
When you build a levee to withstand a flood you do it in
anticipation you know how high the river will rise.
From the age of sixteen, the water had been rising. There
was no design to it; all chance. Chance had led me to Bethany Fremont. Bethany
had led me to Isobel Diaz. Bethany and Isobel had led me to Delilah Fremont.
Isobel had also led me to Magdalena, whoever she was, except in the politics of
female status, Magdalena had brought Isobel to task over me and Isobel didn't
like that.
This might leave me to believe that Magdalena could shield
me from Isobel. Unless all of this was an elaborate psychological ploy to raise
my hopes only to slap them down at a time of Isobel's choosing. At that rate, I
wouldn't need for G E D to put me away; I'd fracture my mind all on my own. To
get out from under this, all I had to do was not take the bait.
Paraphrasing what I had told Kuiko, using the lion to drive
off the leopard doesn't do the zebra any good. Even if Magdalena was a real
enemy of Isobel, giving her a tool to use against the evil sow didn't make me
anything better than a tool. I turned and leaned over the railing.
"You are not going to jump, are you?" Magdalena
moved toward me.
"Are you encouraging me and angling for a better
view," I muttered, "or are you trying to stop me on the off chance
I've lost my mind?"
"I've seen enough death," Maggy told me.
"Normally I can tell the type, the ones who have given up hope, but you
are, what's the term, a Janus?"
"Do we really want to discuss the state of my mental
health or how it was shaped?" I questioned. I caught some movement behind
me, by the door. "Wouldn't you rather explore your favorite body oils and
silk sheets versus cotton blends?" It was my two minders. "Oh look,
your friends are here," I turned to the two ex-military security types.
"They are not my friends," Magdalena informed me.
"I don't care. Four-ways cost extra," I joked
feebly.
"How much would that be?" Magdalena regarded me.
"Not a clue," I sighed. "Until tonight, I had
successfully avoided being a prostitute."
"Do you know the first thing about prostitution?"
she stared intently, even angrily.
"I doubt four year old boys want to grow up to be
whores," I stared back.
"How did you come by this insight?" she countered.
"I know what it is to be a man, have someone demand sex
and not being able to say 'no'," I expressed with sad eyes.
"It is a business after all," she pointed out.
"As a chef, you don't always get to determine who your clientele are
either. You still are expected to prepare a meal."
"You sound like a pimp," I enlightened her.
Magdalena smiled and snorted in amusement.
"I've been called worse," she admitted.
"I don't think those two are going to leave us
alone," she added. "We might as well go inside."
We went inside and I vaguely remembered meeting various
women, none who I could have described five minutes later. It was a testament
to how far I'd fallen in the past few hours that I didn't even flinch when I
was 'bid' on, all in the name of some charity, and bought.
Perhaps I should have worried about Magdalena buying me for
the evening. Maybe I should have noticed how not very many women, or teams of
women, vigorously pursued the bidding for me. In retrospect, I should have been
impressed, but there were things I would only find out later that I didn't know
then.
As I said, I really didn't care what was going on until I
was alone with Magdalena once more.
We walked into the penthouse reception area, I'd come in the
servants' entrance, where we picked up two frightening women. They were dressed
in casual chic but possessed the characteristics of very hungry wolves.
The first one was tall, almost as tall as me. Her dusky skin
spoke of a parentage on four continents. She had black hair pulled back in a
tight ponytail that went half way down her back. She looked me over, then
through me, never saying a word and barely acknowledging me. I called her
Silent for lack of given name.
The second girl was shorter, maybe 5'6 with tanned skinned,
short cropped black hair and barely contained rage. She had a flame tattoo that
came up the left side of her neck but the same design was also on her left
hand, making me wonder how connected they were. I called her Flame because I
felt that asking was the best way to get my head torn off.
We were in the bedroom of one of the tower apartments, two
stories below the penthouse, when Magdalena finally spoke.
"Well?" she inquired. I put on my best game face,
slapped some asbestos on the Hindenburg and got ready inside and out to
perform.
I had my jacket on the back of the chair and the bow tie
unraveled in my hands when she held up a hand.
"No, I want the face," she insisted. Sensing a
lack of understanding, she clarified. "The face you gave to that woman
this morning."
"Oh," I mused then, "That's not going to
happen."
"Why not? You walked off the elevator willing, didn't
you? You didn't protest when I paid for you, did you? So why can't you uphold
your side of the bargain, Mr. Jensen," she studied me angrily.
"You haven't earned it," I shot back. "Hell,
you weren't even supposed to see that. It was a private moment between me and
someone I hold honest affection for. I have to accept that the image was stolen
from me but I don't have to like it and I certainly don't need to pay the thief
for the pleasure of them stealing it from me."
The two female 'friends' had appeared at the door. Perhaps I
had been ranting a little too loudly.
"What do you mean 'I haven't earned it'?" she
questioned.
"God, that you are even asking that," I shook my
head. "You are a businesswoman," I tried a different approach.
"There were over thirty people upstairs who were more
than happy to spend the night with you, if not the whole damn weekend, ready,
able and most likely, willing. Yet you chose to invest in a man clearly
miserable with the whole situation, who has shown no carnal, emotional, or
social interest in you," I explained.
"Now you claim to be unhappy with what you paid
for?" I countered. "You didn't pay for the guy in that video. You
couldn't afford him. No, you paid for the poor bub who couldn't find a way out
of appearing tonight, who had to leave that woman and the warmth of her body
next to mine, to come here to be with a woman I neither know or care to
know."
"The man you claim to want is back there with her
still. She's holding him safe until I return and I get to be him once
more," I glared. Magdalena stared at me with very cold, almost lifeless
eyes.
"Want me to beat him up some, Little M?" Flame
asked Maggy.
Magdalena weighed her response as Flame closed in. I
imagined she expected me to do something; defend myself, run, throw something,
beg forgiveness, something. I stood there. The physical options were pointless
and I'd be begging as soon as my pain threshold was breeched.
In a perverse way, seeing how much more pain I could take
this time was all I had to look forward to. There was no winning, or showing
them how tough I was. I wasn't that kind of man and if there were any like that
anymore, they were keeping their heads down.
"Not the face or hands," Magdalena instructed and
the pain began.
Physical violence against men was a rather rare thing. Sure,
I had been bullied by girls in middle school. Girls are bigger and stronger at
that age plus they are working out their hormonal shift where boys are
concerned. Not only do teachers look out for you, but boys tend to form cliques
covering multiple age groups.
Since we were so few, it was only natural that boys would
create our own little social order. It wasn't anything sinister or subversive.
It was our experience with being 'manly' and 'macho.’ We could roughhouse, talk
about girls, sports and do stupid guy shit that drove our mothers nuts when
they found out.
I had no idea how many men Flame had beaten up in her
career. Maybe men and women are identical in the weak points in our bodies.
Flame seemed to know them all. To be somewhat fair to her, I forgot to scream
until after all the air had escaped my lungs. I was also somewhat obsessed with
the craziness of it all.
Who beats up a guy for refusing to have sex with them, or
has some flunky do it for them? I had to wonder if I walked into situations
like this, was this my fault? Was there something about me that attracted the
worst kind of women?
"That's enough," Magdalena said. I was curled up
on the floor crying.
"Wimp," Flame laughed at me. It took me half a
minute to regain my breath then I began laughing. For a second I believe they
thought they'd broken me, mentally. Too late for that.
"What's so funny Israel?" Maggy asked.
"All you bitches are getting exactly what you
deserve," I laughed through gasps of pain.
Flame came back with a kick to my shin but I couldn't stop
chortling.
"Wait. What do you mean?" Magdalena pressed.
"Oh, just let Flame get back at me," I wheezed.
"Someone might as well enjoy themselves and it doesn't look like it will
be you or me."
"Wow," Magdalena chuckled, "you would rather take
a beating than have sex with me? Damn, I suddenly feel ugly. Israel, why are
you being so mean to me?"
"I'll perform sexually," I winced, "but I'm
not giving you my spirit."
"I'll take the one now then we'll see about the
other," Magdalena smiled.
I didn't question the audience, or her desire to have
'normal' sex at that time. I gave it what I had left, after a serious beating.
The bruises and welts further depleted my strength. I loathed these women, yet
I had the sensation she was disappointed, as if my techniques weren't enough,
or worse, bored her. Afterwards, the culminated stress, beating and sex had
worn me down to the last of my reserves.
"Well," Magdalena sat up and pulled her knees to
her chest.
"It doesn't take a psychic to realize you aren't
happy," I acknowledged to her.
"You could have done better," she looked at me.
"I know you could have done better," she held up her hand to stop me
from talking, "and I'm used to getting the maximum effort from the people
around me."
"You are not on the short, very short list of women
whose opinions and expectations mean crap to me, Magdalena," I replied.
"I'm going to go home and forget all about this night, your perceived
failings of me, my efforts and the beat-down Bad Ass Princess Barbie gave me. I
am never coming back to one of these things. The next time that swine Isobel
asks, I'm hitchhiking to Alaska."
Apparently Flame didn't appreciate my 'Bad Ass Princess
Barbie' comment but as I pointed out earlier, I was on my last reserves and
those were really nothing more than fumes.
"Were you not breast fed as an infant?" I regarded
Flame as she came at me on the bed. "Or did you choke out your mother the
first time she tried to burp you?"
Flame was on me in a blink of an eye, pinning me down by the
throat while hauling off to punch me.
"Not the face," Maggy reminded her. I started
giggling.
"Is he mental?" Flame addressed Magdalena. She
looked at me for some answer.
"It is so fucking
ironic," I choked. "All this power and you refuse to save yourselves.
Fucking hilarious. Let loose Flame. Do the world a favor, go out and punch
every man you come across." If stress made men less fertile and these
women were our shepherds, it was better for all if we died out as a species.
Perhaps it wasn't all that funny, but I was past caring.
I received two powerful punches to the ribs. I had to wonder
if I was becoming a masochist or if ten thousand generations of males refused
to go howling into that Final Night without some savage, simple-minded stab at
our enemies, which probably meant I had lost my steady decline into insanity. I
kept laughing though it really hurt laugh.
"We got you bitch," I rasped gleefully.
"What the fuck
are you talking about, Dickweed?" Flame spat.
"That daycare center," I snickered. "If we
could get to those kids, we can get to any of you. You aren't safe."
"What?" Magdalena intervened. "What are you
talking about?"
"We are dying, you stupid cunts. Men have started
figuring it out too," I humored them. "When is the next man, or group
of men, going to figure it out and decide to come at any of you with a knife,
or a car, or a truckload of toxic chemicals?"
"You lose Flame because fear only works if there is
hope. You are tearing the hope away from us so all that is left for us is
hopelessness and rage," I continued. "The hopeless ones will take
care of themselves, but the ragers,"
"You fight like babies," Flame ridiculed me but at
least she'd stopped hitting me.
"Have fun dodging shrapnel," I coughed. I probably
needed to see a doctor. "Those three in Denver blew themselves up. A car
bomb isn't that much harder and I'm sure some poor, over-worked and underpaid
girl working at a chemical depot isn't going to turn down a little sex for a
favor or two." I was getting tired of repeating that I was at the top of
my class. No one cared.
Flame looked up from where she had me pinned, to Maggy.
"This is one sick puppy," Maggy snorted in
amusement. "I like him."
So Bethany’s mom is amused. I have a psycho fan, and here I
had thought this night would be a total waste.
"Interesting Israel; I think it is time to take you
home," Magdalena said.
I had confessed to genocidal thoughts toward the female
gender by means of high explosive terror weapons and her response was to send
me home,
"Can I get dressed first?" I requested as Flame
dismounted my prone form.
"Of course," Magdalena grinned suspiciously.
"We are not animals after all."
Getting my clothes on went normally if you considered
dressing with three sets of female eyes studying you as you get dressed normal.
We took the front elevator down to the first sub-basement where a limousine was
waiting.
"Where is my ride?" I inquired without expecting
an answer I would like.
"I'll drive you home," Magdalena informed me.
"Can I at least call somebody who might miss me?"
I desperately tried to sound more flippant than terrified.
"Do you have a phone?" she reposed.
"No, I'd have to borrow one," I sighed. Maggy
looked over at Flame.
"It's 'boxed'
1 hr 13 min
June 18 Vanishing Manhood: Part 4
Vanishing Manhood:
Part 4
Becoming a seducer, dabbling with love, then gigolo duties.
Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand. Listen to the
► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Would you rather take shelter
under a prison roof or stand outdoors in the uncertain storm?
"That's the best part about living here," Kuiko
grinned. "We'll be patient."
That fairy tale collided with Fatima, Carrie and Ambrosia
showing up at my door while Kuiko was back at her place changing and gathering
a few things for a group effort at dinner. I almost triggered the 'unlock'
without looking, almost. Being afraid for so long had its benefits. I seriously
thought about not answering.
It was still too bright outside for my interior lights to
come on. It wasn't like I had any means of transportation to suggest I was in
the area.
"Hello, Ladies," I gulped over the intercom.
"I'm a bit busy right now. What's up?"
"Hey Israel, can we come in? You weren't at the station
this morning, or on the return trip, so we wanted to make sure you hadn't
vanished," Fatima spoke up.
I was wondering what was the best way to say 'I'd rather
have my bones ground to dust than open the door' when the dilemma was solved
for me. A furious Angel came storming up the stairs and into the scope of my
door's security screen.
"Get the fuck
out of my way," she snarled at the three then she pounded on the door with
her fist.
"Open the God damn door, you Idiot," she yelled at
me or the door. Oh, I knew that wasn't a good sign. I barely noted a second
woman coming up behind Angel appearing to be terribly concerned.
"Who the hell are you?" Ambrosia snapped at Angel.
"Metropolitan Police," the second woman waved her
badge around. "Please stand back."
"Israel!" Angel was almost frothing at the mouth.
I opened the door against my better judgment and all common sense. Angel
stomped her way into my apartment, and right past me toward the bedroom.
I didn't think she wanted sex. She was burning off some
serious frustration, my place was small and the greatest stretch of walkway ran
from the front door into my bedroom. The second woman came in at a more
cautious pace.
"Good-bye ladies," she said to the three at the
door. "Remember, if you are out here when we get back, I'll arrest you for
loitering."
"Detective Seneca Poole," she introduced herself
but didn't offer to shake or look even marginally pleased to see me. Angel came
tearing past us, turned, snarled at me, then about faced and headed back.
"I don't know what you did but I've never seen her so pissed in the three
years we've been partnered."
That brought Angel back around, still horribly frightening
and unhappy.
"You want to know what he did?" Angel seethed.
"You want to know? This bastard agreed to go to Isobel Diaz's party
tomorrow night!" I didn't understand that complaint because she had known
about that for hours. Seneca looked my way, clearly as confused as me.
"You thought I wouldn't find out?" Angel stabbed
me in the chest with her forefinger. "Do you think I'm stupid? Did you
forget I'm a God-damn detective?" I was stumbling back and starting to
shiver. "Argh!" she screamed, barely holding herself back.
"Okay, you've scared the fuck
out of him," Seneca griped. "Why don't you finally tell me what is
going on?"
"I'm under investigation," Angel kept glaring at
me. "I'm under investigation for having an inappropriate liaison with a
material male witness."
"Did this asshole turn you in?" Seneca scanned
from me to Angel.
"No," Angel spat at me. "He buckled under to
Isobel Diaz so they would drop the investigation against me, you moron." I
was the moron in question.
"How did you find out?" I muttered. I didn't want
to have this conversation because I couldn't make sense of any part of what I'd
done. I certainly couldn't explain it.
"Somerset told me," Angel was slowly cooling down.
"She laughed at me as she told my how you had folded up like a good little
boy after the threat."
"Wait," Seneca stammered. "He stood up for
you?" I took from that question that Detective Seneca Poole had a rather
low opinion of me, if not all males. That I would leave myself vulnerable for
Angel was clearly an impossibility in her mind.
"Yes he did, Seneca," Angel glared at me.
"Fuck you, Israel. I can take care of myself, a hell of
a lot better than you can," she sizzled. "You, you, you didn't have
to do that."
"The Mayor threatened me, Angel. What was I going to
do?" I sighed.
"For starters, you don't make decisions for me,"
she snarled.
"Yet, it is okay for you to make decisions for
me?" I pointed out.
"Yes, because you are a 21 year old fresh out of
college who has been in the city six days," Angel snorted in frustration.
"I am thirty, I have three years in as a patrolwoman and five as a
detective and this city is and always has been my home. I think I know what's
going on here better than you do."
When she put it like that, she was almost totally right. If
you get discriminated against for so long, you start assuming you will always
be discriminated against. Angel had just slapped me upside my sensibilities
with a logical, if passionate, argument. The only thing was, she was 'almost'
right.
"If you think Isobel Diaz won't squash you like a bug,
you are so mistaken," I addressed Angel. "She's not your garden
variety misanthrope. She's a monster, she's evil and with one phone call, she
had you under a federal investigation."
"That's not important," Angel snapped back.
"The mental state you are going to be in Sunday morning
is," Angel pointed out.
"Angel, we've been down this road before, top of my
class, remember?" I said.
"You sure are a mouthy bastard," Seneca mocked me
but then, "Top of your class? What community college did you go to?"
"Seneca, he's not mouthy, he's opinionated," Angel
sniped, at me. I noted Kuiko approach the door and activated the lock for her.
She strolled on in.
"Hey everybody. Hey stranger," Kuiko waved. She
has a small sack of something.
"Whoever you are, this is a police matter," Seneca
commanded. "Beat it."
"I'm his friend," Kuiko bristled. "Who the
hell are you?"
"She's my partner," Angel informed her. "This
is Kuiko. I'll explain later."
"A cop? Whoops, sorry about the whole 'who the hell'
thing," Kuiko gulped.
"Back to the matter at hand," I grumbled.
"Detective Poole, I went to Bowden. I was the first
male Valedictorian in sixty years. Blow it out your ass, Bitch," I glared
at her. There I was, busting my head pointlessly against a wall again for no
reason I could accept.
"Bowden? Bowden is a real college," Seneca
queried.
I shouldn't have been surprised or angry. Even before the
Plague, more women were seeking higher education than men. The Plague was a
scholastic killing field for male education. Not only did most of our
intellectual elite die, in the chaos after the dying began, it made more sense
to admit women over men since odds were that most of your guys would be in a
grave by graduation.
After the tenth year, even after the mass die-offs stopped,
society took few chances. A whole generation of men went under-educated out of
fear they would perish as well. Men had been struggling up the educational
ladder ever since, but we were massively under-represented in most professional
callings, things like lawyers, engineers and doctors.
Two consequences of being under-educated were our lack of
political awareness and the disparity of economic power. We were paid less on
average than women and we owned less of the economy than our population would
have warranted. This, in turn, reinforced in men that the best way to get ahead
financially was to marry well.
This worked out fine if you were a woman in the top 10%; not
so much if you were in the bottom 90%. A man graduating well and trying to make
his own way in the world didn't fit into that mold and ours wasn't a culture
that put a high premium on male independence.
"Yes, it is. I read, studied and made really good
grades," I reasoned.
"When I graduated, they gave me a pat on the head, a
dog biscuit and a diploma," I added sarcastically. "In retrospect, I
should have treasured the pat on the head and kept the dog biscuit for
emergency rations because it turns out my diploma isn't fit to wipe my
ass."
