ExplicitNovels

Being a human ‘Guinea Pig’.

Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. 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' in the car, Boss," the hood responded. 'Boxed' probably meant

the same sort of device that Sgt. DeMosa had placed my phone in on the

ride over.

"You can walk home if you want," Magdalena told me. "I'll leave your phone fifteen blocks down along your home route."

"I was planning to take the metro," I shrugged.

"Do you have any form of I D?" she regarded me smugly.

“Outside of my bracelet, Nope," I groaned.

"Still walking home?" she smirked.

"Sure.

I doubt the local cops will know what to make of me, a person, not in a

car, walking around," I made one more stab at levity. "Maybe they will

assume I've slipped my leash and some frantic old lady is out looking

for me."

Flame slapped me on the back. "You're funny. I like you. Boss, can we keep him?" Flame chuckled.

I

was making a fool of myself, but not in order to entice a brutal

psychopath. Sprinting for the exit was looking like a better plan every

second and that was a definite disconnect from reality. For the love of

God; they had a running car sitting right here. They could either run me

down or get ahead of me and repeat the bedroom beating, this time on

concrete instead of silk sheets.

"No

Brigit," Maggy replied. "We know where he lives and what metro he

rides. He'll be easy enough to pick up if we feel like it." Oh,

psycho-Flame's name was Brigit; how poetic. That was pretty much a last

gasp attempt at exhibiting any control over my life. I obediently got in

the car then we drove away.

For most of the way, Flame listened to music, Silent kept scanning our surroundings outside the car and Magdalena studied me.

"What's your story?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?" I shrugged and exhaled a puff of breath.

"You

fight then you fold up. You fight then fold, again and again. There is

no rhyme or reason to it that I can fathom," she stated.

"Normally

I fold up," I reasoned. "This whole fighting back thing is new to me. I

never knew that freedom would be so, so painful."

"Beyond

numerous physical agonies and violations, I've lost my aspirations, my

comfort and most likely my sanity. Still, now that I've tasted it, I

wouldn't ever want to live without it," I revealed. "Monday morning, I'm

going to slap the crap out of the first woman who touches me, unasked

for. There is a small likelihood I may still have a girlfriend."

"I'm

going to wear my own damn pants too, none of that tight shit. If the

press corps wants to see how happy I am to see them, they'll have to

take me to dinner first," I spouted my nonsense. "If Isobel fires me,

well fuck her,

figuratively speaking, of course. I think I've gone through so much

crap I actually could stomach spending time with, another, strange woman

if it meant leaving this place behind."

"I thought we could be friends," Maggy smiled seductively sweet, and lethal.

"Seriously?"

I gasped in horror (genuine). "What the hell gave you that idea?"

Brigit Flame punched me in the arm proving she was paying attention.

"Ow!" I rubbed my latest injury. "Magdalena, did your last boyfriend

commit suicide, or was he shot trying to escape?"

That outburst earned me two more blows from Brigit, but it felt oddly worth it.

"What makes you think we didn't part on good terms?" Maggy inquired playfully.

"Got it, shot while trying to," I got punched again, "Ow!, escape."

"See, that's what I don't understand about you," Magdalena shook her head.

"This

resistance makes no sense. You can't win. You are clearly being hurt by

Brigit when you act out," she stared at me, "yet, you keep fighting

back with no goal that I can foresee."

"That's

the magic," I coughed, I was really in some serious pain. "I can't win.

If I play along, I lose. If I fight, I lose. At least if I fight, I

feel better about myself as a human being."

"Magdalena,

Brigit, Silent," I grinned. "We are all going to die and I don't mean

everyone in this car, this city, or this country. The whole Human Race

is doomed. That's not me ranting. We really are headed for extinction.

Now, if there is a God, and he or she remembers us, after the last of us

are gone, how do you want to be remembered?"

"For

me, it is easy. Do I want him to see me alone, in a dark basement,

raped and violated and really questioning if another day of life is

preferable to death? Or, would I rather be remembered for standing up in

Isobel Diaz's office and telling her to her face in a loud voice that

she was a sow and a monster, knowing none of you women had the guts to

do that," I related.

"Do you really believe in a Divine Power?" Maggy's eyes bore into me.

"This

world is a retched Hell," I shrugged. "If I didn't believe in some

nebulous spiritual presence and the hopes of a better afterlife, I

couldn't see the point of carrying on. I don't expect any sort of

revenge in this world or real justice."

"This

isn't a struggle of Good versus Evil. It is Evil versus Banality and I

don't give a crap which one of you wins," I pointed out, "which I guess

is a victory for Banality."

"You

are very interesting," Magdalena made up her mind. I had failed utterly

to impress upon her my fading sanity. Maybe that's what she liked about

me. I wanted to scream.