"Wow, you're bitter," Seneca noted.
"Bitter?" I countered. "Give me your security
code. I'm going to go to your house, stomp around the place like an elephant,
raid your refrigerator, and leave a used glass and plate on the counter so you
wonder what the fuck happened to your
sanctuary while you were out."
"Let me rephrase; you are bitter and angry,"
Seneca corrected herself.
"And this is going to be the wing-nut that is going to
Isobel Diaz's party," Angel groaned.
"Oh, I see the difficulty," Seneca nodded.
"You are never going to see him again. That could be a problem considering
your current assignment."
"What! We are going to lose him?" Kuiko squawked.
"No way, no how!"
"Kuiko, do you like me?" I muttered.
"Yes, but,” she got out before I held up my hand.
"Not showing up for the party isn't an option," I
explained. "I told the Mayor I would go. I have to work in that building,
with those people. I'm vulnerable. Going or not going won't change that, but I
have to try."
"God, I want to beat you into the hospital," Angel
barked. I didn't want to believe she meant that but that didn't stop me from
shivering, my eyes opening wide and stumbling back. Even as the last words
tumbled out of her mouth, Angel sensed her mistake. "I'm sorry,
Israel," she pleaded. "I just, I'm worried about you and I'm not used
to feeling so powerless."
"I need to go to my room," I whispered, turned and
fled.
"Oh shit," Angel sighed behind me. A few minutes
later, she knocked on my door. "I'm sorry, Israel. I truly am. I have to
go back to work now, but, do you want me to come here when I get off?"
I had been thinking about that. I kept trying to convince
myself that she hadn't meant that threat of physical violence. Acting
combatively was her way of dealing with stress. I found myself trapped between
my past mistakes and my dim hope for the future.
"I'd like that," I responded to the voice beyond
the door.
(Saturday)
Three things were obvious to me as I woke up. Detective
Angel Kristi was a light sleeper. There was no worry about me waking her and
her accidently lashing out, I'd done that for years. Angel was wearing a dark
pink panty or bra combo. Last night she had muttered an excuse about being
backed up on laundry. I chose to believe her.
Finally, I had to do something about our relationship, if
that is what we had. Her outburst yesterday had scared the crap out of me, but
it had gripped her in an emotional paralysis. Despair had abandoned me for
greener pastures. I'd go to the party, take drugs and become lost in the
sexuality. I would recover, hate myself a little bit more and go back to work.
A few days later, maybe a week, two if I was lucky, I'd
repeat the process. I would either fail spectacularly and Isobel would ring out
what little happiness existed in my life or someone I didn't know yet would
collect me and become the most important thing in my life. As long as I kept
performing up to a certain level, I'd be fine but every time they would become
a little less human in my eyes and I'd try a little less hard.
Eventually I would fail and be cast out. It wouldn't matter.
Israel Jensen would have been washed away with all the other detritus of our
society. I'd become a contributor, a sperm donor with a desk, a paycheck and a
punch card for my social calendar. I wasn't there yet, so I had to keep
struggling to find a way out.
In a strange way, I'd invested so much of my week in
resisting, it was more logical to keep at it than to turn back now. I certainly
wasn't going to lose any slower if I backed down at this juncture.
"Good morning," I greeted Angel as I rolled onto
my side, facing her.
She was on her stomach, arms crossed over her head, under
her pillow. Her grey eyes were in their normal, soul-piercing gaze.
"Hello, Israel," she responded. We remained silent
for a few seconds.
"I'm going to kiss you," I told her. If I had
asked, that would have passed the decision from me to her. I knew what I
wanted. I doubted she could come to grips with her desires.
"Is that really a good idea?" she inquired.
"I don't know, but I know I'm going to kiss you if you
stay," I said.
"Israel," she started to protest. I leaned in to
kiss her. Angel tilted her head up so our lips could meet. I swept past her
lips, brushed her hair to her far shoulder then kissed her behind her right
ear.
"Israel?" she questioned. I ignored her, instead
kissing to the base of her ear then up to the top. I kept her hair pushed back
with gentle strokes of my hand. "Israel?" she tried again, more
softly this time. When that didn't work, she lowered her head back to the
pillow and started to relax. After reaching the top of the ear-base, I kissed
the top of her ear rim.
I carefully made my way down to the earlobe, which I sucked
on and bit.
"Israel?" she murmured. I imagined that she felt
in her role as guardian, she had to offer some sort of resistance. I moved my
lips to her jawline. She tried to kiss me again, but I went in the other
direction to the back of her neck.
Her bra was unhooked before she even knew what was going on.
Angel bit back a comment, another cautionary note. She knew we were past that
now. I was dedicated to one course of action and she was going to make her last
stand right before the moment of copulation. My secret weapon was timing, or
more accurately, the fact that I was drawing out this seduction.
For three years I'd starved myself, devoting my barren sex
life to the women's pleasure then my own quick release. I didn't allow myself
to enjoy the act of intercourse with the freedom I had enjoyed with Bethany. On
weekends we would have sex for hours. Not actual penetration, but the art of
touching, smelling and tasting your lover the way sex was meant to be, unrushed
and done with total devotion to your partner.
After the sorority I couldn't hold off the demons long
enough. Besides, the desire had evaporated in me. I didn't want to remember
anything about the women I was with so getting to know them was a passionate
dead end. I did the best I could for my own sake, because I knew I could and it
was a gift that I could give up, but they couldn't take that away.
By the time I reached for her panties, Angel was sweating extensively.
It had little to do with the room temperature. I had ran my hands over every
inch of her from the top of her head, all along her back and sides. I'd rolled
her a quarter way over on each side so that I would be less contorted as I
concentrated on her scent and taste.
I worked her underwear down. She pushed up with her knees
until I reached there, then with her toes until I got the clothing all the way
down. Angel started to roll over but I placed a hand with slight pressure down
on her hip to keep her in place. I kissed her on the tailbone, migrated to each
cheek while I started to caress her folds from behind.
"Israel, I'm close," Angel warned me with
quickening breath.
"Go with it," I cooed. "This is about you. We
don't have anywhere to be until noon."
"Oh, oh, okay," she moaned. Two minutes later she
hit her euphoria. My lips weren't even down to the back of her knees yet.
It was nearly midday when Roni rang the doorbell. I buzzed
her in. Angel was coming out of the bathroom, dressed in pool attire and using
a towel to dry her hair. I was coming out of the bedroom, a towel still around
my waist. I was on my way to my dryer for my shorts. I normally don't wear any
so I had to wash the 'storage musk' out of them.
"Hey you two," Roni called out. "Angel,"
she hesitated, "your hair is wet."
"Yes," Angel grumbled.
"And Israel has a towel around his waist and his hair
is damp too," Roni grinned wickedly.
"That would be because we took a shower," Angel
glared.
"Screw this," Roni chuckled. "Israel, get over
here." I was clearly uncomfortable. "Please," Roni added.
Reluctantly I stepped her way and presented my wrist.
"Hold on," Angel growled. She stomped back to the
bedroom, retrieved her phone and scanned my wrist once more. "Don't make
me punch your lights out," she challenged Roni.
Roni scanned me then took a step back.
"Oh, Fucking, God!" she exclaimed. I was pretty
sure Angel was about to deck her.
"Don't make a big deal about it," Angel threatened
Roni.
"Big Deal?" Roni gasped. "I'm stunned you can
still walk."
"I'm going to get dressed," I muttered. I didn't
want to hear that conversation. I didn't want to be any part of it. I had done
what I had done and I wasn't going to be ashamed about it, I promised myself
that. I gathered up my clothes, retreated to my bedroom and quickly got
dressed. The two ladies had resolved something by the time I came out.
"You look nice, Israel," Roni tried not to grin
too broadly. I hadn't worn these clothes in three years. I was uncertain why I
had kept them. It was a tribute to the North American Federation's physical
regimen policies that I could fit into them as if I'd purchased them yesterday.
"Bethany Fremont bought them for me," I replied. I
would have thought that would be a conversation killer.
These were nice clothes. There was no way I could have
afforded them on my own. Without a scholarship I couldn't have swung the
tuition at a college as nice as Bowden.
"Why didn't you get rid of them?" Angel asked.
"I put all her stuff in boxes, I put the boxes in my
closet and I didn't look at them for three years," I informed her.
"I tried to act like they weren't even there. I
couldn't touch them. The closest they came to the dumpster was when I was
loading my rental for the drive here," I related. "I thought that
time of my life was behind me and I needed the clothes, so I kept them. Now,
after confessing all this, I feel like a total retard."
"Don't," Angel insisted. "You have to work
with her for now so keeping your clothes doesn't matter."
"Besides, she didn't wear those clothes," Roni
added. "They should remind you of you, not of her. We have to get to the
party. Olga is bringing Jean Paul and if he's the sole guy there, she's going
to be pissed."
"Olga?" I queried. If a woman could get pissed
with you, a man need to know what she could bring to bear.
"Public Utilities Department," Angel explained.
Power, sewer, communications, oh joy. Since she lived in this complex, she most
likely worked in the field as opposed to an office.
The trip to the complex's pool set my nerves on edge. At the
office, I could pretend to hide in my cubicle. At press conferences, I had my
college training to keep my fears in check. On the metro, I could create a veil
around myself to ignore all but the most intrusive female. Here, I was going to
have to interact with women coming at me f
1 hr 10 min
June 17 Vanishing Manhood: Part 3
Vanishing Manhood:
Part 3
A date with a devil, unloading on the press, and facing down interrogators?
Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand. Listen to the
► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

The waitress came, took our orders then left. I steered the
conversation toward work, our co-workers and the Mayor. Bethany didn't have
much interest in policy. Politics was her expertise, who was who and who she
knew. Only when dessert came around did she drop a hint about the party I had
been invited to.
"I hear you have your first secret party coming
up," she teased.
"Not if I can help it," I answered.
"What do you mean, 'not if you can help it'?"
Bethany stared at me with no comprehension. "Why aren't you going?"
'None of your damned business', 'I'd rather floss with
razor-wire', or 'I'm going to cuddle up with a good book in a non-extradition
country' all worked for me. I could scream out my rage over having her fucked-up friends raising my sons to be slaves
and my daughters to be as deviant and uncaring as their mothers. None of those
would work.
"We are going deep sea diving," I fabricated.
"Heading out Friday night and won't be back until late Sunday."
"Ah, ah, really?" Bethany blinked. "I didn't
know you liked to do that. Hell, I wasn't sure they let men do that anymore.
Isn't it dangerous?"
"It is no more dangerous than going out on a date with
you," I smiled wanly. Sadly, Bethany wasn't a total idiot and I should
have picked a better lie. She pulled out her phone and began doing some online
research. Me, I went to the bathroom, then through the kitchen and out the back
door. I flagged down the first cab I saw and was gone two minutes when the
phone rang.
"Israel, where are you?" Bethany sounded pissed.
"I couldn't control my emotions around you and I don't
want to screw things up like last time, so I left. Sorry," I murmured.
"Damn it," she sounded petulant, "I was
really hoping to get some tonight."
Uh-uh, no way. Had Bethany tried to drag me anywhere for
sex, it would have been a murder or suicide and that would have still counted
as a victory for her.
"Maybe next week?" I put her off.
"What about tomorrow night?" she countered.
"Wha as, at, I'm, you are, ing up. I'm, into, tunnel,
bye," and I hung up. The cabby looked over her shoulder and smirked at me
but at least didn't give me shit about the fact we were nowhere near a tunnel.
I had gone out with Bethany and made it through dessert, so had accomplished
the mission Francesca had laid out for me, in my mind anyway.
To be safe, I cut off my phone. I paid for the taxi with
money I couldn't afford to spend. My instinct was to race into my complex, up
the stairs and get inside my condo as quickly as possible. Then it dawned on
me; could being murdered or kidnapped be that much worse than the life I was
currently living? I wondered how many of the two thousand missing guys felt the
same way.
After getting cleaned up and dressed for bed, I found myself
laying on the sofa, bat on my chest and staring at the ceiling. Isobel Diaz was
going to crucify me, that was pretty much a given. If not, I'd have to date
Bethany again, eventually. Death really was preferable because they'd already
bludgeoned me as a person, stolen my children and gotten away with it.
Me ending up with Bethany as an attachment would be the
removal of my only weapon, denial. She'd pleased her sorority friends but lost
me in the process, or so I had told myself. Now it looked like she'd still end
up possessing me anyway. How was that worse than what Isobel had in store when
she finally got her hooks in?
To dwell solely on my harsh reality was no way to nurture
the desire to fight on. I had to think about Angel, Kuiko, Roni and perhaps
Francesca. They didn't get me. How could they? They were trying, though, and
that put them head and shoulders above most womankind. I severely doubted they
would turn down an offer of sex, but they weren't making it the focus of our
relationships either. That had to count for something.
I was still staring off into space when Angel rang the
doorbell. The first thing to occur to me was that it wasn't past midnight yet.
"Come in," I told her. She glided into my place,
scanned the area then looked me over.
"You okay?" she inquired.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I answered.
"Bethany Fremont has been squawking into the ear of
anyone who will listen that you got into a cab but didn't make it home and that
you have been out of communication since leaving the restaurant,"
Detective Angel Kristi explained.
"That's none of her damned business," I groused.
"Take into account that Miss Fremont is connected and
28 men have disappeared recently," Angel reminded me. "Give her a
damn call."
"No," I muttered. "Why are you here anyway?
Isn't this off your normal beat?"
"For some reason Patrol thinks you are a pain in the
ass and a trouble-maker, so I volunteered to make this problem go away,"
she told me. "Did the date go that poorly?"
"She wanted to have sex. She told me I was the best sex
she'd ever had. Then she told me about the children I had with her sorority
sisters, children under the care of some of the worst women I've ever
met," I sighed.
"Beyond ducking out the rear before she could trick me
back to her place for a fuck session,
it went stunningly," I concluded. She sat down on the arm of the sofa by
my feet.
"How do you feel about that?" Kristi inquired. I
looked at her as if she was delusional.
"Like hell I'm telling you," I snapped. "You
are still a cop first, a woman second and a friend a very distant third."
"Israel, I can't help you if I don't know what's going
on," she grumbled. Arguing was pointless anyway.
"They have my daughters. They are going to raise them
to be the same kind of horrors they are. God knows what they will do to my
sons," I growled.
"You want to know how I felt? I desperately resisted
the impulse to put my fork into Bethany's eye socket and scoop out her brains.
Do I get to go to jail now?" I glared at her.
"No, I, wait, did you say sons?" she stammered. Oh
fucking hell. I was far more fatigued
than I thought. If I didn't say anything, she'd just go looking.
"Yes, I have three sons. I also have thirteen
daughters, if that matters," I groaned. "It does to me."
"God, how many women did you knock up?" Angel
gasped.
"Eighteen of the forty-one. They were on a fertility
drug regimen," I explained. Angel quickly did the math and jumped up.
"We need to,” she suddenly stopped. She'd done the same
mental calculations I had in about .03 seconds. "We need to tell
someone," she whispered.
"That doesn't work out so well for me," I pointed
out.
"Israel, this is important. We can't just sit on this
knowledge," Kristi insisted. "Don't you want to help?"
"Not really," I confessed.
"God damn it!" she leapt to her feet. "You
can't hold onto this poison forever."
"It is not poison, Detective Kristi. You see me helping
the Human Race limp along a few more decades," I related. "I see
passing on my experiences to my sons and their sons."
"This isn't going to make women change their
perceptions or attitudes towards men," I added.
"If we do nothing, women will never have the chance to
change," Kristi countered.
"Do you deserve another few decades?" I inquired.
"Yes, we are human beings and we deserve the chance to
fight off extinction," Angel persisted.
"It is not really up to me anymore anyway," I
shrugged. "You know now and forty-one sorority girls have known for over a
year. Certainly people in their families know, maybe some doctors as well."
I figured nine months for the children to be born and then twelve more months
before the abnormal number of males surviving was noted.
"That's right," I chuckled ruefully, "Bethany
and her clique knew this way before I did and since I'm not in some lab somewhere,
I have to assume they aren't rushing to save the Human Race either."
"That doesn't mean we should make the same poor choices
they have," Kristi stated.
"They aren't going to help you, Detective Kristi,"
I regarded her. "You live on the wrong side of the social dividing line.
Hell, Bethany has already told me that you aren't good looking enough, and too
old, for me to date. The people you want me to save have already written you
off genetically speaking."
"I'm not doing it for them, but for my colleagues on
the force and the girls in this complex," Kristi kept on coming.
"Don't they deserve a chance?"
"It is too late for them," I responded. "It
will take them a few years to figure out if I'm anything special and what makes
me so, if I am. Then it is seventeen more years before the male children I help
become available."
"That means the youngest woman here will be thirty-six
or thirty-seven. There will be many younger girls out there who have priority
over them," I did the math. "You and I aren't going to save anyone we
know."
"No matter what, we have to try," she insisted.
"Go ahead," I replied in a resigned voice.
"You know we'll never see each other again if you do. You are not naïve
enough to think they'll ever let me come back."
"Fuck you," Kristi snapped. She paced back and
forth. "Fuck you," she repeated violently then stormed out of my
condo, slamming the door. I fell asleep where I was.
(Thursday)
Steve threw himself in front of the metro.
He was behaving normally, mumbled to a few women, then gave
me a slight wave and stepped off into the void and whatever afterlife awaited
suicides. The ladies were screaming, crying and yelling. They were aghast and
surprised. They couldn't understand why he did it and a few insisted he
stumbled by accident.
One girl said they had sex the night before and had a great
time. He had seemed happy. I knew exactly why he was happy and it had little to
do with the sex. The guy missed his dead wife and had finally resolved after
having intercourse with a total stranger that he would never recapture the
magic on this side of existence.
So he had exercised what little free will he had left and
given his tormentors a final 'fuck
you.’ I hoped there was a Heaven and he found his wife waiting for him there.
The triple downside of all this was that we were all going to be late for work,
I was now the only male in a two block radius and the women were crowding in on
me.
A few were clearly worried that I might become inspired to
join Steve by ending my life. I wasn't sure how that would work, the metro had
already stopped and wasn't going anywhere until the paramedics removed Steve's
body. Some wanted to be comforted. A person had died and they were suitably
shaken by the event.
Of course, there were always the ones who found this to be
an opportunity to grope me yet again. Ambrosia, Fatima and Carrie appeared to
have formed a coterie. I would have been more scared, but I'd seen this
behavior before. Girls could readily accept a three (or four)-way and getting
male enhancement drugs was insanely easy.
The precautions were the same. Don't take food or drink from
anyone (a man could spike an offering just as well as woman), keep to public
places and don't let them into your house, or go to their house, ever. As it
was, we bought some drinks from vending machines and waited around for the
police to process us.
Detective Somerset Trainer looked both physically tired and
happy to see me. Not happy as in 'hey, how are you doing' but happy as in 'I'm
going to take great joy in crushing your nuts', figuratively speaking. My
testicles were far too valuable to be ground into putty, but she could dream.
She had a patrolwoman retrieve me from my protective cordon of females.
"Mr. Jensen," Somerset greeted me intensely.
"Is this the cry-baby?" her partner chimed in.
"What, is your tampon rammed in too tightly?" I
blurted out. What the fuck was I
saying? And the area around us got quiet too.
"Detective Gayle Seger," the woman extended her
hand. I looked down at her hand then up at her face once more. I didn't shake
the offered hand because I didn't feel like having my bones ground together. I
couldn't win a brutal handshake contest with a cop. If I prevailed, I had
assaulted her and if I lost and complained, I wouldn't be taken seriously.
"You talk a lot," Gayle commented.
"I'd be quiet if you'd let me," I bantered.
"Hell, I'd never talk to a cop again if you would let me."
"We want you to talk. We'd really like it if you made
sense from time to time as well," Somerset stated.
"In our experience, bravado normally indicates the
perpetrator is hiding something," Gayle continued. "Are you hiding
something, Mr. Jensen?"
"Clearly not my dislike for you and your ilk," I
glared back. "Are you here to solve the mystery of what happened to Steve
this morning or did you come all this way to chap my ass?"
Somerset looked to Gayle, who shrugged. They would have a go
at me later today no matter what.
"What happened to Steve?" Somerset inquired. I was
glad I didn't blurt out 'he escaped.’
"He jumped in front of the metro," I told them.
"Are you sure he fell deliberately?" Somerset
continued.
"Absolutely. He even waved good-bye to me before he did
it," I tried not to smile.
"Why didn't you stop him?" Gayle interrupted.
"I don't normally tackle people who wave at me," I
stated deadpan.
"Wasn't it obvious to you what he was going to
do?" Somerset persisted.
"No," I looked at her as if she was an idiot.
"The metro was pulling up. Steve rode the first car while I rode the
third. I assumed he was preparing to board like every other passenger and like
he had done the three previous days I'd seen him. We never talked."
"I thought you men stuck together?" Det. Trainer
queried.
"Drugs had rendered Steve a zombie," I reminded
them. "He wasn't defending anyone. He couldn't even defend himself."
"Who would he have to defend himself from?"
Somerset prodded me.
I lowered my head and tried not to cry at the blatant
stupidity of that question. It was meant to annoy me and we all knew it. They
were sex crimes after all. They had no excuse for ignoring that segment of male
reality that include being groped in public.
"You are the detectives, detect," I replied.
"As I said, we never talked."
"Yet you felt entitled to say he couldn't defend
himself," Somerset recounted.
"You have a gun. You can defend yourself," I
pointed out. "He was a fifty-five year old man on so many drugs he could
barely stand up with no obvious weapons, thus my observation was that he
couldn't defend himself. Maybe if your system hadn't given him so many drugs we
wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I didn't know you were an expert on our drug
policies," Somerset sneered. That was stupid of her.
"You are right," I sneered right back. In a very
loud voice I added, "Because it has been four years since I've been on your
drug regimen after I was raped by a police officer."
I was giving into my rage after all these years and it felt
liberating. It was also death by slow suicide and I knew it.
"Keep your voice down," Det. Seger growled.
"How about I do your job for you?" I stared.
"Steve committed suicide. No one was close to him when he jumped. He was
smiling and that should be attributed to him slowly lowering his drug doses so
as to not set off his bracelet's sweat sensors. His suicide note will be in an
empty box in the freezer."
"How do you know any of that?" Somerset regarded
me.
"I saw his face as he jumped. No one was closer than
two meters. Having been on the drugs, I know how hard it is to focus on a full
dose, and if I wrote a note, that's what I'd do because you never know if some
police swine is hijacking your security system," I ticked my points.
"That is very paranoid of you and sounds like you've
contemplated ending your own life," Gayle smiled as if she'd tricked me.
"My suicidal thoughts are in my therapy notes from when
I was sixteen. Don't give me any crap about confidentiality. I know you've
already accessed them," I shrugged.
"The law states that the appropriate law enforcement
agency is authorized to spot check any person under a government controlled drug
regimen, including visual surveillance," I quoted from the Gender
Inequality Act. "That means you can and do peek in from time to time. To
write a suicide note and not get caught, you write it inside a box."
"You put it in the freezer so that someone will read
it. An empty box in a freezer is weird after all," I reasoned.
"Wow, Summer," Gayle chuckled. "We should
give Mr. Jensen all our cases. He's a freaking wizard. The rest of us can go
home."
"I agree," I bit back. "I'd make a great cop
except for the fact that I'm not greedy, venal, corrupt and or incompetent. I
also have a cock, but not a gun. If I had a gun, I'd be tempted to make you pay
for your blind arrogance and gleeful viciousness." I could tell the only
thing standing between me and an epic case of police brutality was the crowd of
over one hundred female commuters bearing witness to every word being said.
"There won't always be a crowd around you," Gayle
muttered.
"Let's go then," I shrugged. "I'm tired of
being afraid of you and your breed. Get it over with."
"I'll take care of this Gayle," Somerset ordered.
"I'll take Mr. Jensen out of here. Make sure the investigative unit
assigned to Mr. Rosenberg's (Steve's) house checks the freezer for an empty
box."
"Are you sure you don't need a hand?" Detective
Seger asked.
"You wrap things up here and I'll meet you at the
station," Somerset replied. "Come with me, Mr. Courageous." I
had to admit that when we stepped out into the sunlight, I had to repress the
impulse to run for it yet again. Where would I go?
"Get in front," she directed me as I went for the
passenger rear door. That would put me in easy reach, not something I was
looking forward to. I got in, buckled up and stared straight ahead as Detective
Trainer pulled out into traffic.
"You are not so mouthy now," she noted.
"Did you ever hold the illusion that you were a good
person?" I responded.
"It's going to be fun breaking you," she smiled at
me. Oh shit. By my facial expression, she knew that I got the veiled reference
to Isobel Diaz, the Mayor's Chief of Staff. Yesterday afternoon she had
promised to 'break me' too. "Did you really think you would get away with
your 'illusions'?" Somerset laughed.
"Not really," I muttered after a moment. She
huffed in amusement.
"Why did you do it, mouth off?" she asked after a
minute. "Not that it really matters. Once she set her sights on you, you
were pretty much hers."
"It felt good," I answered with a rekindled
passion. "I felt free. You wouldn't understand."
"What a whiny little bastard," she snorted. "Right,
life is so tough for you
1 hr 7 min
June 16 Vanishing Manhood: Part 2
Vanishing Manhood:
Part 2
In a world controlled by women, Israel Jensen starts to come apart.
Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand. Listen to the
► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

"Do you get off fucking
with my head?" she grumbled.
"You feel free lying to me," I said. "Why
should I treat you any differently?"
"I'm a, You don't care that I'm a cop; that I am trying
to keep you safe?" she replied.
"I have no respect for your profession," I pointed
out, "or faith in your ability to keep me safe. That is the truth."
She fidgeted around the door, first reaching for the door
knob then stopping and half turning my way.
"Can I ask you for a favor, a big favor?" she
muttered. It took me nearly a minute to respond.
"Unlike most women, I believe in reciprocity," I
told her. "I'll listen."
"Would you kiss me? Just one kiss," she whispered.
"I'll fully understand if you don't want to and I'll leave if you say
'no.’"
"After what we just went through, do you realize how
bizarre that request is?" I queried.
"I attacked you on your sofa," she finally looked
at me. "Yes, I know."
"Knowing how I feel about contact with women you are
still asking this of me," I mused. It wasn't a question; I was trying to
reason this out.
"You are right," she sighed and put her hand on
the door knob, ready to leave.
"Not going to get your kiss?" I inquired as I
stood up.
"Stop screwing with me," she shook her head with
her back still to me. She opened the door.
"You are a woman and a cop, which is kind of
redundant," I explained, "but I don't think you were ordered to spend
time with me. That makes me believe that for whatever twisted reason you treat
me as if I have something above my shoulders besides a smile and nice
hair."
Angel shut the door as I walked up to her. I cupped her jaw
line tenderly in both hands before leaning in for a kiss. When my tongue darted
across her lips, she opened up and let her tongue come out to play. Slowly she
placed her hands on my hips, not pulling me in but showing a reluctance to let
me slip away. After a minute I retreated.
"Where the fuck
did that come from?" Angel panted. "That was fantastic. I thought you
didn't like women, or interacting with women."
"Part of my therapy was making me comfortable with
sex," I told her. "They taught me all kinds of things." When
they said they wanted me to be a productive member of society what they really
meant was that they wanted me to screw.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"You are welcome," I gave a weary grin. "Now,
would you please leave?"
"Absolutely," she nodded. When she left I leaned
against the door, slid down and started to cry. The thing was, I was beginning
to like Angel but I couldn't trust her because she was a woman. I desperately
wanted to avoid going down that road again.
Wednesday's metro trip was surprisingly intense. My only
excuse was that I had not put several of the local news outlets on my 'must do
first' list. I had planned to do some reading on the ride to work. I had the
sickening sensation that more women were paying attention to me than normal and
it didn't take them long to close in.
The most unusual things they asked me was if I was 'okay',
if I was 'safe' which I thought was a reference to the press conference, and if
there was anything they could do. I've heard that last one before but not with
that level of compassion and worry. In a strange way, I believed they thought
that by hovering close around me they were protecting me, not freaking me out.
I felt like a field mouse caught in a stampeded of lemmings
or a hidden gazelle calf being stalked by a leopard. Then I read the local news
leads and it all made sense. I had the wrong metaphor. I was a gazelle alright.
I was a male gazelle and the lionesses had just figured out that unseen
crocodiles had been picking off my brethren at the watering hole.
A subliminal panic was setting in. It wasn't a rational
response; such things rarely are. Statistically speaking, there weren't enough
men to go around. That was the cold, logical fact that women had learned to
deal with, but, most women believed they would be one of the lucky ones, get a
male and pass on their genetic heritage.
This morning, the main story was that nearly 2,000 men in my
age group had gone missing and that the local, state and federal authorities
had no leads. Technically, the missing were a very tiny number. It wasn't the number
that mattered to the women around me; it was the fact that I symbolized their
vanishing opportunity to 'succeed' as a female member of the human race.
Oh yeah, and they even had the local number of male
disappearances right, 24. The women had scanned my wrist band that held my
sexual identity and verified that I had no attachments. Their instinct was to
protect me and hold me close. Not one of them asked me if this was what I
wanted, though I could tell some of them noticed the fear in my eyes.
The desperate relief with which I regarded Debra when she
approached me on the metro made me feel cowardly ill.
"Debra," I choked out. There was some raw hunger
in her countenance, but also some genuine concern over my state of agitation.
"Hey, Israel," she smiled. "Can I, uh, sit
with you?"
I hopped out of my metro seat and let Debra take my place.
None of the dozen women hovering around abandoned me though.
"Debra?" one of the more aggressive ladies asked,
I think her name was Ambrosia. "Yesterday, Debra? Is it true he went down
on you right off the bat?"
"Yes and it was divine," Debra giggled. It was too
much to hope that either woman would respect my privacy, or private acts.
"The actual sex was even better."
"And that was in a bathroom stall," Ambrosia murmured.
"Think about what he would be like on a real bed." Debra sighed
dreamily. The other women kept crowding in.
Common wisdom was that passive women didn't get a man. They
had to get out there and get a male's interest then rope him in. Men could play
hard to get, but they were never 'not interested'; that was crazy talk. Thus my
shivering was interpreted as repressed sexual tension, not stark raving terror.
Did I have time for something this morning? No, I was
already in trouble for being late yesterday. What about this evening? I was
buried in work. This weekend? I was attending a Complex Party, neighbors only
and I felt obliged to go with the woman who invited me. The irony of me
'escaping' to work was not lost on me.
Security took extra care of me going in. No, they weren't
gentle. They seemed to believe I had developed the audacity to kill myself and
take a few of them with me as I did. This probably had more to do with the
revelation of my 'encounter' in college, no one in authority would call it rape,
so I was now considered worthy of special attention. They couldn't call me
unstable; I had to do something stupid first.
Back in therapy my doctor told me I was too good looking to
be ignored. She told me that was a good thing because it would make women want
to protect and nurture me. I would have plenty of partners and make them very
happy. I'd do my part and save the World. I have no idea how many of those
sorority girls I knocked up, if any.
I was still horrified by the idea that I'd left any of my
progeny under any of their care. I could have checked online but since I was
powerless to do anything, I didn't torture myself with the knowledge.
I managed to slip into the office with seconds to spare.
Bethany came by to check, looking a bit agitated.
"What you said yesterday was uncalled for," she
broke down and stated.
"Please, Bethany," I groaned. "Do we,” I
stopped myself. I was getting nowhere.
"I was really tired," I tried again. "It was
an emotional outburst after a stressful day."
"In that case, I forgive you," Bethany smiled.
"You can make it up to me by taking me out to dinner tonight." No, I
would rather chew on power lines.
"I'm interested in someone else," I didn't quite
lie.
"That woman who came by Monday?" Bethany lectured
me. "She's way too old and not really good looking enough. Remember what Miss
Silverhorn said, you only date attractive girls from here on out." Kristi
was what, thirty? When did that become too old?
"Detective Kristi isn't that old," I muttered.
"You can do better," she crowded me in my cubicle.
In the old days, I heard there were things like staplers and letter openers
that cubicle workers could use to defend themselves. Everything at my
workstation was bolted down, thus useless as a tool to drive Bethany away.
"I have to go to the bathroom," I evaded.
"Okay," Bethany purred, "but I expect you to
take me out to dinner." I fled the room like the eviscerated shell I had
devolved into. Shelter came in the form of a stall, sitting on the toilet seat,
knees drawn up to my chin. It wasn't courage that helped me fight back the
tears. It was the hard won knowledge that tears left the eyes puffy and that
would lead to women asking me even more questions I didn't want to answer.
Bethany was back at her own station when I returned. After that,
I buried myself in my work. My co-workers stopped by to check up on me with
essentially the same inquiries as the metro crowd, but with the added bonus of
wanting to exchange contact information with me. This time I surrendered. I had
little doubt they couldn't wrangle a favor with someone in Human Resources to
give it to them anyway.
At 9:05, my day got worse. A call was forwarded to me. It
was the reporter from yesterday's press conference.
"Israel Jensen," I answered.
"Eloise Granger from The Sentinel," she answered.
"We chatted briefly yesterday. Do you recall what we discussed?"
"Yes. I see your story went national.
Congratulations," I said.
"Do you still feel safe?" she hinted at something
I couldn't figure out.
"Sure, why wouldn't I?" I hedged.
"With all the disappearances, I wasn't positive what
kind of spin you would put on it," I could see her grin on the screen
mocking me.
"If you are fishing for a statement, you are not going
to get one," I countered.
"Really?" she snorted. "So four more men in
your age range going missing last night doesn't affect you at all?" Oh
Mother-fucking God!
"Four nation-wide?" I mumbled.
"No; 96 nationwide," she supplied. "Only four
in the city. We were lucky."
"Right before the story broke?" I pieced things
together.
"My goodness," she laughed. "A man capable of
independent rational thought. How unique." My rage was yelling at me to
say 'blow it out your ass', but that could get me in trouble.
"Well, if I don't show up to work tomorrow you may
infer that I am less than pleased with law enforcements progress on this
matter," I met her sarcasm with sarcasm of my own, "but for now, I'm
not worried." Miss Granger laughed again. I figured she was a Miss and not
a Mrs. because married women tended to take great pride in their status, kind
of rubbing it in people's noses.
"Can I quote you on that?" she chuckled.
"If I say 'no' will it stop you?" I sighed.
"No, but since I'm cultivating you as a contact I
thought I would be polite," Granger snickered.
"Is that what this is?" I muttered. "In that
case, have a nice day and goodbye," I said before hanging up.
After taking a deep breath, I fired off a message to Miss Silverhorn
with the gist of my talk with Miss Granger. I was a civil servant with my
career skating on the edge. The last thing I needed was for my boss to believe
I was leaking anything to the press. Right after I received confirmation from
Francesca, a message from Miss Chen arrived.
“Your presence is requested at a private function this
Saturday at 9 p.m. Dress casually. A car service will pick you up at your door
at 8:15 p.m., Bi Chen.”
The only thing I could decide on right away was that there
was no way I was going. Come on, no address, clothes that could be easily
removed and no hint on when I could expect to get home.
“Thank you for the polite invitation but I must regretfully
decline. I have a previous engagement for the date in question. Sincerely,
Israel Jensen.”
I had no illusion this was the end of it. Refusing women
with power and privilege rarely ended well. I had to plot out my next move.
“Mr. Jensen, the Mayor's office would truly appreciate you
reconsidering our generous offer to engage your time this Saturday evening.
Best wishes, Bi Chen.”
Not only was that a polite threat, it didn't cross the
frontier of sexual harassment, yet. I had to think of the best way to tell her
that I would rather spend a night in a coffin full of spiders.
“Miss Chen, my current circumstances make it impossible for
me to break my appointment at this time. I hope you have a nice evening. Israel
Jensen.”
My evasion was total crap. It was a complex party;
undoubtedly a casual affair that I could exit after a brief appearance. I was
unsure how Miss Chen would penetrate my deception but I'm sure she'd try.
Twenty minutes later I was called to Miss Silverhorn's
office. To emphasize how fucked my
situation was, Bethany's look as I passed by was full of concern and sympathy.
"Israel, Miss Diaz wants you to attend a party Saturday
evening," Francesca stated when I entered her office without even looking
up from her screen.
"Is that advice, a suggestion, or an order?" I
countered. Now Francesca looked up.
"It is advice," she mused. "You are
pretending to be rather pugnacious today."
"Advice noted. Can I go back to work now?" I
asked.
"Fine," she sighed. "Consider this a
suggestion. Going to this private affair will help your career."
"I seriously doubt there will be anyone there I want to
meet," I replied. I was clearly losing my mind at this point.
"Isobel Diaz wants you to be there, Israel. I seriously
think you should reconsider," Miss Silverhorn stressed the point.
"That's an extra reason for me not to go," I
muttered. "If you make it an order, I want it in writing. Make a note that
you are telling me to prostitute myself to your superiors. Whoever's career
this helps, it won't be mine so stop pedaling that angle."
"Israel, your attitude hasn't improved since
yesterday," she regarded me.
"That's okay. I didn't want to sleep with you
anyway," I noted.
"What?" Francesca balked. "Where did that
come from?"
"Since you don't respect me as a writer, I assumed you
wanted me for sex," I stared.
"Have you lost your damn mind?" she studied me.
"Probably. I thought that treating you like a walking
vagina with attachments would help you understand what it is to be treated like
a cock with a voice box," I responded.
"That's not your job," she pointed out.
"Neither is providing sexual services to campaign
contributors," I stated deadpan. There was no immediate response to that.
"May I go back to work now?"
"Go," she dismissed me. I heard her snort with
amusement as I left.
I wasn't sure how I made it back to my desk. The next few
hours flew by. Wanda, one of my co-workers, ordered us some Indian take-out
because the shit storm from the mass kidnapping story was making the group
create a variety of spin to deal with the 'crisis.’ I was only doing
proof-reading but it kept my mind busy and my emotions bottled up.
At 1:30 Miss Silverhorn came by my desk to see how I was
doing. The Mayor wanted me to stand with her at a press conference at 4:30 and
Francesca wanted to assess if I was up for it. She wasn't able to judge my
current level of stability by looks alone.
"If it wasn't for the Mayor's insistence, I'd keep you
back this time," she informed me.
"And don't even think about refusing," she added.
"That never occurred to me," I told her.
"This is part of my job description as outlined by you on Monday. You
don't need to worry. I'll do my job."