"I'll

call you later this week, we'll get together," she informed me. There

was nothing for me to say, no response that was appropriate since this

was an order, not a request. "Oh, I almost forgot," she added. She took

out her phone and scanned my bracelet. I thought this was supposed to be

some sort of secret affair, but what did I know.

I had no clue where we were until the limo pulled to a stop.

"Get out," Brigit barked. If I saw her again, I was going to call her Flame, fuck her.

After I got out, Flame threw three things at me rapid fire. It was my

phone, my battery and my phone chip. I dropped the battery but it looked

okay. I was in front of my complex.

"It

was interesting meeting you, Israel," Magdalena said before the door

automatically shut. I stood there as the huge vehicle drove away. I

stood there for a minute as the reality came crashing in. I had

survived. I wasn't some quivering mound in some psych ward. I wasn't a

plaything dragged off somewhere to be a toy until Monday morning.

I

had survived. I had to cling to that because otherwise the hammer blows

to my mind would send the whole mad house of cards crashing down.

Returning to Angel.

I put my phone back together and made my way inside.

Angel

being such a light sleeper was a huge pain in my ass. I had barely

opened my door when there were several shapes moving around my living

area, some rising and one coming right at me.

"Israel?" Angel sound scarily worried. I must have looked as bad as I felt.

"I

need a shower," I muttered. I could make the shower. I knew I could

make it to the shower. On the periphery I noticed that none of the women

I had left here had departed in my absence. I had no idea what they

were expecting to see when I got home, but I don't think me in my

current state was it.

No

one blocked my way down the hall, so I made it to the bathroom okay. I

puttered around for a few seconds unable to come up with a cohesive

plan. I gradually formed the idea that the tuxedo shouldn't end up on

the bathroom floor, so I retired to my room, got a few hangers for it

then returned to the bathroom.

I

was piecing things together by the time I exited the shower. I had made

it home a little past midnight, showered for maybe ten minutes and

finally realized that I was both thirsty and starving. With a towel

wrapped around my waist, I stupidly exited the bath and started down the

hall toward the kitchen or living room divide.

All the girls were staring at me with a mixture of horror and awe.

"Oh

God, Israel," Roni started coming at me, "what happened to you?" What

had happened to me? I had to think about that for a second. Roni

gracefully felt around my bruises. "Maybe we should have you checked out

at a hospital."

"Been

there, done that, not doing it again," I muttered. "I've pain-killers

and bruises heal and fade. I don't need the domestic hassle with the

police right now." Angel was painfully quiet and I could feel her

anguish. She kept telling herself that she was supposed to protect me.

By default, every wound on my body was a failing on her part in her

eyes.

"What happened?" Kuiko was already crying.

"I wouldn't give the woman what she wanted so she had an associate beat me," I shrugged then winced.

"Why didn't you give her what she wanted before they did this to you?" Venus worried.

"I

couldn't. She wanted me to look at her the way I look at Angel," I

informed Venus. "They hacked this morning's security feed for my

apartment then posted it for the client's viewing pleasure. I understand

that Angel, my liaison, was quite popular."

"Wait, don't they need a warrant, or something like that?" Samantha gasped. "Angel?"

Angel grabbed her badge and gun, spun and headed for the door. I had to do something.

"Angel, if you go out that door, you are doing it for yourself, not for me," I told her. Angel spun around and shouted at me.

"I have to do something!"

"Welcome

to my life," I was looking at Angel but addressing the room. "If you do

something, they win. If you do nothing, they win. The object is to do

the things you can live with the consequence of." I let that sink in. I

didn't know if any of them believed in heroines, but I didn't.

"What do we do?" Aniqua asked. I had to think over the whole concept of 'we.’

"We

celebrate the fact that I walked through that door under my own power

by grabbing some food and drink then crashing for the night," I

outlined. "Tomorrow will be better and we can go from there."

"Maybe there can be more than two in bed?" Venus prodded hopefully.

"Venus,

I'm going to bed to cry, a lot. My nightmare only ended with

Magdalena," I related. "It started much earlier, like begging a certain

cop to not give Angel crap over pointing a gun at her head."

"Magdalena?" Samantha furrowed her brow. "That's an odd name."

"Well her associate called her 'Little M'," I mumbled as I turned back into the kitchen. There was a deafening quiet behind me.

"Israel, did you sleep with her?" Roni asked. I gave a reply in the positive. "Did she scan you?" I repeated the positive reply.

"Let me see," Kuiko moved up and scanned me. "Oh fuck," Kuiko meeped. "Magdalena Keverich."

"So, wait, that name sounds familiar," I tried to focus.

"Maggy Keverich is head of the Keverich crime family," Angel murmured.

"Oh, one of Maria's kids," I guessed. "What the fuck was she doing at Isobel Diaz's soiree?"

"Wow, I never thought they would be trying to identify my remains after being missing for twenty years," Samantha shakily joked.