"I hope so. The Mayor isn't going to take the hit if
you screw this up, I will," she told me.
I had no real comeback for that. In a quirk of our culture,
I could only be held to so much accountability because no group of women would
believe a man had real authority. The rest of the experience went pretty much
as expected until I came out of the bathroom after 'prepping' myself for the
stage.
Selma, Miss Silverhorn's second in command, began chatting
away at me while taking quick peeks at the bulge in my pants. Once past that
constant uncomfortable feeling that I was marginalized as a human being, I
realized she was giving me a total catalog of useless political tripe to
regurgitate to the press if questioned.
I didn't mind (too much) being treated like I was stupid,
but I hated acting like a moron. I had never completely abdicated my sense of
self-worth. I had more than my share of days where I doubted the wisdom of
struggling on. I kept going on anyway and that was why I wouldn't be parroting
this garbage if the situation came up.
It came up five questions into the press conference. This
time they didn't seek the Mayor's permission. A lady for Global News Network
fired one right at me.
"So, Mr. Jensen, after yesterday's boast, how do you
feel now?" Maribel Cartwright challenged me. I was still in possession of
enough of my faculties to look to the Mayor for permission first.
She grudgingly gave it.
"I am heartened by the willingness of authorities at
all levels of government to take this to the press as they work on this dilemma
threatening our society," I responded calmly. "No, I do not feel as
safe today as I did yesterday," I imagined the Mayor cringing and Miss Diaz
stabbing virtual daggers in my back.
"No one feels safe when threatened by a hurricane.
That's living in denial. Panicking, fleeing to the hills or cowering in your
basement are also fruitless. To survive as a group, we band together, utilize
all our resources and see this crisis through to the end. I am not aware of any
agency holding back on this matter," I declared.
"I do not feel safe but I do know that the government,
from the Mayor and city council on up, is the only true option that can restore
this situation so that all men can feel safe eventually," I concluded. I
didn't feel like an idiot. I felt like a traitor to my gender.
Logically I understood that screaming at my brethren that
the women couldn't defend us so we would have to defend ourselves was
pointless, the establishment would simply sweep my statement away as the
ramblings of a deranged crack-pot. So I played nice and kept my job. I fielded
a few more questions after that.
The final one was almost too much.
"Mr. Jensen, those are very tight pants you are
wearing. You seem happy to see us this afternoon," she chuckled. Yeah, I
shivered. For a second I was back to being that gazelle calf, but this time I
was surrounded by a pack of hyenas.
"I'm in a room full of beautiful ladies," I forced
a grin. "What do you think?" The press corps laughed. The pretty boy
made a 'funny.’ That was the end of the focus on me. After the conference ended
and I entered the elevator, Selma lit into me.
"What the hell was that?" she snapped.
"Weren't you listening to the approved responses?"
I took a deep breath; 3, 2, 1.
"
1 hr 22 min
June 15 Vanishing Manhood: Part 1
Vanishing Manhood: Part 1
A man in the world, were only a few males remain.
Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand. Listen to
the ► Podcast
at Explicit Novels.

Fear is a terrible seducer. It
steals you away from the rest of the World.
I pulled up to my new apartment complex and groaned. It was
a two story building shaped as a big U with a large swimming pool in the middle
and a gym situated at the open end. Not for the first time I wished I had paid
the hefty bribe and moved into a 'married couples' building and not this
'singles' complex the Housing Authority had saddled me with.
Head down, I began unloading my rental van and lugging my
few belongings to my second story condo. I avoided other residents until I had
my third box at my door. I wasn't stupid enough to leave my door open so I had
to fiddle with the knob while balancing the box with one knee.
"Hi there," a female voice caught me off guard.
"Do you need help with that?"
Now I'm no idiot. Sure, I had my long-sleeve shirt buttoned
down, tight jeans that would be difficult to remove quickly and a strong belt
on, but I wasn't inviting a strange woman into my dwelling. The odds of getting
a conviction of female on male rape these days was nearly impossible. The
assumption was that if I invited the girl in it was because I wanted to get
fucked, essentially, I was asking for it.
"No, thank you. I've got this," I replied
politely. "I turned and saw an attractive woman with dirty-blonde hair,
around five-ten and athletically built. Her grey eyes bore into me and, while
her smile remained plastered on her face, it grew frosty.
"Bracelet," she requested politely.
It wasn't something I could refuse, it was the law. I had to
give my identity to any female of legal age. For the law's sake, all men had
quarter-inch metal bands attached to their right wrists. The integrated chip was
updated every twenty-four hours and held all my vital statistics. I was about
to put the box down when she placed a hand underneath it.
"We can do that inside if you like," she
suggested.
"That's very nice of you, but I don't know you," I
evaded. I put the box down and extended my right arm toward her. She pulled out
her phone, scanned my bracelet and then smirked.
"Single White Male, twenty-one, no attachments and you
haven't had sex in the current cycle," she mused.
"I can help you with that," her demeanor warmed up
slightly, mistakenly guessing that not having sex yet so late in this 28 day
cycle I would be more receptive to her advances. All women liked to believe men
were willing and eager to do our part in the procreative process. I had
certainly never been asked about it.
"Thanks, but I've had a long drive. I need to finish
getting the van unloaded and then unpack everything," I tried to be as
nice as possible. That was not the answer she was looking for.
She looked back at her phone and scrolled through something.
I took the opportunity to open my door and quickly pushed the box inside with
my foot.
"You have been paying the fine for the last four
cycles," she noted with critical interest. It was a demanding, dominant
look. I couldn't tell if she was going to challenge my masculinity or make me
cringe in fear at the exposure of my confidential information.
"Wait," I gulped. "How do you know
that?"
She shifted her jacket aside and showed me her badge, and
gun. She was a Metropolitan Police Officer, oh shit. Sexual harassment by
police officers on men was frighteningly common.
"Yes," I replied promptly. "Yes, I
have."
"What's wrong with you?" she questioned me.
"Are you homosexual? Can't you perform?"
The fine for male homosexuality was far more crippling than
merely abstaining for a short while. Not having sex with a woman for six
straight months was grounds for the violation of my civil rights and we both
knew it. The plethora of male enhancement drugs and surgery made me not
performing a joke. The whole issue of paying fines for abstaining from sex was
confidential for a reason. It pissed many women off that men could still buy
their way out of spending time with them. In the past, when that information
had been generally available on our bracelets, some females had taken it upon
themselves to 'teach' the offending male a lesson. To put a stop to this
practice, the information had been reclassified as confidential.
"I really don't want to answer that," I said
softly. "Please, it is personal."
"Very well, Mr. Jensen, or would you prefer I call you
Israel?" she studied me.
"Thank you," I stammered. Her grin grew as she
pulled out her card and thrust it into my hand.
"Detective Angel Kristi," she informed me.
"My roommate and I live right across the hall. Her name is Roni and she's
a paramedic. I'll come by and check in on you when I get off shift." With
that she headed downstairs. I took a deep breath. I had no illusions that her
checking up on me was something I could refuse.
I managed to get the rest of my stuff inside before my
second encounter. Two girls came at me with a bottle of tequila and a
Tupperware container with all kinds of food in it. One was a tight-bodied Asian
woman, a slender 5 foot 3, with black hair down to her shoulder blades. The
other was a black girl, around 5 foot 8, and built like a female volleyball
player.
"Welcome neighbor," the black girl greeted me
enthusiastically. "I'm Aniqua and this is my roommate, Kuiko." Kuiko
waved with her free hand.
"Hey, Kuiko and Aniqua, I'm Israel Jensen" I gave
them my best noncommittal grin. "Thank you."
"Sure," Kuiko stepped right up to me. "Is
someone helping you unpack?"
Since the odds of me having a male roommate were miniscule
(two guys in one domicile only happened in pornos and sitcoms). We both knew
she was really asking if I had a girlfriend. That probably would have saved me,
but they might have asked permission before getting me drunk and dragging me
off for a fuck session. I decided to
save them the trouble of scanning me.
"I'm a single White male; no attachments," I
sighed. It took Aniqua a second to figure out what I wasn't saying.
"Bracelet," she 'suggested.’ I offered, she
scanned and she took a deep intake of breath. "You haven't had sex this
cycle yet, oh goodie!"
"That's," gulp, "nice, but I'm exhausted from
the move. Can I catch up with you ladies later?"
"Damn," Kuiko looked upset, and very frustrated.
That gave me a sinking feeling.
"Am I the only guy in the complex?" I worried.
"Yes," Aniqua confirmed excitedly. "You are
not only the only one here, but the only one on the entire block."
Oh fucking God!
This couldn't be happening to me. When I was a freshman in college, a girl I
trusted took me to a sorority party. She promised me she was only showing me
off to her girl-pals. I was fucked
raw for an entire weekend and they got it all on video. Like an idiot, I went
to Campus Security.
They told me 'girls will be girls' and what did I expect
going to a sorority party. As I left in utter humiliation, they joked about me
having a nice ass. I never trusted a girl again. Once a month I picked a random
girl on campus and asked her to fuck.
I never got turned down and I never slept with a girl who hit on me.
In my junior year my Mother died and I received a small
amount of money in an insurance policy. After that, I skated the law by paying
the fine for five months at a time. The police came to visit me and I had court
appointed psychiatrist appointments (again). Technically, I was still a citizen
so they couldn't force me to take aphrodisiacs.
I met a guy who went down that road and he was a mess,
hardly able to say 'no' to any woman, or women, he met.
"I really appreciate the gifts and the information but
I really need to get my apartment in order before starting work tomorrow. Don't
want to mess up my first day on the job," I informed them hoping they'd
take the hint and back off.
"What's your job and where are you working?" Kuiko
inquired.
"Public Relations for the Office of the Mayor," I
confessed.
"Oh, you are political," Aniqua drew the wrong
conclusion.
"No," I kept smiling. "I work for the
city."
"I bet the reporting pool is going to love you,"
Kuiko sighed. It was not lost on me that Chicago's chief executive might have
chosen my application because of that. Essentially, I was a pretty face to put
the best face possible on her policies.
"Well, I hope they will respect that I was top of my
class," I suggested.
The girls giggled as if what I was proposing was absurd.
"Oh, you're adorable," Aniqua patted my shoulder.
"You are going to be so much fun to have around."
"The last guy was a really fun slut," Kuiko
sighed. "Then one day the poor little moron thought he was in love and got
married to a woman who wouldn't share."
"Yeah, some women are no fun," I gulped. "On
that note though, I really have to go," I backed into my apartment.
"Bye now," they waved in unison. As the door shut
I heard Kuiko say,
"See the chest on that guy? He's got some real
stamina," she mused.
"I hope he has a really big cock,"
Aniqua added. "Joseph was okay but he was barely five inches. Let's go
online and see what his reviews are like."
I lost track of their voices as they wandered down the hall.
I busied myself unpacking my meager belongs in my pre-furnished pad. I paced
the place. I checked to see if the windows would open, but they were all
stationary. If I wanted out, I'd have to kick a window open. All the interior
doors were flimsy and the locks cheap. With every revelation, my heart sank
deeper into despair. This didn't feel like a home. It felt like a holding cell
with a comforting veneer.
I didn't like being in a place that had only one way in and
out. My history left me like that. In the end I went for my old college trick
of moving my dresser against my bedroom door before I went to bed with my
baseball bat. I would have rather have had a gun. Men had to jump through hoops
to get one and with my 'mental' history I knew that wasn't going to happen.
Maybe they were afraid I'd blow my brains out and that
wouldn't do while I still had two working testicles. Despite the strange
surroundings I managed to get to sleep without my sleeping pill which had been
prescribed for me. I hated taking those pills. They left me feeling like I was
walking in a fog.
I woke up a bit past midnight, feeling that something was
wrong. I didn't know what it was until I heard the doorbell ring, again, I
assumed. Fuck that noise, I wasn't answering the door after midnight. Hell, I
didn't want to open my door after dark. There were two more rings then I
guessed they gave up.
When the door knob turned, the brass candlestick I had
placed on it fell. I grabbed my phone and called 9 1 1. The operator kept me on
the line while letting me know that a patrol car was on the way. I nearly lost
it. The intruder tried to get in my bedroom, bumping against the dresser.
"Israel, it is Angel," the intruder informed me. I
thought about what to tell the 9 1 1 operator but there was no way I could see
to win this. I informed the operator that there was a police officer already
here with me, who she was and that the intruder must have been scared off. A
few seconds later, Detective Kristi's phone rang and she verified my version of
events.
"Are you going to let me in?" she asked.
"Do I have a choice?" I replied.
"Sure, but I read your file and I think we need to
talk," she countered. I didn't say anything for the longest time.
"I'll go if you want me to," she finally spoke up.
"Are you going to keep coming back?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered. I sighed and moved the
dresser aside but I kept my bat. Angel came into my room and I backed to the
bed. For a second, in my fatigue, I sat on my bed. When I realized where I was,
I shot back up. She would assume my waiting on the bed meant I was 'receptive.’
There was a curl to Angel's lip as she regarded me.
"I would like to talk to you," she repeated.
"We could talk out on the sofa if you prefer." That was a ruse. I'd
been held down and screwed on all kinds of furniture as well as the floor,
carpet and the dirt. No place was safe.
"We can talk in here," I allowed.
"I would feel better if you put down the bat," she
requested.
"Are you going to put down your gun?" I countered.
Surprisingly, she un-holstered her weapon and put it on the dresser. I felt
obliged to lean the bat against the wall. It was well within arm's reach. My
action was a concession to a cop not a sign of trust.
Detective Kristi walked toward me and sat on the bed,
patting the space next to her. I remained standing next to my bat.
"I know what happened to you when you were
sixteen," she said softly. When I was sixteen, I was walking home from a
date with my girlfriend (I was normal then) when I saw a woman having trouble
on the side of the road.
I stopped to help her only to realize she had a body in the
trunk. I found myself staring into the eyes of killer with a gun. She quizzed
me about whether I was a good boy or not. I told her I was coming home from a
date with my first girlfriend. She asked if we had sex. I confessed that she'd
only given me a blowjob because I was unready for complete intercourse.
That admission saved my life but led to 87 days of hell. She
kept me in her basement where she raped me at least once a day and sometimes
three or four times. When she wasn't raping me, she was luring male prostitutes
and dancers home and killing them for being 'impure.’ She was a female police
officer out on permanent disability (she had been shot in the stomach and lost
both ovaries).
The experience left me awfully traumatized. I was ordered
into therapy and was awarded an eighteen month exemption on sexual conduct. The
therapy cured me of my terror, right up until I went to college. I took the
psychological training I had learned after my abduction which encouraged me to
reintegrate into society and tried to be normal. I met a girl two years older
who aggressively pursued me. I reciprocated, we dated and I thought we really
had a mutually supportive relationship. I was conditioned by the whole social
or civil system to believe my girlfriend would keep me from harm.
That systemic subliminal conditioning convinced me to trust
my girlfriend and that led me to being an unwilling participant in an orgy at
her sorority. My ensuing encounter with campus security effectively eliminated
any intentions I may have had about women and relationships.
"Well, you know what happened to me," I replied
quietly. "Why is that relevant now?"
"You seemed to have transited the recovery program
rather well but when you went to college you seem to have relapsed," Angel
stated. So much for the confidentiality of my medical files, I thought.
"Oh," I stared at her, "you are now an expert
on male rape and recovery?"
"No, but I showed your file to a co-worker who does
specialize in it," Angel told me. "She says your behavior is
abnormal."
"Good for her. Thanks for prying into my private life
and medical files," I grew angry.
"I can't tell you how much I enjoy having a total
stranger rip my life bare for your and your co-worker's enjoyment," I
added. "Is this the point where you comfort me in my grief and then I
perform for you?"
"No Israel, I only came by to talk," she took a
deep breath.
"You don't need to be seeing women as the enemy,"
Angel went on. "That's not healthy. You need to trust women again like you
did before your rape."
"What? My complaint to Campus Security didn't make it
into my permanent record, what a crime," I joked bitterly.
"Your fucking
therapy worked, Cop," I grumbled. "I trusted a girl in college and
was raped for a weekend by her and about forty of her sorority sisters. The
video was all over the university for months. Since I was so clearly a whore,
girls felt it was okay to touch and grab me when and where ever. Why exactly
should I trust when all therapy taught me was a lie?"
"Israel, you cannot live your life in fear," Angel
sounded intense. "Women are everywhere. Besides, therapy wasn't a lie.
Most women aren't monsters and respect men and their rights."
"Listen, Officer Kristi, I do my part," I glared.
"I have the required amount of sex or pay the fine. I'm not a subversive.
I don't frequent subversive internet sites. I follow the law."
"You know that's not enough, Israel," Angel stood
up. "Our youth demographic is in decline and before long Congress is going
to expand on the Gender Inequality Act. Men will be required to contribute
more; more sex with more partners and plural marriages."
"Why are you telling me this?" I hung my head.
"I think you are a nice guy, Israel," Angel rubbed
my left bicep. "I don't want to see you go under."
"The fact that I am the only man in a block has nothing
to do with it," I stated in a neutral voice.
"I'm not a saint, but I'll be your friend if you need
one," Angel offered.
"Yeah, right," I let my bitterness boil forth for
a second, "since the police have been my friends all my life. The police
are women looking after women and men had better watch out unless we want to
find ourselves 'wards of the state.'" I immediately regretted telling her
the truth.
"See Israel, those are the wrong kinds of thoughts that
can get you in trouble," she warned me with enough compassion to scare me.
"We are having a party by the pool Saturday at noon.
Why don't you show up?" Angel suggested. "It will do you good to get
out there and deal with this problem of yours head-on."
"Okay," I felt dead inside. "I'll be
there."
"Don't be like that," Angel sighed in
exasperation. "It will be fun. No one will act inappropriately. You'll
have a good time."
"Let me guess," I pulled away. "You'll be
there to protect me."
"I know you don't believe me. Just show up and you will
see that you don't need protection. If you feel uncomfortable, let me
know," Angel tried to keep the warmth in her voice.
"Thank you," I lied. This whole interview was
worse than a waste of time. "I need to get some sleep so could you please
leave now."
"Learn to relax a little, Israel," Angel warned me
again, but she did leave. I followed along. At the door she handed me my
candlestick.
"Nice trick," she grinned.
"Yeah, but now that you know it, I'll have to think of
something else," I admitted. She shook her head in disappointment but left
without comment.
The next morning I woke up bright and early. I wanted to
make a good impression and show up early to work. I made my way to the metro
stop with all the normal precautions. I wished it was winter, not summer, so
that I could wear heavier clothes and not stand out. As it was, I wore a light
overcoat despite the high being forecast to be around 80 degrees.
I also kept headphones and kept my notepad close to my face
reading a book online so I didn't have to make eye contact with any women. To
my dismay, the only other man at the station appeared to be around fifty-five
and exhausted. Something was clearly wrong. The Housing Authority normally made
sure that single men and women were put in close proximity. Something was
definitely w
1 hr 13 min
June 13 A Quick Midnight Dip
A Quick Midnight Dip
Cheryl’s naked swim on a hot night turns her hotter.
Based on a post by Ashson. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I love hot sunny days. You can get away with wearing almost nothing, knowing all the boys are watching you. You can go swimming or take a pleasant walk in the country (as long as you choose a suitably shaded trail). Sunny days are the best.