"I think that is a question none of us need to be asking," Aniqua referred to what the fuck Maggy was doing with Isobel.

"Does she know about any of the rest of us?" Venus inquired fearfully. I had one shot left in me.

"Well,

she saw Angel on the video and I kept screaming out Kuiko's name as I

pounded her doggy-style, but the rest of you should be okay," I stated

coolly. By the deflating of tension around the room, everyone knew I was

joking, except Kuiko.

"You

really cried out my name during sex?" she excitedly beamed joy and

happiness while minutely hopping up and down. "That was so awesome!"

"It will be awesome right up until they put a bullet in the back of your head," Aniqua teased.

"Alright,

everyone else clear out," Angel took command. "We have our man back.

Now go away and no ringing of the doorbell until nine o'clock."

A

short time later I had put as much food and water into my stomach as

that protesting organ could endure. As I turned toward the bedroom, I

took Angel's hand.

"I can stay on the sofa, if you want," Angel offered.

"When it was at its worst, getting back here to you was one of the things that kept me going," I confided.

"Looking

back on that moment when Isobel told me what she'd done to our private

time, I think I realized that she didn't understand and would never

understand what we had there. They could have been a hundred thousand

miles away, or in the next room, but they weren't with us," I explained.

"That intimacy is ours and no batch of electrons will ever change

that."

"I don't get you," Angel shook her head but she gradually smiled.

"Join the club," I agreed.

"I'm furious and you seem to be taking this so well," Angel noted.

"I'm

furious, heart-broken and sad Angel, but letting that master me now is

admitting they got to me again," I related. "I'm tired of that. I'm

going to get back at them."

"How?" she asked.

"For

starters," I sighed, "we find a place they can't listen in on." Angel

nodded. Crawling into bed after that was easy. I rolled over and faced

the far wall and the blinds covering the window while Angel sat on her

side, staring at my back. She sounded awake anyway.

At

last the tears came, a sniffle, a few tear drops sneaking passed the

eyes until the dam burst. Angel was good. She waited until I rolled over

and rested my face into her chest before trying to comfort me. I cried

until I ran dry but still the sobs went on until sleep finally took me.

It was with some trepidation that I woke to my phone ringing.

"Let

it ring," Angel counselled me. If it was this late, past four in the

morning, it might be important so I crawled over my friend and retrieved

my phone. It was from a 'Mary Wollstonecraft.’ I didn't know her.

Still, I'd made the effort so I took it.

“Israel

Jensen. We are friends. If you are tired of your current life and wish

to escape to an uncertain, hopefully better future, we can help you. If

you do not reply or reply in the negative, we will understand but can

never contact you again. If you wish our help in 'vanishing' then type

'yes' and we will initiate further contact. This message will delete

itself from all call logs in fifteen seconds.”

Trap, or escape hatch, I didn't know for sure.

Yes

I had made the pledge to abandon my society. The message deleted itself.

"Who was it?" Angel mumbled. I couldn't tell her the truth. She was still a cop.

"Wrong

number," I yawned. I double-checked my call log and, as promised, there

was no record I could access of the call ever coming in.

The

fantastic nature of it all allowed me to go to sleep within seconds.

The betrayal of my tiny group of 'friends' didn't bother me. I was

hardly making their lives better. If I had meant anything in their

lives, they would treat the next man they came across with the same

sense of respect and understanding they'd shown me. If not,

The

doorbell went off a bit past seven in the morning. I flicked on the

monitor to see who was there while Angel sat up muttering various

expletives. I didn't recognize the two women but I was becoming familiar

with the clothes emporium the gang used.

"Good morning," I yawned.

"Mr. Jensen, Detectives Riga and Kwan of the G E D," they introduced themselves. Angel snatched the remote from my hand.

"Po, this is Angel," she spoke up. "Make a note that I am on premises."

"Sure thing Angel, duly noted," Detective Kwan grinned.

"Kwan

is a friend," Angel gave me a tired smile. Her friend maybe, but as her

partner Seneca had proved, being a friend of Angel didn't seem to

transfer over to me. Kristi took her badge and gun from beside the bed

and headed out to the door. I heard her activate it and the two cops

come in. Me, I was more concerned about a dozen things including my

little text message that was only a few hours cold.

I

slipped on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt before going out to my

'guests.’ Our exchange was curt. I was tired and tired of cops. I didn't

warrant civility from their perspective.

"What is this about?" Angel inquired.

"It is a 33 0 7," Detective Riga responded. That was rude.

"Under-age

sex?" Angel seemed confused. "I'd like to watch over this one, if

that's okay?" It was odd to hear a cop requesting something from a woman

that wasn't a request. Riga was resisting.

"Sure,"

Kwan nodded. "You are his ghost after all." I assumed that 'ghost'

meant the minder the Metropolitan police had placed on me.

"Let me get some fresh clothes on and I'll be right back," Kristi told them.

"Sure," Kwan agreed.

"What's

he like?" Regina smirked as Angel passed her. Angel jerked to a halt

and I could sense the tension boil up inside her. "You haven't posted

any reviews yet."

"Have

you ever considered how demeaning that is for him?" Angel turned on

Riga. Their faces were only inches apart. "We are all in the same room

and you are treating him like a piece of furniture or a slab of meat."

"Back off," Riga glared. "All the guys have them. It is no big deal." Angel laughed.

"No big deal?" Angel snorted. "How many did we lose last night?" Riga balked.

"Eight," Kwan revealed softly. I wasn't shocked, I was past caring. I did smile.

"Shit," Angel muttered.

"What are you smiling about?" Kwan glanced my way.

"I

hate you, cops that is," I grinned. "Every loss for you is a victory

for mankind in my book. Detective Riga, I'm sure if you come home this

evening and find that someone broke into your home and stole your TV,

you'll miss the TV more than any of the nameless men that are no more

than a case file on your computer."

"Your attitude was noted in your file too," Kwan sighed.

"I'll be right back. Israel, try to not start anymore fires," Angel groaned. She departed for her condo across the hall.

"My distain and distrust for police is in my file?" I kept grinning.

"Good,

I'd hate for us to get off on the wrong foot," I said. "I'll tell you

right now, I'm going to be as little help as possible because I have

zero belief you have my best interest at heart. If you'll let me, I'll

get some socks and shoes on. Then I'm going to call my lawyer. I'm

pretty sure that at 7:15 on a Sunday morning, she's got nothing better

to do." I started heading for my bedroom.

"Jerk,

you need to be adjusted," Riga growled. I turned around and walked

right at the two G E D detectives. Their hands gravitated to their

Tasers.

"Back off," Kwan cautioned me. I stopped, staring into Riga's eyes.

"You're pathetic," I sneered. She popped me in the ribs. It was an automatic response to having her authority mocked.

It

wasn't particularly hard. The blow was meant to shock me and erode my

willingness to resist. I gritted my teeth and fell over, all the way

over. The two cops stared down at me.

"Oh

come on," Riga chuckled. "I didn't hit you that hard, you wimp." I came

back with a feral grin. I forced myself painfully back to my feet.

"A

pathetic, evil, brutal thug who would rather beat up a defenseless man

than save a life," I ground out. Riga looked to Kwan in confusion. "Come

on Cop, your partner will never report your abuse. Why are you stopping

now?"

"What is your problem?" Riga studied me.

"You punched me for giving you a poor job review," I grunted, "and you are asking what my problem is?"

"Go

get your shoes, Mr. Jensen," Detective Kwan commanded. I retreated,

making the call to Capri O'Hara, my Public Defender lawyer, once I was

there.

She

didn't ask. It was clear that I'd woken her up and she was a bit cranky

about it, but she agreed to meet me at the G E D offices. Angel was

coming in from the front door, looking a bit disheveled, when I came

from the back.

"He's really annoying," Riga commented. "I don't know how you put up with him."

My most recent bout of pain must have shown on my face.

"Israel, are you okay?" Angel studied me.

"We had to tune him up," Kwan answered. "He got in our faces." Angel flinched.

"Who hit him?" Angel asked in a low growl.

"It is not worth it," I begged her.

"I hardly touched him," Riga confessed.

"You hardly touched him," Angel repeated, still looking at me. "Israel, lift your shirt."

"No," I sighed.

"Israel, they'll never learn if you don't try," Angel pleaded with me. I lifted my shirt.

"Mother-fucker," Kwan whispered. "What happened to him?"

"There was no report on this," Riga added. My torso was a roadmap of pain.

"You still think he's mouthy?" Angel grumbled.

"He's

not jerking your chain," she glared at her fellow cops. "He really

hates us and he has no faith in any level of professionalism from those

in our occupation. After spending a few days with him, I have to agree.

We treat men like shit. No one cares and by the way you are looking at

me, like I've lost my mind, I can tell you don't understand."

"Damn

it Angel, I told you to take this to therapy," Kwan intervened. "This

guy is screwed up, but your reaction is normal. You want to protect him,

but this isn't the way. He needs professional help. Write him up." That

was terribly chilling.

"Po, he never crossed the line. You know that," Angel said with a level of disbelief.

"Angel, I think we are back to why I don't trust any of these bitches," I tried to sound defiant.

"Mr.

Jensen, Israel, I believe you were raped in college by forty-one women.

You never received treatment for that tragic event, but you clearly

need it," Po Kwan regarded me. "You need help." I laughed. It hurt, but I

had to.

"No

crime so this is not your jurisdiction," I stared back. "If there is a

crime, draw up warrants for the rapists and the security personnel who

covered it up. Start making some arrests. Those women are hardly master

criminals." Kwan didn't immediately respond. "You are not going to do

that which leaves you with a dilemma."