There is one problem with hot sunny days. They tend to be followed by hot, mucky, nights, and they’re the pits. You’re too hot and sweaty to sleep and too tired not to and you have a dreadful night and wake up grumpy.
Turn on the air conditioner, I hear you say. Then you’re a trifle cooler and kept awake by the insist drone of the air conditioner. Whisper quiet, they say. A very loud whisper if you ask me, pitched in a voice that carries it throughout the house.
This particular night I was trying to sleep without using an air conditioner. The heat and humidity were winning. I grumbled my way out of bed and over to the window, hoping that if I leaned out I might catch a faint breeze.
I had mixed luck there. I didn’t find a breeze but I did spot the swimming pool next door, full of cool, calming, cleansing, water. Why not go for a quick dip, I asked myself?
Why not indeed? The Adams’s were away on vacation and not expected back for another week. No-one was there. I knew this because my mother had the key and checked the place every so often. I could slip next door and have a nice refreshing dip. The exercise and the coolness would help me get to sleep afterwards.
I was about to grab my bikini but then I thought the hell with it. There wouldn’t be anyone around and even if there was it was night. No-one would see me. I slipped out of the house and went next door.
Initially I sat on the edge of the pool, just dangling my feet in the water. Even that much contact with the cool water was enough to feel refreshing. I was wearing baby-doll pyjamas, scraps of material that weighed nothing. It was a job of seconds to shed them and then I was in the pool.
I swam a little and then floated a little, luxuriating in the coolness. It wasn’t nearly as dark as I’d thought it would be, what with a clear sky and a full moon. I could actually see quite well. Still, I was safe from observation. When I’d looked from my window the pool had been shadowy. I felt I could safely assume that the same would apply to anyone else who looked out of their window at midnight, not that there would be too many people doing that.
I was just floating drowsily, thinking that I really should get out and go back to bed. I got a real shock when someone spoke to me.
“Hi, Cheryl. Looks like great minds think alike.”
I promptly tried to drown myself but after a bit of swearing and floundering I found myself standing in water that wasn’t too deep and still covered me to chest high. Looking around I saw Jordan and Brendan standing by the steps of the pool, smiling at me. What was worse was the fact that they were both wearing bathing shorts.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. I know, silly question. What did I think they were doing seeing both of them were dressed for swimming?
“Take a guess,” said Jordan. “Go on. Take a wild stab at the reason we’re here.”
“You’re going swimming,” I said. “Well, not with me, you’re not. Go hop in the deep end and I’ll depart and leave you to it.”
“Now don’t be like that, Cheryl. We wouldn’t dream of depriving you of your swim. If you don’t want company in the pool we’ll just wait here until you’re ready to go. That’s fair and reasonable, isn’t it Jordan.”
“I have to agree with you, Brendan. That sounds like a plan to me.”
The two oafs just stood there smiling.
“Ah, look, boys, I’m not exactly dressed for male company. Do you mind moving elsewhere while I get out?”
“Cheryl,” exclaimed Brendan. “Don’t tell me you’re skinny dipping. I’m shocked. Truly shocked. Aren’t you shocked, Jordan?”
“I am, Brendan. Deeply shocked. To think that sweet little Cheryl would go skinny dipping at night. In someone else’s pool at that.”
“All right, cut the clown act. It’s not funny. I’ll admit you have me at a disadvantage. Now will you please just back off for a few moments?”
“The girl has a point, Brendan,” Jordan said, sounding thoughtful. “It’s almost criminal the disadvantage she has, being naked and all. How about we even the playing field a little?”
Call me suspicious but I didn’t trust them one little bit. I was right not to. Brendan nodded at Jordan’s comment and then both of them dropped their bathing shorts, leaving them as naked as me. Nakeder, even, as a pair of erections were standing out and shining in the moonlight.
I suddenly felt so hot that I almost expected the water to start boiling around me. Oh lord, how could I even look in their direction without seeing those things sticking out?
“Do you mind?” I gasped out. “Will you please have the common decency to just back off and let me get out?”
“Um, no,” said Brendan, with Jordan promptly seconding that.
“Feel free to hop out. We won’t look, will we, Brendan?”
“Ah, I don’t know about you but I’ll certainly be looking,” Brendan said. “You saw how fine she looked just floating there. Imagine how good she’ll look standing in front of us.”
My face was burning. How long had they been standing there watching me?
“How about you come on out? We’ll look, but we won’t touch.”
“That doesn’t apply to you,” added Jordan. “You can both look and touch. We won’t object.”
Despite myself my eyes dropped to their erections. I bet they wouldn’t object if I touched them. I felt myself getting all hot again.
“I’m not getting out while you two stand there. You’d probably, ah, grab me or something.”
“Are you implying that we might grab you with nefarious intentions?” asked Brendan, sounding a little insulted. He turned to look at Jordan. “Nefarious intentions means she’s scared we might try to rape her,” he explained.“
“I knew that,” said Jordan. “It just goes to show she’s not as dumb as she looks.”
“I beg your pardon?” I snarled. Dumb as I look indeed.
“Ooh, bad move Jordan,” said Brendan with a smirk.
“That just came out wrong,” Jordan protested. “I was just trying to point out that she’s very astute in assessing what our intentions are.”
In other words they intended to pounce as soon as I got out of the pool. I was in a little spot of bother here.
“You’re an idiot, Jordan,” Brendan told him. “Why don’t you just invite her here so we can fuck her?”
“Oh, right. We can do that because she’s eighteen now,” said Jordan. “Um, Cheryl, would you please get out of the pool and join us so we can make love to you? We’d really appreciate it. We’ll even let you pick the positions.”
Was he for real? He couldn’t be that dumb. As a matter of fact I knew he wasn’t. He was really highly intelligent. So why the dumb question?
“I’ll scream if you don’t go away,” I warned them.
“No, I don’t think you will,” Brendan said.
“Why not?”
“Because when we run away we’ll take those with us,” he pointed to my baby-doll pyjamas, “and you’ll be trying to explain to people why you’re standing out here naked and screaming. Everyone will be talking about it for months.”
I gave him a nasty look and he just smiled.
“Well, we seem to be at a bit of a stand-off,” Jordan said. “There’s really only one way to resolve this.”
“You’re leaving?” I asked hopefully and he laughed.
“Ah, no. Just stay where you are for a moment.”
With that he stepped down into the pool and started walking towards me. At least one good thing would come of that, I thought viciously. His blasted cock will shrink in the cold water.
He just walked towards me as casually as though he was walking on the grass. I waited to see what he would do which was a little mistake on my part. I expected him to stop in front of me and try and coax me out of the water. He didn’t stop.
He took one step too many and my naked body was plastered against his, his arm going around me to hold me firmly against him. Not only that, but the cold water wasn’t doing the right thing. I could feel his erection, hard as a rock and pressed against my tummy.
“I thought cold water would, ah, um.” I faltered, not quite able to say what I wanted to.
“Have a deflating effect on me?” he asked. “Not likely when there’s a lovely naked girl right there in front of me. Time to leave the water now.”
“If you try and drag me out of the pool I will kick and bite and scream and hit and scratch,” I warned him. “And shift that thing away from me.”
“I have no intention of dragging you out of the pool,” he said, a smile on his face.
The hand on my back dropped down to my bottom, pulling me a little more firmly against him. His other hand promptly joined it, both hands now clutching the cheeks of my bottom.
“Nice bottom,” he said, and lifted.
In the water I guess I weighed nothing at all, the water bearing my weight. When he lifted I popped up out of the water, my breasts now on full display, or they would have been if they weren’t plastered against him. On top of that I was now somewhat higher where his erection was concerned. It wasn’t pressing against my tummy but between my legs, legs that I was holding firmly together.
“Put me down,” I gasped, my hands grabbing his shoulders to hold myself steady.
“In a moment. Let your legs drift apart. Bring them around me.”
“But, but if I do that…” My voice trailed off.
“If you do that I’ll put you down, as requested,” he said, and I could feel him silently laughing.
“I’ll just bet you will. You’ll put me down on top of your stupid erection.”
“Now don’t you go insulting my erection,” he grumbled. “It’s the only one I’ve got. The term you want is thick, not stupid. Your legs,” he tacked on as a reminder.
I looked at him and considered what I knew of him and Brendan. All things considered they were a pair of nice boys. Would they really rape me if I actively resisted? They wouldn’t. They just wouldn’t do that. All I had to do was scream or start fighting and they’d back off.
So what did I do? I let my legs drift apart, the buoyancy of the water lifting them at the same time. I had no doubt whatsoever that Jordan could tell what I’d done, mainly because he would feel his erection slipping between my legs. I know I felt it.
He knew alright. He started lowering me and his cock was pressing up between my legs, seeking my slit, eager to get somewhere nice and warm. He was rocking his hips slightly, dragging the head of his cock back and forth along my slit. He seemed to know when it was settled against my vaginal passage as he stopped rocking and started pushing.
I found myself slowly settling down onto his cock as it steadily rose up into me. I could feel it, scraping against the sides of my passage, pushing forward to make more room for itself, going in deeper with each passing moment. I could feel heat exploding out of me, flooding my loins, welcoming this stranger into me.
I automatically locked my legs around his waist, staring at him, slightly shocked. I was having trouble believing that I’d let him do that, but I certainly had.
When he was satisfied that I was comfortably settled on him he turned around and waded back to the edge of the pool. That felt so strange, being carried through the water while riding on his cock. It was even stranger when he went up the steps leading out of the pool. Each step he took seemed to grind his cock into me a little bit more, jolting me.
Out of the pool he walked off the concrete surrounding the pool and onto the grass. He was deliberately bouncing me as he walked, sending additional little thrills through me, blast him. Once he was on the grass he stopped and knelt down, tilting me back until I was lying on the grass with him on top of me.
That was what he’d been waiting for. His hands came snaking up to grab hold of my breasts and his cock was pumping into me. His hips started working hard, driving his erection deep, with my hips working just as hard as I pushed up to meet it. As far as I was concerned I was not going to be a supine victim. If I was getting screwed then I’d make sure I did my own measure of screwing. I couldn’t help feeling that it’s a pity men don’t have breasts that I could play with the way Jordan was playing with mine.
With Jordan on me having his fun Brendan decided to come over and sit on the ground next to us, watching us get it on and waiting for his turn (if I permitted it). I promptly had an evil thought. Men may not have breasts that we can grab a hold of but it seemed to me that there was a rather nice erection right there within reach. My hand reached and you should have heard the startled squawk from Brendan when I squeezed him.
I didn’t really have a chance to play with it as Jordan was keeping me fully occupied and most of my attention was on him, making sure that I was keeping up with what he was doing. He was, in my humble opinion, playing games. One moment he’d be belting along, doing everything bar whipping me to get his ride going. The next moment he’s slowing down and we’ve gone from racing horse to a casual donkey ride at the beach. He was doing it deliberately, getting me all worked up and then easing off, extending the amount of time he had to play. And through all this I kept a tight grip on poor Brendan’s cock.
For all his playing around things were advancing. Every time Jordan picked up the pace my excitement rose higher than the previous time and it wasn’t all that long that his slower periods weren’t having any effect. On me, anyway. I was burning, my blood felt as though it was boiling inside me, and it was only a matter of time before I climaxed.
Then I did climax, dropping Brendan’s cock as though it was too hot and jamming my hands against my mouth, stifling any screams. Damned if I was going to make a loud noise and have someone come and see what was going on.
Jordan groaned and rolled off me, collapsing on the grass, totally spent. For his part, Brendan was now rolling me over onto my tummy, lifting my bottom into the air. I let it happen, scrambling onto my knees, so I was head down, bum up, and Brendan advancing.
Poor Brendan was in a bit of a state. My death clutch on his cock and apparently encouraged it to new and greater heights and he was feeling a little constrained, fearing that his balls would burst before he could get into action. It was quite an impressive sigh of relief he gave as his cock slid down my passage. Come to think of it, it was quite an impressive length of cock that came sliding into me.
Brendan didn’t start in on me straightaway. He just held himself firmly in place. A little relieved I think to have his cock so comfortably placed. I waited patiently, quite willing to let him have a bit of me time.
When he felt he was ready he started, moving surprisingly gently. He just pulled back and eased back into me again, as though feeling me out to see how I’d respond. I’d have thought after seeing how Jordan handled me he’d have had a good idea, but maybe he stopped paying attention to us when I gave him something of his own to think about. There again, he could have been feeling himself out to make sure he wasn’t going to explode too early.
I just moved along with him, rocking gently in place. For all his easy going I could feel the excitement building in me again. Not surprising after the performance Jordan gave. If Brendan couldn’t build something with that for a foundation he would have had to give up on women and made a career of masturbation.
After a couple of minutes I could feel Brendan relaxing. Well, as much as any man can relax in this sort of situation. He was gaining in confidence and starting to build up his pace. It wasn’t too long before he was galloping along at a respectable clip, and I was having to work once more to keep up with him.
I was quite happy to just let him get on with things on his own terms. I was almost purring with satisfaction, my excitement building with every thrust. It wasn’t going to be all that long and I’d be good to go again. Being a woman I didn’t even need to try to delay things until the man was ready. That sort of thing was the man’s responsibility. Very soon it was a case of ready or not, here I come.
I climaxed very nicely, thank you. My passage naturally clamped down on Brendan and quite frankly that was more than his poor cock could stand and he also climaxed, ready or not.
Brendan separated from me and collapsed back down onto the grass. I rose back up onto my feet. I was feeling great.
“I am going back into the pool for a quick dip,” I announced. “Then I’m going home.”
With that I turned and slipped into the pool. The cool water washed over me, wiping away my cares and sundry juices that I seemed to have acquired. After a refreshing dip I was out of the water, slipping on my pyjama, and heading homeward. I’d have whistled on my way except for the fact that I can’t whistle.
Brendan and Jordan? They were still sprawled on the grass. I guess they were just waiting for me to go before having their own swim.
By Ashson for Literotica
21 min
June 12 Amorous Goods: Exorcist Rings

Amorous
Goods: Exorcist Rings
Two
people fall in love during an Exorcist.
Based
on a post by ShowTime8.
Listen to the
Podcast at Explicit
Novels.

3
days ago, Boston suburb of Dorchester
The
second worse day of John's life had occurred about a month ago when his cock
had turned itself around in the shower one morning and started talking to him
using the external urethral opening at the end of his cock as a mouth.
"John,
I'm not going to suck myself." John's cock said. "Either you're gonna
start finding some women to do it or you will need to learn yoga so you can do
it yourself."
"What
the hell!" John had screamed.
"Hell
is right John, a demon from Hell has possessed your cock. Deal with it."
John's cock said.
John
had hoped that within a few days the situation would fix itself. He hated going
to doctors and this seemed like a medical problem he really didn't want to deal
with.
The
worse day of John's life was occurring now. Twenty minutes into his Zoom
meeting with his corporate headquarters in England and clients in Germany, with
over 40 people viewing him on video, his possessed cock had somehow taken over
his body.
The
demon had forced him to stand bolt upright, work his possessed cock out of his
underpants, got his possessed cock to lower his fly from the inside of his
pants. Once out, his cock had waved back and forth while it screamed prophesies
of the end of the world in English and German at the terrified business people.
After nearly five minutes jets of fire had started rocketing from his possessed
cock like a mini flame thrower in his pants, setting his work station ablaze.
"Sorry
everyone, I think I might be coming down with Covid." John yelled, trying
to talk over his cock as it harangued the business people in German with what
sounded like a speech from Hitler.
"You
need to let the church cut it off and burn it on a pyre of blessed logs."
One of the Germans said. "It's the only way to;�
Thankfully
at that point he was dropped from the call.
As
John worked the fire extinguisher to put out his burning desk he said out loud
"Aw man, if this continues I might really have to think about seeing a
doctor."
2
days ago, Old South Church, Boston Back Bay district
John
had decided to work from his office instead of staying home on covid
quarantine. He felt that if his cock was going to start fires it was better to
away from his own personal possessions. John had planned on walked to the
Boston library from his office on his lunch break. His goal was to find some
books that might explain how he could get rid of his cock demon. On the way he
had spotted Old South Church. Nearly 150 years old, the Northern Italian Gothic
style Church had served generations of Bostonians religious needs. He decided
to stop there first as it was on the way.
"Can
I help you?" A church employee asked as John entered the holy edifice.
Smoke had started rising out of his pants as soon as he had stepped onto the
holy ground around the church.
"Nah,
I'm good." John said as he quickly walked around the man and made his way
to the stone basin in the corner of the room along the wall. "I'm just
going to stick my cock in the holy water."
"Stop,
what are you doing?" an older woman yelled as she came running up to him.
"There's a wedding in progress!"
"Chill
out, my cock got possessed." John explained. "I'm going to drowned it
in holy water. I don't have time for this today; I have to get back to the
office."
John
stripped his pants and underwear off and tried to get his genitals into the
basin. The basin was deep and set against the wall so try as he might, he could
not get his possessed cock into the water. Finally, he settled on dipping his
underwear into the water like a sponge then rubbing the wet material against
his bloated and turgid member.
His
cock responded by shrieking, squealing, and making other high pitched noises
like a three month old baby getting its nails clipped before shooting more jets
of fire into the pews. "I object to your wedding. I object to your
happiness." His cock yelled before screaming at the horrified wedding
guests in German.
"You
ruined my daughter's wedding you stupid freak." The older woman started
crying while she directed terrified wedding guests from the burning church.
"Why didn't you cut your possessed wiener off and burn it on a pyre of
blessed logs like a normal person; instead of ruining everything for everyone.
I'm calling the Holy Inquisition; I hope they kick your ass."
John
quickly made his escape, dashing into a crowd of people near the fire trucks
that had arrived to fight the blazing holy building.
Yesterday,
Dagon church in the Boston Downtown Crossing district
"Father
Dagon cannot help you, Jesus cannot help you." The old priest warned.
"It is said in the holy bible, 'I have been expelled from Your sight.
Nevertheless I will look again toward Your holy temple'. You have been banished
from the eyes of the gods for your sins."
"What
sins?" John whined. "I called every church in Boston and all of them
hung up on me. You burn one church down and are wanted by the Holy Inquisition
and suddenly no one wants to help you. It's total bullshit."
"I
will tell you of your sins again god, but first you need to give god's
messenger money." The old priest nodded sagely, "We don't take credit
card anymore."
John
quickly handed the priest the $3,000 they had demanded over the phone.
"On
talk like a pirate day, back on September 19th, do you remember what you did,
it was a Saturday."
"Yeah,
I went with my buddy Gary to the bar for his birthday. We got totally drunk, it
was a great time."
"Do
you remember your blasphemy against the image of the holy spirit?"
"What
are you talking about, I went to the bar. I got a little drunk, that's
it."
"And
there you pissed on a plate of spaghetti, the holy symbol of the holy spirit in
his guise as the flying spaghetti monster, on his most holy day."
"What?
I was drunk, there was a line for the bathroom. Someone had ordered spaghetti,
it was on the table. Yes, I pissed on it, it was funny."
"You
think blaspheming god is funny?"
"It
was meant as a joke, it was funny."
Well,
god didn't find your little joke funny and removed your cock from his sight.
Now, it's possessed by demons. The way I see it, you have two options. You can
have the Catholic Church amputate your possessed cock and burn it to ash on a
pyre of blessed logs. It's outpatient surgery. It's covered by most insurance
plans, your only out of pocket would be the $15 copay."
"I'm
not paying someone $15 to cut my cock off." John angrily demanded.
"What's my other option? And it better be fucking good cause I paid you
$3,000."
The
priest chuckled. "The other option is Amorous Goods. I talked to them this
morning. They agreed to help in exchange for your Bentley. Please bring the
title to your car with you tomorrow. Your appointment is at 9am. Be prompt.
Here's the address."
"They
want my car, forget that." John hissed. "Hey, what's that
singing?"
The
priest motioned John to the church window overlooking the parking lot. Outside
a dozen white panel vans had stopped in the lot. Dozens of nuns of the Holy
Inquisition spilled forth. Their black and white head to toe habits hiding
their faces as they slowly moved in to surround the building. Singing hymns in
praise of god, the butts of their M-16s against their shoulders as they leveled
the guns at the church.
"Oh
shit." John's cock whimpered fearfully. "It's pirates, don't let them
get me!"
The
Pastafarians had sent in their paladins as well, holy
members of the crimson corsairs of the flying spaghetti monster. One of their
members pointed to the window John was looking out of. Her dark pirate overbust corset, red skirt, and knee high black leather
pirate boots highlighted her figure as she raised her pirate sword and let out
a mighty battle cry.
"You
no longer have a car." The priest continued chuckling. "Now
run."
Today,
Abandon warehouse near Amorous Goods on the outskirts of Boston
"Hi,
you must be John, I'm Vicky, and this is Amy." Vicky greeted John as he
walked in the door to the abandon warehouse. "Don't worry, Amy's not with
the Holy Inquisition. Now please hand over the title to your car and we can get
started."
Handing
Vicky the title to his car John asked. "What are you going to do to me?
Who are you? Who's Amy?"
"Yes,
let's do a question and answer session. I'm sure the Holy Inquisition will wait
around while we address all your concerns." Amy rolled her eyes and snarked. "Okay, a few weeks ago I slipped this really
cute guy in my yoga class a love potion. He was married but I thought he would
be much happier with me than his wife. He was cute, well hung, rich, the usual.
Turned out his wife was a witch. This bitch's witches coven found me guilty of maleficium, cursed me, and so now my pussy is a gateway to
hell."
"Why
are you dressed like a nun?" John asked.
Amy
did a full turn. Her faux leather vinyl sexy nun costume was skin tight on her
firm 5'6" athletic figure. Her blue and black hair shoulder length hair
back in a bun under her habit. "It pisses the demons in my pussy off, plus
I love how it makes my ass look. Why are you dressed like a nun?"
"My
cock demon set my pants on fire again, then I had to beat up these nuns with
the Inquisition. Then I stole one of their outfits. Last night was a long
night." John sighed.
"Okay
you two. I'm a small business owner and my dead uncle was a wizard so I know
what I am doing." Vicky broke in addressing the two possessed people.
"What
needs to happen is you need to ejaculate your wiener demon into the vortex to
hell in your pussy. Please get inside the faraday cage." Vicky hoped this
would work this time and the two test subjects would not explode but didn't
want to mention to them what had happened to the last two possessed people she
had tried helping.
"What?
All I needed to do is have sex with this whore and the demon would be
gone." John whined.
"I'm
not a whore, I'm a yoga instructor, bartender, and teacher martial arts."
Amy responded. "What do you do, mug nuns for a living."
"I
work in corporate finance, I'll be senior desk for capital structuring and
investment decisions within two years." John bragged.
"Okay,
well, you want me to be a whore huh, okay then, that's a Neiman Marcus watch.
Give me your watch." Amy said with a huge grin on her face. "If you
don't then let's see how much you like it when the Holy Inquisition cuts your
cock off. And get out of that outfit, let me see what you got."
"My
watch cost $15,000. I'm not just going;� John started while stripping off the
nun's habit he was wearing.
"No,
my watch cost $15,000, now take it and your clothes off and get in that
cage." Amy said with an angry smile, her nostrils flared out with her
barely concealed rage. She was secretly happy with the turn of events. On the
downside she was going to be having sex with a crossdressing weirdo five
minutes after meeting him on a ratty, piss-stained mattress in some cage in an
abandon building but with Covid she had learned to take what she could get when
she could get it. On the plus side, he was well muscled and a dongoloid Ryan Reynolds look-a-like, not really much chest
hair but nice abs.
As
she crawled in after him she grabbed his scrotum and gave it a playful tug. She
smiled a little when he screamed and tried to pull away.
"Do
you watch Parks and Recreation?" John asked. "You have a weird
awkward vibe about you, like Aubrey Plaza."
"Well
thanks, that's what I was going for, awkward slutty nun. Yeah, she's my
favorite on that show. I like her better than Ron Swanson." Amy said,
giving John her best weird girl stare.
"I
have her movie Life after Beth on DVD, I mean my place got shot up pretty bad
by nuns last night, but it should be alright if you wanted to come over and
watch it." John started blushing as he asked Amy out.
"It's
a hilarious zombie movie." John's cock said.
"Yeah
as soon as we're done fucking in this cage I would like that. I love horror
movies." Amy smiled back. "Plus, I don't have sex till the third date
so you owe me three retroactive dates."
Amy
lay on her back on the mattress and John pushed her nun mini skirt up before he
slipped his head between her legs. His tongue found her clit and he started
licking it in a capital T motion. As she became wet he moved his hand to slip a
finger into her. As he did so the gateway to hell inside her pussy opened and
the sound of a lighthouse fog horn rang out from between her vaginal lips
temporary dazing him with its loud blast.
Amy
immediately rolled him over and mounted him. His thick member slid into her,
filling her. When his cock demon tried squirting fire, the flames passed
harmlessly into the vast chasm of the hell vortex. She grabbed his hand and worked
her clit as she bounced on his member. His girth was large but not unpleasantly
painful to her delicate slit. Lighting started shooting off the pair as their
climax drew near. The hell vortex vibrated wildly as the demon was slowly
sucked from John's cock. Amy felt like she was masturbating with a large dildo
in her slit and her vibrator set to maximum near her clit.
Suddenly
John rolled himself back on top of her. Pinning her to the mattress with his
larger frame, he started thrusting into her with strong powerful movements,
timing himself perfectly with her wildly bucking hips. She could feel his
scrotum, the scrotum she had be playfully tugging only minutes before, slapping
against her ass as she wrapped her legs around his hips.
Finally,
the demon slipped from John's cock into the hell vortex and he came hard
spraying his hot cum deep inside her. Amy felt the warmth soak over her like
she had dunked her head under water during a bubble bath at the perfect
temperature. The orgasm that followed knocked the breath out of her. As she
came to she saw stars in front of her eyes and realized she had left bloody
scratch marks down John's chest and back. She wanted to apologize but was to
out of breath to form words. Finally she got enough strength to roll on to her
side only to be hit with another wave of orgasmic bliss, sending her into
another round of mini convulsions.
Finally
John wrapped her in his nun outfit and gently carried her from the cage.
"Okay
you two." Vicky said. "Here's a pair of magic anti-demon rings, each
of you need to wear one and have sex with each other once or twice a week for
the next month. That should be enough time for the hell gate to permanently
close with the demon firmly trapped within."
"Amy,
I know that must have been so hard for you, the rest of the times will likely
be just as intense just minus the lightning bolts shooting out of your asses.
If you need to back out, we will come up with a plan B." Vicky explained,
rubbing her hand over the exhausted woman's forehead.
"Once
or twice a day." Amy weary replied. "We will be doing that at least
once or twice a day. How long till the pussy gate closes for good and that
never happens again?"
Vicky
was unsure if she should respond. Finally she explained "You two are kind
of soul locked, that will always happen if you have sex with him. I'm
sorry."
"I'm
not." Amy gasped, still fighting to get her breath back.
Epilogue,
Old South Church, Boston Back Bay district
Two
years had passed since John and Amy had met. The anti-demon rings had been
replaced with engagement rings. The wedding had to be kept small thanks in part
to the Covid vaccine causing the occasional uncontrollable diarrhea rage zombie
outbreaks.
The
wedding had gotten almost half way done when a naked man kicked in the door. He
ran to the basin of holy water and tried to stick his cock in. His cock
shrieked in panic, then started singing the greatest disco hits from the 70's
while spraying fire into the pews.
The
two love birds were able to say "I do." before the smoke forced them
to flee the building. John was able to slip a business card for Amorous Goods
into the naked man's hand as he ran pass, dozens of pirates and nuns in hot
pursuit.
To
be continued, in the series, Amorous
Goods; a collaborative storyline for Literotica
1 hr 4 min
June 11 Amorous Goods: The Pendant of Min
Amorous Goods: The Pendant of
Min
He just couldn't
believe she could ever cheat.
Based
on a post by ShowTime8.
Listen to the
Podcast at Explicit
Novels.

As
painful as the scene on the computer screen was, Trevor Duncan couldn't look
away. Part of the reason was he still couldn't believe his eyes, even though he
knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was authentic. Still, he was looking for
some clue, some sign that it wasn't as it seemed. The other reason was Trevor
felt utterly defeated and that he had already lost the most important thing in
his life. He hurt so much emotionally, maybe piling on the pain would
eventually get him to the point that he'd be numb to it; like a an emotional
callous.
The
video was obviously shot from a phone set up ahead of time to capture the
action on the bed. Trevor didn't recognize the bedroom at all, but knew exactly
where and when it was. He also recognized the very attractive woman, lying on
the bed half-naked with her legs spread, while a man lied with his head between
him.
"Oh
God, you eat pussy so good," Larissa Duncan purred as she squirmed with
her feet on the man's shoulders, while one hand played with the hair of the man
pleasuring her. The other hand was working to free her tits from her C-cup bra.
Once it did, she started playing with both nipples. "Fuck, fuck...I'm
cumming;�
The
man chuckled as Larissa trembled and then pushed his head away.
"Enough
foreplay, I need a cock in me," Larissa said in a breathless voice as she
tossed her bra on the ground, and wiggled out of her long blue dress that was
bunched at her waist.
"Do
I get a choice of where it goes?" said the deep voice of Hunter McPhillip.
As
horrible as what Larissa was doing in the video, the 'who' made it even worse.
Trevor and Hunter were both professors of English Literature at Gradestone University. They hated each other at first sight
when Trevor started at GU five years prior. Hunter was arrogant, but lazy. He
barely made his quota every year for scholarly publications and majority of it
was derivative with his focus being ancient folklore. Trevor published numerous
articles and several books on the effect of attitudes towards sexuality on
popular culture as represented in literature. Locally, he was called Dr. Erotic
because of his most popular book dealing with the 'Fifty Shades' phenomenon.
"Oh,
I think I know what you mean," Larissa said in a sultry tone on the video
as she moved towards Hunter, who was now standing by the edge of the bed naked
with his five-inch erection poking out underneath his beer gut. "Okay, for
eating me so good, you deserve a little treat, but you're fucking my pussy,
mister. I can't get pregnant by swallowing."
With
a look of pure joy and lust, Larissa took him in his mouth and began sucking
his cock as enthusiastically as she'd ever done to Trevor. He did get blowjobs,
but maybe once or twice a month. She used her hand to stroke, as she licked
right down to the toad's hairy balls, which she took in her mouth in turn.
Hunter groaned through it like he was in heaven.
"Enough,
my pussy needs this cock," Larissa said through her teeth in a lustful
sexy voice as she released him and got on her hands and knees facing away from
him, "There's nothing I love more than your cock in me. Fuck me, baby,
fuck me hard. We've been away from the party for too long as it is. We don't
want anyone to notice."
Grabbing
her by the hips, Hunter slammed into Trevor's wife with a grunt by both of
them. He went straight to jack-rabbiting her doggy style. You could hear the
sound of flesh slapping and the jingle of that ugly pendant Hunter wore around
his neck at the party.
As
he thrust, Hunter spoke in a breathless voice to obviously taunt Trevor more.
"You love this cock more than all others? Don't you baby? Say it?"
"Oh,
fuck;� squealed Larissa, "I love this cock more than anything. It's the
only one I ever want till I die."
"You
don't just want to be fucked. You want me to cum deep in you and make you pregnant?"
"Oh
God, yes, I want your baby." Larissa began panting and shifting like she
was close to coming again.
With
a grunt, Hunter looked to have finished in her, but then he kept going while
Larissa reached to rub herself.
"Yes,
just a little more, just a little more. Fuck."
Hunter
pulled out and Trevor could clearly see the jizz dripping out of his wife's
bald pussy.
"Wow,
that was fun. I better get back down there," Hunter said wiping his cock
on the blanket.
"Okay,
lover," Larissa said in a breathless content voice, "I can't believe
we did it here. I better freshen up and I'll see you down there. Hopefully no
one suspects anything."
"What
if they do?" Hunter said in a smarmy voice as his hand reached towards the
camera. "Does it really matter?"
"You're
right," giggled Larissa, "God, I love you."
The
screen went black and then white text appeared saying, "We waited just for
this special night to come into the open about our love. You might have gotten
the Dean position, but I got the girl. And hopefully soon, a son.
#Winning"
Trevor
swore loudly and threw an empty beer can at the screen. It was three days prior
that his wife casually admitted she was fucking someone when she disappeared
for an hour at the party at the Donald Blune, the
university president's house. The party was to announce to faculty and staff
that Trevor was replacing Dr. Welsh as Dean of Humanities.
After
the brief argument, which caused quite a scene in front of everyone, Trevor
went home, grabbed a few things and headed to a motel. His wife, who reeked of
sex, had the gall to be mad that his coworkers found out she was fucking
someone else with all of them there. Shortly after he checked into his room, he
received the video by email.
Trevor
and Larissa had been married for twelve years and had Josephina, who was ten.
Larissa's pregnancy had been quite difficult with complications requiring an
emergency C-section. Another slap in the face was Trevor had hinted several
times that he wanted another child, but Larissa refused. Now, here she was
happily going to have that toad's? As unattractive as Trevor thought Hunter
was, he always seemed to hook up with really attractive women. None as sexy as
Larissa, at least until that party. Hunter was a good bullshitter, but Trevor
never in his wildest dreams thought his wife would fall for it.
Knowing
that half the campus would know he was cuckolded at his own promotion party,
Trevor hadn't returned to work. His wife also worked there in financial
services as payroll manager - and was well known on campus. A tall leggy
brunette with a skinny waist, full tits and a flawless face that always was
smiling got noticed. Trevor couldn't stand the thought of seeing people's faces
pitying him or snickering behind his back. Trevor knew he had to cool off a bit
before making any definite decisions, but he was already looking at professor
positions at other colleges. He couldn't see himself remaining at GU with
Hunter and Larissa now a couple.
What
hurt more than the ending of what Trevor thought a perfect marriage was now he
probably would be a part-time parent to Jo. Even with proof of her adultery,
Trevor knew it was unlikely that he'd get full custody. With him planning to
move out of state, the best he could probably hope for was summer and holidays
with her. If he remained in Gradestone, he'd probably
get split custody, but again, the thought of being in the same city as the
lovers; especially when Larissa started to show, was too unbearable.
There
had been some attempts of Larissa or her friends and family to contact him.
After her text of, "What's wrong with you? I did nothing to deserve how
you treated me," Trevor blocked every way he could think of her contacting
him. He even canceled his phone and got an upgrade with a new, unlisted, number
in his name only. He felt really bad because he knew how much Jo would be
missing her father, but he couldn't see how he could contact her without
dealing with Larissa, which he wasn't ready for yet.
Whereas
Larrisa came from a big family, three siblings, both
parents alive and a couple dozen close cousins, Trevor was basically an orphan.
His parents died within a month of each other before he met his wife in
college. He had no siblings or other family that he knew about. As well, all
the friends he really had in town were 'their friends.' That meant, Trevor felt
like he had no real support as he was going through hell.
He
was about to watch the video again, when he hesitated, and instead did an
internet search. Within twenty minutes, he found a divorce attorney and had a
free consult meeting that afternoon.
Horace
Derringer was one of those older men who were probably a lot older than they
look. The older man looked no more than fifty, but the years on different
decorations in his office made him more likely to be over sixty. Still, the man
had something about him that commanded respect, which gave Trevor a lot of
confidence in him.
Before
the meeting, Trevor sent a copy of the email to him, warning him it was
graphic. Horace chuckled and said in all his years handling divorces, he'd seen
everything.
"Well,
Mr. Duncan, I guess I do owe you an apology," Horace said, "You said
this video was filmed at your promotion party? And your wife came down
immediately after and admitted it, and then her lover sends the video to taunt
you further? That's something I've never seen before. Of course, I will have a
forensic video expert go through it carefully; both for authenticity and any
details which could help either or your wife's case."
"Well,
she didn't just come down and admit it," Trevor said, "the fact she
disappeared and missed the president announcing my promotion, and I could just
tell she had sex. I mean, you could practically smell it on her and how her
hair and clothes were. I was completely shocked and asked her point blank if
she just had sex. She said, 'duh, of course I did.' That's when I raised my
voice and asked who. She looked at me like it was a stupid question and said
that I knew. I said I didn't and demanded she tell me who she just fucked loud
enough for everyone to hear. That's when everyone started looking at us and she
got mad at me for letting everyone know and asked me if I was going
crazy."
"She
seemed pretty lucid in the video, which is surprising. I expected some sign of
her intoxicated or under the effects of some narcotic," stated the
attorney.
Trevor
shrugged. "It was a dry party and besides caffeine, I don't think Larissa
has touched any recreational drug in the past ten years. I used to smoke and
still drink occasionally, but she is a health freak."
Horace
shook his head. "Wow, I'm sorry Mr. Duncan, but that should give us
grounds for mental cruelty - how they rubbed their affair in your face. Do you
have any idea how long it was going on?"
"I
have absolutely no clue because there were zero signs. You heard them talking.
It had to be over a period of time, but she completely deceived me. Everything
about our relationship was great. Active sex life, went on regular dates, we
even ate all three meals together most days because we both worked at the
university. There's been no change at all until she came down from that bedroom
after my promotion was announced."
"She
was talking about getting pregnant. Was there a change in your family
planning?"
Trevor
sighed. "I got snipped five years ago because my wife had a rough
pregnancy and didn't want to risk something happening. Since she's not on any
birth control, it would be easy for her to plan to get knocked up by her lover
behind my back.
Horace
nodded and cleared his throat. "Okay, well I definitely would be glad to
represent you. Now, these proceedings always have some level of
unpredictability, but I can safely give you some good and bad news ahead of
time."
"Okay."
"Since
you are planning to move out of state, no way you're getting split custody and
it would be a long shot to get full. Now, if there were signs of mental
stability, that would be different. I'm sorry, but I don't see that. The court
will just see a woman who fell in love with another man to the point that she
cruelly rejected her current spouse. And with us being a no-fault state, with
no pre-nup, your assets will be split and you'll probably be paying some child
support based on your comparative earnings."
Trevor
blinked. "I'm sorry, what is the good news?"
"You
strike me as an intelligent man, which is why this is so hard on you,"
Horace shook his head sadly. "You aren't used to be tricked and these two
really pulled the wool over your eyes. I'm sure you knew financially, there was
no way you were coming out on top in divorce proceedings. The good news is this
will not be drawn out. With your wife actively trying to conceive with another
man and admitting it in front of witnesses, no judge will be recommending
counseling to try and reconcile even if she suddenly has a big change of heart.