"You

can't legally commit me because you women cover for each other," my

face twisted in distain. "You may think I'm nuts, but without admitting

the root cause, the police are powerless to act on that information. My

lawyer will bust open your ovaries if you try to put me away illegally

and I won't voluntarily commit myself."

"Angel, help me out here," Kwan urged.

"I

think we are back to why I don't trust any of those bitches," Angel

parroted me. "Po, you can't get a sexual exemption without a criminal

charge to present to a judge. We both know that. That means you are

willing to drug him, basically wiping out the man he is."

"You

didn't used to be like that," Angel bashed her friend. "You are

supposed to be a freaking expert on Male Rape and Recovery. I brought

Israel's case to you because you used to consider the man in the

equation. Now you are coming across as a flesh peddler."

"That's not fair. There are mounting pressures to get results," Kwan replied.

"Results? Israel has been operating above and beyond code," Angel countered. She was referring to how often I was having sex.

"Did you listen to your boy on Thursday?" Riga rejoined the clamer.

"That's politics," Angel fought back. "Since when did the G E D handle First Amendment issues?"

"Since

the very existence of the G E D's bothers me, why don't we figure out

why they are knocking on my door so I can get back to my life?" I

interrupted.

"Excellent

idea, Israel," Kwan sighed with relief. Since no one complained, off we

went. I traveled with the two G E D officers and Angel followed behind.

In

short order, I found myself in an interrogation room downtown at the

Police Plaza station. Even early on a Sunday morning there seemed to be

hundreds of cops around. I'd made my desire for legal representation and

Angel had assured me she'd be close by, monitoring the situation.

That

stopped helping after a few minutes. I was alone in the presence of my

enemies, on their home ground and at their mercy. My rational mind was

telling me that a race was on. They would want to talk to me before my

lawyer arrived. Kwan and Riga came into the room, acting casual and

trying to put me at ease. Riga offered to upload something to my

computer.

"You want me to surrender my right to counsel?" I snorted. "No way."

"Very

well," Kwan graciously allowed. "Detective Riga and I are going to have

a conversation while we wait for your lawyer to arrive. Don't mind us."

They began to go over my case. Apparently, me, or someone using my

identity, had lured two fifteen year old girls to a club for the purpose

of sex.

The

girls met someone who was supposedly representing me. He had tried to

lure them from the club, but one of the girls became concerned and

contacted security. Security grabbed the guy, questioned everyone

involved and contacted the police. Thirty minutes with the G E D and the

culprit had folded like an origami crane.

Why

had they waited so long to contact me? Well, they had tried. My phone

wasn't working. They had progressed logically and made a bracelet I D

request. Routine right? Their plea went straight to the EPD (Executive

Protection Detail) of the same Metropolitan Police Force and got no

farther. My alibi for not being involved seemed to be a non-starter.

Then

my bracelet logged my sex act at midnight with Magdalena "Little M"

Keverich, one of the biggest mobsters in the city. Theoretically, that

was an alibi but it seemed Magdalena wasn't returning G E D calls at the

moment. Had I been terrified as opposed to emotionally numb, their

little dog and pony show might have worked.

I rested my head on the desk so Riga slammed her palm down next to my head.

"I thought I saw a cockroach," Riga grinned. I smiled back.

I

wanted make a snappy comeback like 'you must have been looking in a

mirror,' but that was more than my shot nerves could deliver. Instead, I

mustered up enough defiance to cross my arms on the table and rest my

head on them. Riga tried to get the banter flowing once more, but her

partner stopped her. She knew I was past being tricked into a

questioning session.

They departed and fifteen minutes later Capri arrived looking harried yet alert.

"Don't

worry, Israel," Capri smiled warmly. "I've looked over the case and

they already have a complete confession from a co-worker of yours, Troy

Berry."

"What?" I struggled back to clarity.

"Your

co-worker hacked a few of your files, found pictures of you in college

and created a Sexbook page for you, but with his contact numbers," Capri

kept her tone gentle.

"Why?"

"Well, as I warned you, have less impressive sex," Capri tried to joke.

"Troy's

reviews were, hmmm, less than stellar," Capri stated. "Okay, apparently

he's a freak with a hair-trigger. He likes women to do degrading

things. Added to that, he had a 'virgin' porn collection that even the G

E D found to be, extensive." 'Virgin' porn was basically a girl's first

time sexual experience.

I

had heard some went beyond normal. Things like slavery (the male

enslaving the young woman, women holding men in captivity was a totally

different 'healthy' genre), rape (man on woman), the mythical male

sexual dynamo disguised as a neighbor or teacher or hitchhiker, and even

'long lost father' scenarios.