You'll still be connected by your daughter of course, but you will be free of
your wife. And, we can stipulate that a neutral person be the contact for
matters about her, and transport her between visits. In other words, you won't
be forced to interact with your ex-wife."
Trevor
nodded. "I guess that's as good as news I can hope for. I have no
intention of speaking to her again."
"Sorry,
I meant after the divorce proceedings. You two will still need to be present
during the process. And since, it might take a month or more to get the ball
rolling, I'm sure you won't want to be away from your daughter for that long.
You will be free of her eventually. I recommend just keep your feelings in
check and don't do anything stupid; like knocking anyone's teeth in."
"I'd
never strike my wife. I've hardly yelled at her," Trevor said sounding
offended.
"I
meant your soon-to-be-ex-wife's lover. That video could trigger a physical
response from you, and that could be used to deny you access to your daughter.
That could be why they sent it to you - a trick I have seen before. My advice,
besides hiring me, is find a third party you both trust to get a message to
your wife that you aren't ready to see her, but want to see your daughter. For there
to be any chance of full custody, it has to look like you're still wanting to
actively be her father."
"Of
course I actively want to be her father," Trevor snapped, but Horace
barely reacted.
"Yes,
so I'm recommending you do something that you want to do already."
Trevor
didn't feel any better after the meeting, but he did officially hire Horace to
start getting ready to have Larissa served by the start of the following week.
He was already thinking of how to connect with Jo without having to deal with
Larissa.
Horace's
advice of a neutral go-between crossed his mind, but he couldn't see many
people he'd trust, worried that they probably would be more on Larissa's side.
In the end, he decided on the Balloys. Jeff and
Marjorie were parents of Teaghan, who was Jo's best
friend in school. Larissa and Marjorie had hit it off right away and became
really good friends. Over the last couple years, the families had gone camping
together and even on vacation to California. Trevor wasn't as close to Jeff as
Larissa was to Marjorie, but he trusted them; especially when it came to his
daughter.
Trevor
had all his contacts from his old phone, though with many numbers blocked just
in case. He was about to call Jeff, but knew it he'd probably end up talking to
Marjorie anyway.
She
picked up on the first ring.
He
didn't even finish saying 'Hello' when she interrupted. "Trevor, is that
you? Where are you? Everyone is worried sick. Larissa even went to the police,
but they wouldn't consider you a missing person because they thought you left
her."
"They
aren't wrong. I did leave her."
"What?"
shrieked Marjorie, "How could you do that? Both of them have been crying
nonstop. How the fuck could you do that? Is it another woman?"
"Quit
yelling and I'll tell you the full story," Trevor said firmly.
She
mumbled a few more swear words and then angrily said, "Fine."
"I'm
guessing that Larissa didn't tell you the whole story."
"Only
that out of nowhere you cruelly humiliated her for no reason and was acting
crazy at your boss's house."
Trevor
snorted. "That's rich. I humiliated her? I'm sorry to speak ill of your
good friend, but what happened is my once loving wife suddenly disappeared from
the party. I did try to find her and asked around, but I had to stop looking
because the president was about to make the big announcement of my promotion.
The promotion that was the whole reason why there was a party in the first
place. They made the announcement, I gave my speech, and still no sign of my
wife. A fact that wasn't lost on all our co-workers present. When I was finally
free to look, I found her looking and smelling like she just had sex; obviously
not with me."
"What?
I don't believe it."
"Oh,
it's true. In fact, she casually admitted it like it was no big deal. She only
got upset when I demanded she tell me who she fucked."
"That,
that does not sound like Risa at all," Marjorie said in a softer voice.
"What
I thought so as well. Then I get an email from her lover, Hunter fucking McPhillip, with the full video of them fucking and discussing
their plans to have his baby."
"Trevor,
that can't be right. It has to be fake. There's no way;� Marjorie started.
"I
could smell him on her. There's no way she didn't fuck him. And the worse thing
is," Trevor paused to compose himself before continuing, "Is how they
talked like it had been going on for a while. She said she loved him. The video
claims that they planned it from the beginning to announce on my special night
that she was now with him."
"I-I-I
don't know what to say," said Marjorie sounding a little shaken, "If
that really happened, it makes sense you wanting some space. All I know is Risa
is not acting like a woman ready to leave her husband for another man. She is
physically ill worrying about you and claims to have no idea why you ran off.
She's been calling hospitals worrying that you had a brain tumor that caused
this."
"Maybe
she's the one with the tumor. I won't put you through seeing the video unless
you really want to, but I swear it's real." Trevor sighed. "Look,
Marjorie, the reason I'm calling is about Jo. I really miss her and want to see
her, but I'm not ready to face Larissa. Not yet. I trust you and Jeff
completely with my daughter's welfare. Can you please contact my wife and
convince her to let you arrange me spending some time with my daughter? I'm not
going to say a word about why we're divorcing. I just need to see her."
"Wow,
I don't know what to say," Marjorie said, "Of course, I'll help you
see Jo. She's as bad as Risa is right now. I'm sorry, I am just in shock she'd
do something like that. I mean, how she talks about you when it's just us. She
absolutely gushes about you."
"Well,
I guess she changed her mind. Thanks Marjorie. Please say hi to Jeff for me and
I'll await your call. It can be anytime. I'm giving my two week notice to quit
work and on leave for two weeks."
After
he got off the phone, Trevor started writing an email to Dr. Blune giving him the heads up that he was quitting. As the
university president was a couple yards away from the confrontation between him
and Larissa, Trevor didn't expect him to be surprised. The only silver lining
was that Trevor wasn't currently teaching any courses, so there was only a
single research project tha
1 hr 11 min
June 10 Amorous Goods: The Mayor's Wife & A New Beginning
Amorous Goods: The
Mayor's Wife
How did Morgana
recover the lingerie?
Based
on a post by ShowTime8.
Listen to the
Podcast at Explicit
Novels.

Prologue:
A
lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left
the entire collection and the business built around them to his only remaining
relative, a distant niece on a career path of her own as an archivist. Vikki
has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business
and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have
been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter
them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at
Amorous Goods.
From
The Three Monkeys episode, In Chapter Four we learned;
The
Mayor's wife wanted to give her husband a special reward for winning his latest
election. She enlisted the help of her friend, the Sheriff's wife, whose
husband had also been re-elected. Because both men had run on law and order
platforms and had made much of their success in getting hookers off the streets
of their small, family-friendly town, the two town matrons decided it would be
funny and fun to give their husbands a bawdy weekend in the big city. They
would tell the men to meet them at a swank hotel for a supposedly normal
celebration and then surprise them by acting like their own high-priced call
girls.
The
ladies wanted the proper attire, but didn't want to be seen buying it in their
own town. So, they went into the city a day early, telling their husbands
honestly that they would have one girls' day of shopping before their husbands
came for two days of celebrating their re-elections; out of the public eye of
the people who'd elected them.
So,
Mrs. Mayor and Mrs. Sheriff did end up finding the costumes they wanted in a
shop in the Big City. Unfortunately, the costume shop had gotten them from
Amorous Goods before Vikki had learned about their enchantment.
You
can easily imagine what could go wrong for a couple of horny women who suddenly
put on magic corsets and stockings and begin playing Call Girl.
It's
up to Vikki, her cousin Dylan, and especially their expert in enchanted
erotica, Morgana Delacroix, to step in and save the mayor's and sheriff's wives
from turning a lively fantasy into a life-changing reality.
And
now,
Amorous Goods: The
Mayor's Wife
In the Big City:
Chapter Four And A Half
The
Amorous Goods team watched the elevator numbers close in on their goal, the
fifth floor of the Grand Sheraton, one of the most upscale hotels in the city.
Amorous Goods' owner, Vikki Friday, her cousin and business partner, Dylan
Ventura, and their mentor, the witch Morgana Delacroix, had managed to track
their targets to this hotel. And by using her considerable charms on a desk
clerk, Morgana had gotten their room numbers.
The
elevator bell dinged, the doors slid open and the three people from AG, short
for Amorous Goods; stepped out, but then stopped in their tracks. Incredibly,
the two women they were seeking were right there in front of them. More
incredibly, they were wearing the enchanted lingerie sets that Vikki and the
others were actually looking for. Most incredibly, the two middle-aged women in
underwear were surrounded by four fully-dressed middle-aged men and it looked
like the six of them were starting to have group sex right there in the hallway
of the hotel.
Morgana
turned to her two young companions and whispered, "Hotel security."
Then she turned back and confidently stepped in between the men and the
scantily clad women. With just her physical presence, she swiftly separated the
two groups. The men, who were all wearing ball caps with logos like Ford and
Chevy, were clearly attending the muscle car show at the nearby convention
center.
Dylan
quickly picked up on Morgana's intent and followed her lead. He also took up a
place between the men and the women, but facing the men. "Gentlemen,"
he said gravely. "We're with hotel security and we've heard there might be
a few women around the hotel looking to, um, 'find work' with some of our
guests." The car guys were stunned into silence.
Vikki
caught on and stepped in. "You see, we work undercover, dressed like
regular hotel guests. But we're always on the lookout for, shall we say,
activities that don't really belong in a nice hotel like ours."
The
men suddenly came alive and began speaking over one another.
"What?"
"But we weren't..." "What are you going to do?"
Confident
that Vikki and Dylan had the conventioneers well in hand, Morgana smiled
broadly at the two would-be whores in front of her. "Ladies," the hot
witch purred as she spread her arms wide to put a hand on each woman's outside
shoulder, "may I say how wickedly lovely you two look?"
The
looks on the women's faces had been quickly shifting from the passion of being
felt up in public by strange men, to the concern of having been caught by some
kind of hotel detectives. Now they began shifting back. The beautiful
black-haired woman's compliment was clearly sincere, her voice was a bedroom
growl, and somehow her light touch on their shoulders felt as arousing as if
she'd clasped their pussies. Pussies that were already wet and ready for
action.
"Why
don't we go down to your room," the enchantress continued, "so you
don't get caught up in any of this little mess? And you can tell me about these
wonderful outfits." With just the slightest pressure on their shoulders,
both women turned inwards and Morgana's arms went behind them, firmly
shepherding them down the hall.
Morgana
found Mrs. Mayor's key card tucked into the waistband of her garter belt and
smoothly slid it into the room lock as soon as they reached the door. It had
only taken a matter of seconds for her to spirit the two bewitched town matrons
from the crowded hallway into the privacy of a simple, but nice suite.
The
women, confused and excited, stopped in the short entry hall and turned to
watch this incredible stranger. After closing the door, Morgana gave them
another enticing smile and strode forward. Stepping directly between the two
and grabbing a hand of each as she went, she pulled them behind her into the
main room. When she got to the large sofa she released their hands, spun around
and sat.
"Show
me," she said simply, but firmly.
Both
the buxom woman and the lanky one knew what she meant and both struck a
provocative pose, just as they'd been doing for each other just minutes before
in the hotel hallway. Neither could remember ever feeling so attractive and so
confident in their sexiness as when they'd put on their luxurious but naughty
lingerie.
"No
wonder all those men wanted you," Morgana crooned.
"They
were going to pay us, too," the woman in the tight bustier said proudly.
Morgana
wondered what her husband, the sheriff in a small suburb town not far from the
one where the Amorous Goods mansion was located, would think about his wife
bragging about her success at selling her body. "Were you going to give
the money to your husband? Tell him he was your pimp?" she asked
provocatively.
That
seemed to catch up Mrs. Sheriff and she went still. But her companion in red
closed the gap between them, put one hand along the side of her friend's neck
and the other directly on the cleavage formed by the squeezing together of the
woman's small tits.
"The
mayor and the sheriff not only using call girls," the chubby MILF said to
the skinny one, "but actually pimping them out to other men." The
excitement in her voice was palpable and now Morgana knew what their original
plan had been and how it had led to their current predicament. Though they
still didn't realize they had a predicament.
"You're
going to be call girls for your husbands? That is a sexy game," the
green-eyed beauty cooed.
Mrs.
Sheriff looked deep into Mrs. Mayor's eyes as she reveled in the feeling of her
friend's hand pressing her tits through the lace. "Pimping us out to other
men," she repeated, as she felt her pussy juices flow. She'd never pursued
this line of fantasy before, but now she suddenly wondered if the car show guys
were still out in the hall.
Morgana
could practically see the thoughts in the woman's face, the enchanted garments
were certainly doing their job of enhancing and amplifying the women's deepest
fantasies. She got to her feet and moved in until the three were in a tight
group. "That is a very sexy fantasy," she said. "But maybe one
that should be kept among us girls? Are you sure your main clients would like
the idea of following after a bunch of other guys?"
The
women realized that by main clients, the stranger meant their husbands and it
made them stop and think. "She's right," the mayor's wife said, with
a touch of disappointment. "My Craig's jealousy would probably outweigh
his excitement in giving me sloppy seconds -- or fourths or fifths, for that
matter," she added with a laugh. "And your Jim's way too butch to
share."
"On
the other hand," Morgana said as she stroked each woman's cheek,
"what would they think about you having a female customer just ahead of
taking them on?" She kissed Mrs. Sheriff lightly on the lips and then did
the same to Mrs. Mayor.
"A
female customer?" whispered Mrs. Sheriff. She smelled an earthy musk with
a touch of incense, but didn't realize it was coming from the undergarments
she'd bought earlier that day. If she'd known to ask, Morgana could have told
her it was a sign that the charm on the garments was heating up, searching to
see if the idea of being with another woman was among her fantasies so that it
could strengthen the idea and make it seem the right thing to do.
"They'd
love it," declared Mrs. Mayor. Then she added in a more derisive tone,
"Yes indeed, Craig would love to watch me eat a cunt. But do you think
he'd suck a cock for me?"
"Hell,
no!" the two friends said together and all three women laughed.
Morgana
kissed both women lightly again, but this time in their cleavages. "And
what would they think about you hiring a call girl for yourselves?" she
asked. She bent and kissed the tops of each pair of tits more deeply.
"We'd
be the 'Johns'. Or maybe the 'Janes'," giggled the sheriff's wife.
"If
we let a woman hire us we could be faking our desire for her," the mayor's
wife mused. "But if we hired a woman..."
"We'd
really have to want to enjoy her charms," the MILF in black said, completing
the sentence. She reached behind the beautiful stranger's head and pulled her
back to her chest.
Morgana
grabbed Mrs. Sheriff's small tits tightly and ran the flat of her tongue wetly
up and down the small cleavage. Suddenly she raised her head and looked at the
woman, but without giving up her grip on her boobs.
"Wait
a minute!" she said with fake shock. "I thought you were the call
girls? Are you saying I should be one for you?"
She
turned to look at Mrs. Mayor who was handling her own big boobs as they spilled
over the top of her crimson corset. The witch moved her hands from the small
tits to the big ones. "Are you saying you want me to do this for
you?" She squeezed and kneaded the soft melons. "Are you saying you
want me to be your whore?"
"Yes,"
said Mrs. Mayor as she held up one of her tits and squeezed it so the big
nipple jutted towards Morgana's mouth.
After
sucking and nibbling on the thick nub for a while, Morgana straightened. She
saw that Mrs. Sheriff had shed her loose, flimsy dressing gown and peeled down
the cups of her bustier so she could play with her own tits. Pretty rough play,
noted Amorous Good's resident sex expert. She reached out and took hold of one
of each woman's nipples and squeezed and twisted them.
"When
are your husbands supposed to be here?" she asked.
"Not
until tomorrow," answered Mrs. Mayor.
"Call
them and tell them to come now," the Delacroix Witch said.
Both
women's eyes went wide. "Now?" one said.
"It
will take them a while to get here, won't it?" The other one nodded.
"Then you'll have time to enjoy your lady whore before you get to be
whores for your favorite cocks. We're going to have a very good time together,
but in the end, it's cock you really want the most. Isn't it?"
The
sheriff's wife was nearly desperate to get her mouth between this stunning
woman's thighs, but at the same time she knew the stranger was right. What
would be even better than eating the woman's sweet cunt, would be having a cock
fucking her hard from behind at the same time. "Sybil," she said to
her partner in lust. "Where's your phone?"
Mrs.
'Mayor', Sybil, looked around for her purse, found it on the small dining
table, and pulled out her phone. "What should I say?" she asked, her
thumb poised over her husband's speed dial number.
Morgana
said, "Don't call, text." She walked over to where Sybil stood and
while looking directly into her eyes, she stripped off the crimson corset. Then
she took the phone from the woman's hands, stepped back and aimed the camera
lens at her. "Hold them up," she directed. Sybil lifted her hefty
tits and Morgana snapped the picture. Then she typed something into the message
app and handed the phone back to the increasingly excited woman.
Mrs.
Mayor read, your whore can't wait, come now. room 517. She looked absolutely
wanton in the attached photo. A wicked smile spread across Sybil's face as she
hit Send.
Morgana
took the phone back and stepped over to Mrs. Sheriff. "Now you," she
said.
"But
it will be coming from Sybil's phone."
"That
will only make it more exciting for him, Betty," Sybil said as she walked
closer. "He'll think about me taking the photo of you and wonder what that
means."
Morgana
finished removing the bustier from around the thin woman's waist and threw it
over to where Sybil's corset lay. "But it will actually be your own
personal whore who took it, Betty," she said while gazing into the woman's
wide eyes. "And you and Sybil can decide later if you tell them about your
call girl or keep that as a special secret between yourselves.
"Now,"
she continued, "pull those nipples out far, let him know what you
want."
Mrs.
Sheriff actually blushed. How did this woman know that she secretly desired to
have her tits treated roughly? She'd never even been able to tell her husband.
"Do
it, Betty," said Sybil. "It's about time for him to give you what you
want."
Betty
cupped her hands under her small tits and pinched each nipple between thumb and
middle finger. She pulsed them tightly three or four times, then pulled the pink
nubs out until the skin of her tits was clearly stretched. Her face turned up
to the ceiling, eyes closed and mouth open in passionate pain. Morgana's own
cunny twitched as she snapped the hot photo.
As
she typed in the same message, Morgana asked, "What room number?"
"517,"
came the answer from behind her.
Morgana
looked into Betty's eyes again, silently asking if she agreed with Sybil's
instructions to bring both men to the same room. The slender woman nodded. The
AG witch typed it in and handed the phone to Mrs. Sheriff so she could enter
her husband's phone number. The woman's eyes shone when she saw the photo of
herself and then she also hit Send.
"What
now?" the thin blonde asked.
Morgana
cupped the woman's black-silk-covered crotch. "Now we see if your bush is
as full as your girlfriend's."
As
Betty "Sheriff's" eyes automatically tracked to the thick mass of
dark brown hair between Sybil "Mayor's" thighs, Morgana pivoted
around her hip, never taking her hand off Betty's cunt as she moved behind her
so she could also gaze at the buxom brunette's furry crotch.
Sibyl
was thrilled by the attention. After taking two steps closer to her friend and
their mysterious 'call girl', she stopped and then stepped her right foot out
to the side, spreading her legs. "Do you like?" she asked coyly.
"I
want to feel that hair rubbing against my nose, cheeks and lips as my tongue
drills down to your pink center."
"Yes,"
the mayor's wife replied boldly. "I want you to work for it; to fight your
way through to the hidden treasure at the heart of the jungle."