"Troy

used your identity on Sexbook to attempt to entice under-age girls for

sexual encounters. According to what I was shown, he or you were

romancing ten girls in the local area. They seized your home and work

computers, both of his, plus Sexbook handed over their records," Capri

informed me. It was taking me a few seconds to digest all of this.

Troy

had moved fast, but then Sexbook was clubbing on steroids. I had made

the news Tuesday. On Thursday, I had my rant on National Television. By

accident, I had become a bad boy, a firebrand preacher cursing the

establishment.

"At last count, you have over 17,000 friends," Capri added.

Not only did I not want the attention, some shithead had been talking to God knows how many women, promising things in my name.

"Can I see Troy?" I mumbled.

"I don't advise that on the grounds you'll try to kill him in front of numerous witnesses," Capri gave her legal opinion.

"Why did he do this?" I wondered while meeting Capri's gaze.

"He's a pervert and you are a young, good-looking guy who tries to treat women decently," Capri reasoned.

"Fine, where did he get any pictures of me? I don't keep any," I told her.

Capri dialed up her tablet and showed me 'my' page.

"First off, what is this thing still doing active?" I asked bitterly.

"The account is in your name," Capri stated. "They can't cancel it without a court order or your consent."

I had 324 unanswered 'requests.’ My chat log was a hydra nightmare. How the fuck did fifteen year old girls even get on this site?

"How do I cancel this?"

"Call them first thing Monday morning and, use the proper credit card, whoops," Capri gulped.

"I'll

start on a court injunction now," Capri said. I nodded as I opened my

picture page. I shivered and was profoundly grateful I hadn't eaten yet.

"Israel?"

"These,"

I gulped, "are Bethany Fremont's, they are from the collection she took

of me when we were dating." Some of these were really, really private,

barely on the correct edge of pornography.

It

would have been easy to believe this was done on purpose. Bethany

wanted to hurt me so that I would behave. She didn't want to share me

with the world.

"Have

the police check to see if Troy hacked Bethany's system too," I told

Capri. "After she dumped that video of me, he probably figured she had

other tidbits of my past."

"We

don't need to," Capri suggested. "They are not going to bring charges

against you and you’re not required to assist them in their job." The G E

D wouldn't want to climb the legal barricades that defended Bethany's

home system but her work computer was more vulnerable.

"Sure," I shrugged. "Can I leave?"

"There

is the matter of a member of the Organized Crime Taskforce wanting to

talk with you," Capri smirked. "Care to tell me what that is about?" I

showed her my wristband. A scan and a whistle later,

"I

am not holding you responsible for any of the shitty things that have

happened in your life, but have you ever considered that you live under a

curse?" she poised.

"That joke isn't funny," I mumbled.

"I wasn't joking," she said in all seriousness. "Your luck is horrible."

"Thanks for pointing that out. I am not talking to any more cops if I can help it."

"I'll go tell them," Capri stood. She exited and was gone about three minutes.

"Now they want to give you a physical," Capri questioned. "Is there anything I need to know?" I stood and took off my shirt.

"Oh God," she gasped. "What happened?"

"I don't want a talk about it and I don't want a physical," I responded. "What can you do?"

"Have any of them seen you like this?" Capri asked.

"Yes, Detective Angel Kristi had me show G E D Detectives Riga and Kwan."

"Okay,

saying 'no' is wrong," Capri mused. "They'll charge you with

self-endangerment. Let their doctor look you over, determine these are

not self-inflicted, then refuse to press charges."

"Don't

give them anything," she continued. "Don't make anything up. Tell them

your lawyer has advised you not to make a statement at this time. Screw

them, force them to make a case first. Since they don't have a

cooperative victim, they need a crime scene or witness. Is that going to

happen?"

"Not likely," I looked down.

"Fine;

let's go then," Capri reached for the door. "Your cop friend Angel,

she's not your friend. You wouldn't be going through this latest

indignity if it wasn't for her." It was nice of Capri to express that,

but I'd already figured that one out.

She

still wanted to punish the people who had abused me, but she'd

sacrificed me to do it. The OCT cop was pissed at being blown off by

Capri. Riga, Kwan and Angel went down to the medical office with Capri

and me. Angel tried to talk with me, to be supportive but I ignored her.

I was being petulant, but then I would have been going home if it

wasn't her stunt with me showing off my bruised chest.

The

exam and resulting argument was fatiguing. Capri was my strength; my

sword and shield who refused to give an inch in my defense. In the end, I

kept my anger and sobs to myself and exited the station in one piece.

"Let me take you home," Angel said, touching my elbow.

"No," I looked her over, too tired to give a fuck.

"You go home. If you are going to let the shit go when I tell you to

let it go, come by once I'm home. Until you can do that, stay on your

own side of the walkway, please." Angel blinked then turned violently on

Capri.

"What the fuck did you tell him?"

"I

told him that by showing your G E D buddies his bruises, he was forced

to endure yet another strange women running her hands over his body, you

idiot," Capri shot back. "That's great instincts if you are a cop,

lousy ones if you are his friend."

"Israel had the crap beaten out if him," Angel countered. "Detectives Kwan and Riga had to know what shape he was in."

"Why?" Capri snapped. "Why couldn't Israel tell them? Why did it have to be you?" Angel had no immediate response to that.

"It

was because Riga hit me," I filled in the blanks for Capri. "She wanted

to show both of them that it wasn't okay to pummel me, because someone

had beat them to it."

"Do you want to go back inside and press charges?" Capri stopped us.

"Ms.

O'Hara, if the woman who tells me she loves me isn't going to arrest a

cop who beats me up the moment that cop confesses to the deed, why in

the hell would I waste my time making charges that never could be

proven?" I sighed. I looked at Angel. "I'm not asking you to not be a

cop. I'm not asking you to be someone else. I love you the way you are,

but I do ask that you be honest about what you do and what that means to

me," I looked upon her with weary eyes. Capri was far less polite.

"Angel,

next time you are about to do something questionable, ask yourself

this; would you do it to the Mayor on live television?" Capri growled.

"If

the answer is 'no', you should ask yourself why the hell you are doing

it to somebody who needs your protection a whole lot more," Capri kept

going.

"It is not that black and white and you know it," Angel glared.

"Why not?" Capri jutted her chin forward.

"Listen

Detective Kristi, I think you are a good person. I think Israel likes

you, though I can't fathom why," Capri explained. "But you and I are

faced with compromises every day, choices Israel doesn't have. It is

only grey because you let it be grey. That is the reality of the

situation. I've chosen to keep this case and my career is over because

of it."

"I

know exactly what I'm doing and it's not because I have a fatal

fascination with Israel's irrational personality," Capri grinned

viciously. "Not a single lawyer in the Public Defender's office wants to

consult with me on this case. I find that disgusting. They tell me we

need to survive as a race. Wrong. What we should be asking is do we

deserve to survive as a race."

"Not everyone can afford the price of your morality," Angel stated. "Are you sure Israel can? Israel, can you?"

"With

me it is easy," I said. "Morality costs me nothing because I stopped

caring about what they are going to do to me. I have no future here

anymore. If there is an 'us', it won't be in this callus society."

"What are you going to do?" both women asked.

"Live free of fear for starters," I felt relieved to get those words out.

"Let's get you home," Angel requested.

"It will take me twenty-seven minutes," I responded. I took the metro every day after all.

Angel gave an anguished groan then stormed off. Capri walked me to the station.

When

I got home, Angel was waiting on the sofa. My 'freak out' neurons were

so flat-lined I simply walked past her and got lemonade out of the

refrigerator and took my place in the corner of the living room.

"Israel, I have to be a cop. It is the only thing I know how to be," she started.

"I understand," I shrugged.

"Then let me help you," she insisted.

"Angel,

you need to understand that in most cases you can't," I met her eye to

eye. "I don't want you to. You have to accept that. If there is a legal

problem, you aren't in the room with those people, your friends and

colleagues, I am. If there is a prosecutor, she's one of them. If it is a

judge, the same. A jury, twelve of the same people who see me as an

ejaculation machine who gives 'good sex.’"

"I

don't want you to beat yourself up over this," I continued. "You make

me very happy and that's something I wasn't sure I'd ever experience

again. The reality is that you can't watch over me twentyfour seven. It

will be the same commuters, the same cops like Riga and those two

patrolwomen, and morally bankrupt leaders like the Mayor."

"If

you really care about me and my free will, let me fight this war with

the skills I've earned dealing with this prejudice all my life," I

stressed.

"Israel, look at yourself," Angel came to me. "You aren't winning."

"I'm not winning in a way you would understand," I looked up at her. "Trust me, I'm winning the only victory I can achieve."

I

finished the lemonade then answered my messages. It was the 'usual'

gang plus a few co-workers, commuters and Ms. Silverhorn, my boss. I

invited the girl gang over, lied to Francesca about how last night went

and how I was looking forward to work on Monday. The ladies responded in

different ways to Angel's anger with me.

Venus,

Samantha and Aniqua sensed an opportunity. Roni was sticking with Angel

while Kuiko hovered around nervously. In that moment, I wanted to go

back on the drugs and let all of this go away. I could commit myself and

all of this would stop. Confronting this terrible weakness breathed the

dwindling spark in my intellect back to life. Top of my fucking class.

I had been sitting in my corner when I popped up.

"Ladies,

please give me some forbearance. There is something I need to do. I

need to get some items from the store then I'll be right back. I'd

appreciate it if you went back to your places, get your computers and

return here," I looked them over.

"What is all of this about?" Venus was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"I

can't tell you everything yet," I evaded "but I plan to make myself a

pain in the ass for as long as I can get away with it. I need help

getting the ammunition to fight with."