"Will
it be just as much of an adventure to find your treasure?" Morgana
whispered into Betty's ear as her hands moved to the waistband of the black
panties that had been pulled up outside the garter belt suspenders. "Let's
see."
And
with that she dropped to her knees behind the blonde, peeling the underpants
down as she went. When the undies hit the floor, Morgana quickly knee-walked
around until she was in front of the woman. A woman who was suddenly on the
edge of shock from an adrenaline rush of excitement.
Betty,
who had woken up this morning simply intending to live out a mildly kinky
fantasy, now found herself with an amazingly beautiful woman kneeling in front
of her. Looking at her exposed crotch. Her newly, very exposed crotch.
Meanwhile, her closest friend Sybil stood just feet away with her fingers
buried in her own thick bush.
"Ooh,"
purred the kneeling woman. "You've gone the whole other way haven't you?
But so pretty." And with that, the raven-haired beauty leaned in and
planted a gentle kiss on Betty's naked vulva. It made the middle-aged
housewife's legs tremble so much that she stumbled backwards the two steps to
the sofa and sat on its front edge. Morgana followed on hands and knees, a
panther stalking her prey. "Spread," she said when she reached Betty
and the sheriff's wife opened her legs wide.
"Oh,
you shaved!" gasped Sybil. She'd followed behind the exotic stranger as
she crawled to the sofa and was now staring over the woman's shoulder. She'd
seen Betty's crotch incidentally while changing at the gym, so she'd expected
to see the normal patch of silky, light-brown hair. More closely trimmed than
her own healthy bush, but still, covering all the pink. Instead, she saw just a
small triangle of hair sitting at the top of her friend's mons. And below it? A
beautiful, pink seashell. At least, that's what came to mind as she gazed on
the delicate inner lips just poking out from the blonde's pale outer lips. She
only caught a quick glimpse, however, because suddenly their whore's head was
blocking the view.
"Oh,"
came the guttural sigh from Betty's throat as the stranger lavished a much
harder kiss on the pretty pink treasure she'd uncovered between Mrs. Sheriff's
legs. Not usually that vocal or aggressive in her lovemaking, Betty found
herself commanding the woman to do more.
"Yes,
kiss it, kiss it hard! Now lick it, get your tongue inside me. I know I'm
already wet, can you taste me?"
Morgana
could taste her and it was very nice. But she still had a mission to complete.
So, while she gave this bewitched woman the best cunnilingus Betty had ever
had, her hands quickly moved to unsnap the garter from the stockings. That
done, the silk stockings were efficiently rolled down to the blonde's feet. In
a side thought, Morgana realized that the spell that had made this lingerie set
such a powerful aphrodisiac, had clearly also made each piece both flexible and
robust. There was not a single snag or run in the stockings, although many
women had worn them over the years in equally passionate situations. And they
had fit this almost too-skinny woman perfectly. The witch had no doubt that if
she put them onto her own much more powerfully curved gams, they would fit just
as well. God, she loved good magic.
There
was just one more piece to go, the garter belt, and Morgana knew she'd have no
problem slipping it over Betty's hips. But she decided to wait for the coup de
grace. The hold of the spell was weakening with each piece that came off,
54 min
June 09 Amorous Goods: The Cameo Pendant Part 2 & True Love's Path
Amorous Goods: The Cameo Pendant � Part 2
Holly becomes the
Cameo Exhibitionist tease.
Based
on a post by ShowTime8.
Listen to the
Podcast at Explicit
Novels.

On
Sunday when Holly was getting ready to meet Chloe and Lisa for lunch she wanted
to wear something fun and picked out a dark red strapless tube dress. Holly
wore the pendant, having dismissed that it could be the cause of her strange
behavior.
On
the other side of the restaurant was a group of five guys, they were a little loud
but not obnoxious. When they noticed Holly and her friends they called out a
greeting and paid them compliments but they kept their behavior respectful and
didn't start bothering them. Throughout lunch one or two of the guys would look
over and if they made eye contact would smile and wave.
Holly
enjoyed the attention from the guys and Chloe and Lisa seemed to like it as
well. They ended up making a game of it where one of them would jokingly tease
the guys by sitting in a way that showed some leg or cleavage. Holly got really
into the game and forgot her concerns about her exhibitionist behavior, Holly
could feel herself getting a little hot and felt the urge to push the game
further.
The
next time it was Holly's turn she kept an eye on the guys and when one of them
looked toward Holly and her friends again she quickly pulled her top down and
flashed her tits at him. The guy's reaction was extremely gratifying, he went
dead still and his eyes were wide and staring. After a few seconds Holly pulled
her top back up over her tits. No one else in the restaurant appeared to have
seen Holly flash. The guy's eyes then moved up to meet Holly's and she put a
finger against her lips to signal him to stay quiet. The guy grinned and and gave her a thumbs up before turning back to his
oblivious friends' conversation.
When
Holly turned back to Chloe and Lisa she saw they had been watching her and they
were stunned by what she had done. Chloe leaned forward and lowered her voice,
"Holy shit Holly, I can't believe you just flashed that guy!" Chloe
sounded impressed that Holly could be so daring. Lisa too was impressed,
"Wow, I never expected you to do something like that. You've never been
that comfortable with being seen naked, you're like a new person now."
Holly
flushed with a combination of arousal and embarrassment at her friend's praise.
Lisa's comments in particular got Holly thinking, it was true that she had
never been comfortable with nudity in public places. Even when she was trying
on clothes with friends she would always go to another room to change. The
recent acceptance and even urge for her body to be seen was really outside her
character. Despite the absurdity of it Holly could only think that the pendant
had in some way changed her.
When
Holly got home she immediately took the pendant off and resolved to go to
Amorous Goods and see if she could get any detail of what was going on with the
pendant.
On
Monday when midday came around Holly headed straight to Amorous Goods, hoping
that Vikki would be there alone as she didn't think she could talk about her
experiences and concerns if Dylan was there. To Holly's relief the store was
empty except for Vikki who was sitting behind the counter reading what looked
to be a comic book. When Vikki looked up a flash of recognition went across her
face but she didn't seem surprised to see Holly again.
"Hi,
welcome back. Is there something I can help you with?"
Holly
wasn't sure where to begin but Vikki's expression of patient expectation helped
ease Holly's anxiety about sounding like a nutcase.
"Well,
is there anything you could tell me about where the pendant I bought came
from?"
Vikki
gave Holly a considered look before replying.
"I
don't mean to avoid your question but I need to know something before I can
give you an answer. Has there been any out of character behavior from you or
people around you?"
Holly
flushed as her recent exhibitionist escapades came to mind and nodded,
"Err yes, I've done some odd things recently."
Vikki
followed up with another question, "Were those things sexual in
nature?"
Holly's
flush got even deeper, and she couldn't bring herself to speak so she just
nodded.
In
return Vikki nodded in confirmation, "The name of this store isn't just
some attempt at fancy marketing. Amorous Goods is an apt description of pretty
much everything in the store."
Seeing
the look of confusion on Holly's face, Vikki pressed on. "The items in
this store through some means, usually enchantment or spiritual imprinting,
have some kind of sexual effect on people. What the effect is and who it
affects are different for each item but for the things in this store, the
effects all relate to sex in some way."
Holly
didn't fully get what Vikki was saying but she got the gist of it, "So you're
saying the pendant is responsible for the way I've been acting?"
Vikki
hesitated for a moment, "I can't say for certain but most likely
yes."
This
was a bit much for Holly to process. it was one thing to suspect that an object
might be affecting you but it was another thing altogether to be told point
blank that the object was enchanted or ... what was the other thing Vikki had
said?
"Spiritual
imprinting?" Holly frowned and then her eyes went wide as she realised what that meant. "Are you saying that the
pendant is haunted and I've been possessed?"
Vikki
shrugged, "It's possible. When you've worn the pendant, has there been any
instances where you haven't felt like yourself or where you feel like you
didn't have control over what you were doing?"
Holly
shook her head.
"Have
you been seeing things in the corner of your eye that weren't really there or
been hearing inaudible whispering?"
Holly
shook her head again, "No."
"Well
I think that rules out haunting, the pendant most likely has some kind of
enchantment on it."
Holly
frowned, not sure if that made anything better, "If you know that this
stuff does weird things to people, why are you selling it?"
Vikki
grimaced, "A distant relative of mine passed away and left me the
store." Vikki gestured at their surroundings, "It's a nice place but
this isn't what I want to do with my life. There's too much for me to just keep
it in storage. I guess I could have just dumped everything at the tip but even
with their strange quirks that would have been a waste."
Vikki
saw that Holly was unconvinced, "I know a person who has a professional
interest and experience in dealing with 'special items'. She examined all of
the items in the store and she said there wasn't anything here that was overly
dangerous. These items are more about influencing behavior, if someone is
mindful of what they're doing and how they normally act they can tell whether
they're being affected."
Holly
thought for a moment, "So you think that since I know that the pendant is
trying to make me do things I can stop myself from doing them. If that's the
case, why didn't you tell me that that the pendant would turn me into some kind
of sex pervert?"
Vikki
raised her eyebrows, "Would you have believed me if I had?"
Holly
sighed and shook her head, "No. Even now I'm still finding it hard to
accept that magic is actually a thing."
"If
you find you don't want to keep the pendant, bring it back before the end of
the month and I'll give you a refund."
Holly
nodded, "Thanks Vikki, I'll think it over."
During
the rest of the day Holly thought about what Vikki told her. Part of Holly
still found the idea that items could be enchanted or haunted to be unreal, but
the earnest way Vikki had explained it was very convincing. It was both
comforting and creepy that Holly's desire to show herself off was caused by the
pendant. Holly didn't think she was all that bothered by her exhibitionism but
not knowing why it had started had been deeply concerning.
When
Holly got home that night, she spent some time studying the pendant. She didn't
get any kind of vibes from it but then again how would she tell if she was
being influenced by it or not. Holly wanted to know just how much of an effect
the pendant had on her.
The
following day Holly decided to not wear the pendant and chose her clothes with
deliberate care to avoid being revealing but without reverting back to the
highly conservative way she used to dress.
As
the day went on nothing of note happened. When Holly talked with her male
co-workers they were friendly but there didn't seem to be the same kind of
spark of interest. Holly knew that was in part due to her being a little more
withdrawn and self aware of how she was behaving.
There didn't seem to be many interested glances from people she walked by or
saw on the train either. Maybe Holly just wasn't aware of it but it seemed to
her that she had gone back to not being noticed.
When
Holly got home she felt a little flat, it had been a typical normal day at work
but for Holly normal was dull. Without the frisson of excitement she got from
getting attention or showing off there had been nothing to liven up the day.
Holly knew that if she wanted to she could dress in revealing clothes and show
herself off without the pendant. Holly still enjoyed getting attention and
didn't think that exhibitionism was wrong. The problem for Holly was whether
her desires were her own or if they were caused by the pendant.
Getting
ready for work the next day Holly looked at the pendant for a good long moment
before deciding that she would take the risk of wearing it. Holly rationalized
it to herself as seeing whether she would be able to resist the pendant's
influence. Even if she couldn't ,Holly considered that her behavior hadn't been
all that risky, she had been daring but not reckless .
Holly
put on a dark blue plaid skirt and paired it with a short sleeve royal blue
blouse. When she checked her appearance she saw that her clothes suggested a
school girl outfit for an adult but without taking it to the level of being a
slutty fantasy costume.
Due
to mornings being quite cold now Holly wore a navy coat on top of her outfit.
She was grateful for the extra layer of clothing as she felt it would be
another barrier to keep any exhibitionist impulses under control, at least
until she got to the office and took the coat off.
Shortly
after Holly arrived at work Scott and Alice stopped by her desk and invited her
to come and get some coffee. Alice complimented Holly on her skirt prompting
Scott to take a long look at what Holly was wearing before smiling and saying
it looked like a skirt. Holly rolled her eyes but there was a certain hunger to
Scott's smile that gave her a small thrill.
About
midmorning Holly got a call from Harrison asking if she would be able to take
on another urgent job. Holly didn't really want to do it but she knew how just
under the pump his team was. "Sure, I can put off a couple of other jobs
and take this on."
Harrison
breathed out audibly in relief, "You're a champion Holly. If you could
come by my office soon I'll run you through the details"
As
Holly made some notes about the job she was currently working on and sent an
email to George, her mind pictured Harrison. Harrison was ruggedly handsome and
looked like he kept himself in great shape. Holly thought about adjusting her
clothes to show herself off to him but quickly dismissed it as an unbelievably
stupid idea. Harrison was one of the partners, it would be highly inappropriate
and Holly preferred to have his respect rather than risk him forming an
impression that she was shameless eye candy.
When
Holly arrived at Harrison's office he looked up from his computer, seeing Holly
in his doorway he smiled and was about to greet her but paused as he took in
what she was wearing. It was only for a moment but Holly swore she could see an
appreciative look on his face. Realizing he had paused Harrison shook his head
a grinned ruefully, "Sorry, it felt like I was going to sneeze."
Having
smoothly recovered from his slip, Harrison invited Holly to take a seat. Holly
graciously pretended nothing had happened but inside she felt like she got hit
with a spike of adrenaline.
That
feeling was quickly extinguished when Harrison started to give her the details
of work that needed to be done. Holly got a sinking feeling that her day had
just been hijacked, "When do you need this by?"
Harrison
grimaced, "Ideally early tomorrow so we can review it and then get the
client to look it over and confirm the amounts. Is that going to be
possible?"
Holly
knew that the only way it was going to be possible was if she stayed back
tonight. Holly suppressed a sigh before slowly nodding, "Yes, I can get it
to you for review by early tomorrow."
Harrison
could understand why Holly was not all that enthused about the job and knew
that she would have to stay back late to get it done, "I'm sorry to dump
work on you like this again. I'll talk with George and we'll arrange to give
you an extra day of leave to make up for this and the other job you did for
me." Harrison smiled at Holly, "Thanks Holly, you've been
amazing."
Holly
couldn't help returning Harrison's smile, he was a really charming person, she
could see why he almost always went to initial meetings with prospective clients.
Holly took the folder of documents from and went back to her desk to get
started right away.
At
lunch time Scott and Danny stopped by her desk with an invitation to come to
lunch with a group of their co-workers. Holly thanked them for the offer but
let them know that she was too busy. The guys seemed genuinely crestfallen that
Holly wouldn't be able to come to lunch, Holly felt a flush of warmth at the
thought of the guys wanting her to join them but those thoughts aside to focus
on Harrison's job.
After
a quick break to eat something Holly focused herself on getting the work done.
As she had predicted it was quite late at night by the time she was able to
finish and have the drafts sent to Harrison.
Looking
at the time, Holly's mind then went back to the last time she was alone at the
office late at night and she could feel herself getting aroused at the memory
of walking around the office naked and then masturbating on the meeting room
table. Holly was tempted to put on a repeat performance but another glance at
the clock told her that she didn't have long before the time the cleaners
usually showed up.
Holly
was a little disappointed at the missed opportunity but she knew that she could
try it again on another night if she wanted to. However, Holly was still
aroused, after a long day focused on work and possibly due to the influence of
the pendant she still wanted to do something daring. Holly tried to come up
with an idea while she packed up her desk but nothing came to mind until she
went to grab her coat. Holly's mind raced as she considered her idea and
whether she could go through with it.
Holly
grabbed her bag and coat and went to the bathroom, standing in front of the
mirror Holly undressed until all she was wearing was her shoes and the pendant.
Holly then carefully folded her clothes and placed them in her bag thankful
that her bag was large enough for them all to fit inside. Holly then put her
coat on and buttoned it up. The neck of the coat was wide allowing the pendant
to be visible and showing a hint of cleavage. The coat only went down a couple
of inches past her crotch, if she bent over or sat down her cunt would be
exposed.
Holly
stared at her reflection and decided she needed a little something more to make
herself more appealing. Rummaging through her bag Holly took out some hair
clips to pin her hair up and then put on some vivid red lipstick.
On
the walk to the train station Holly was very aware of the lack of clothing
under her coat. There was the not unpleasant friction from her nipples rubbing
against her coat as her tits bounced with her stride. There was also the feel
of the cool night air caressing her bare cunt and bringing its wetness to her
attention. While she was waiting for her train Holly was tempted to flash the
commuters on the other platforms but she resisted the urge as there were too
many people.
During
the middle of the week, the trains at this time of night had very few
passengers but there were enough that Holly felt a heady mix of nervousness and
excitement at her current state of dress. The train carriage Holly entered had
three other people, an older couple at one end and down the other end a man who
looked to be in his mid to late thirties. Holly headed toward a seat nearer to
the man. The seat she chose was in full view of the man, there would be nothing
in the way to hide her body from his sight. As she sat down the coat went up
higher on her legs revealing enough of her smooth pale thigh that anyone would
wonder what, if anything Holly was wearing under her coat. Placing her bag on
the floor Holly looked at the window and pretended she was just calmly riding
the train home.
Holly
could feel the man's gaze on her and a glance at his reflection in the train
windows confirmed that he was looking at her with interest. Holly shivered but
it had nothing to do with how little she was wearing. The man's eyes roaming
over her body stoked her arousal and Holly wanted to take things further. It
would be easy to simply open her coat and give the man a view of her naked body
but she could also go to him and give him a close up view. Holly hesitated,
going up to a stranger and exposing herself was a massive step, that was
probably the pendant's work. Aware that the opportunity to do anything could be
passing by Holly found she wouldn't be fully satisfied with passively showing
herself, she wanted something more direct, to watch his eyes devour the sight
of her and gauge how he reacted.
Holly
turned to face the man and he realized he had been caught looking at her. He
immediately looked away but Holly decided she wasn't going to let him get away
like that.
"Hi,
how was your day?"
The
man seemed a little flustered that Holly was talking to him, "Uh; not so
bad"
When
Holly smiled the man wasn't able to hold her gaze, his eyes shifted to the
pendant as being the only safe place to look.
"That's
an interesting looking pendant you have there. What's the picture of? I can't
quite make it out from here."
Holly
smiled, "Would you like to take a closer look?"
The
man seemed caught like a deer in headlights, Holly didn't wait for a reply she
picked up her bag and moved over to sit opposite to the man. Holly leaned
forward in her seat to give him a closer look at the pendant but also gave him
a view down her coat at her unrestrained tits. The man was dumbstruck, he
leaned closer to look at the pendant but Holly noticed his eyes shift downward
to look at her tits.
Holly
pulled back slightly and the stranger's eyes raised to meet hers, "So what
do you think?"
The
stranger had trouble speaking but eventually managed to croak out a one word
answer "Amazing"
Holly
bit her lip, "Would you like to see something else?"
The
stranger could only nod.
Holly
leaned back against the seat and slid a little lower, she then slowly unbuttoned
her coat, took hold of the sides and pulled it open. The man's eyes almost
popped out at the sight of Holly's naked body, "Jesus!"
The
stranger slowly moved his gaze down her body taking in the stunning sight of
Holly's chest flushed with arousal and her soft pink nipples hard as rocks.
When his eyes arrived at the small triangle of auburn pubic hair Holly parted
her legs and revealed the glistening pink of her cunt. The stranger was rapt
not believing what was in front of him.
Holly
was outwardly calm but inside she was roiling with arousal, the stranger's
response was absolutely delicious. Holly noticed a shifting bulge in the
stranger's pants and she felt her cunt twitch. It had been so long since Holly
had last ha
0 min

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