"Is this going to be illegal?" Aniqua asked.

"Eventually. I withhold comment because I don't want to lie to you," I answered.

"Sounds

fun," Kuiko nodded with a grin. "Come on girls, what do we have to look

forward to? Thirty-five years at a lousy job, maybe a child and ending

up in some retirement complex exaggerating about the four or five sexual

encounters we had in our lives?"

"Crazy-K,"

Aniqua sighed. "This isn't a game and there ain't likely to be a happy

ending." She stared at her friend for several seconds. "All for some cock we have never had?"

"Aniqua,

you were the one who told me how furious you were when you saw the fear

in Israel's eyes," Kuiko reposed. "Feelings are pointless if we never

act on them."

"I'm

going to regret this," Aniqua groaned. The rest of the group looked

around to see who was going and who was staying. No one was making for

the door.

"Okay Israel, it looks like we are all in, to what I have no idea," Roni smiled. "Next?"

"Computers for the rest of you," I instructed.

"Look

up any birth records for the past ten years; forget North America. Look

at South America and Asia primarily. You need to look for abnormalities

like duplicate figures or low production for male child products."

"What would those be?" Venus asked.

"No

clue. I've never even contemplated caring for a child," I shrugged.

Long, long ago, childrearing was 'women's' work. Society was moving away

from that model with men taking greater parenting responsibility when

the plague broke out. In this day and age, having a father at all was a

rare luxury. Women took care of their offspring because no one expected

the man to hang around.

"Angel, we need to go get some supplies," I requested.

"What are we going to get?" she inquired even as she stood up to join me.

"Less

surveillance," I gave a wan smile. She nodded. We'd had a part of this

discussion earlier. For the government to access a home security system

took a warrant but it was ludicrously easy to find a judge who would

grant one on a male for the flimsiest of excuses.

The blind spots in external systems were much larger in neighborhoods like ours, places where we could talk openly.

"I'm not going let you run off a cliff, Israel," Angel announced. I shook my head in resignation.

"Why is it so hard to believe I plan to live a life worth living?" I regarded her.

"You

are a wounded individual. You've made some life choices I have a hard

time understanding. You are picking fights with cops," Angel looked

pained.

"Why

haven't you written me up yet?" I murmured. "It would be a lie, but no

one would call you on it. If I'm out of order, shouldn't a police

officer have me corrected?"

"It is not that easy, not with you," she admitted.

"I'll

make it easy on you," I said. "Are we in a safe place?" Angel nodded.

"The 'Vanishers' contacted me last night. I took them up on their offer

to get out." Angel put a hand on my chest and stopped my forward

process.

Her

face went through the permutations of 'was he kidding', disbelief and

finally that sick sense of despair that I had abandoned everything she'd

devoted her life to.

"Israel," she whispered. She didn't ask why.

"Your

lack of faith in my love for you is disappointing Angel Kristi," I put

my hand on hers. "I love you. I'm not bailing without you, and as many

of the others as I can convince to come along," I tried to smile.

"They don't take women," she was clearly back to thinking I was unhinged.

"I'm

not going with them," I chuckled painfully. "They're just another bunch

of women telling me what to do. Fuck that. I'm saving myself."

"But, what, why agree to their help?" Angel sputtered.

"Do

any of us have the skills to disappear?" I smirked, painfully yet

again. "I don't think so. That means, to escape, I have to use them as

much as I can without being snared."

"This is completely insane," Angel tried to convince me.

"Angel,

you are questioning me running, but the only other option is to see

whether they break my body before they break my mind," I explained. "I

need to disappear to survive. Think about it. Besides, all I need them

to do is get me out of the city. I already know how to defeat the

bracelets."

"How?" Angel still looked disbelieving.

"Angel, I was held prisoner for 87 days. How come the cops didn't find me if I had a bracelet?"

Angel blinked and her mouth opened in surprise.

"Oh fuck, how?" she inquired.

"There

is a flaw in the system, not the hardware," I related. "If you cut the

bracelet, or forcefully remove it, the device lets off an emergency

alarm, unless the wearer is both dead and verified by a corner to be

dead."

"She killed you," Angel muttered. The 'she' was the Aurora Slasher. Angel was a pretty good detective too.

"Yep.

She injected me with God-knows what which flat-lined my vital signs.

Four minutes later, the bracelet dutifully recorded my death and went

into storage mode. It was given a coroner's code, shut down and then she

cut it off me, no problem. Finally, she revived me," I told her. "That

didn't work on all her victims, some didn't make it back."

"If the authorities know about the flaw, they would fix it," Angel reasoned.

"Recall

eight million bracelets? Over a flaw that even most cops don't know

about?" I pointed out. "Only licensed coroners and Federal Investigators

know that trick. There simply aren't enough male homicides for others

to figure it out."

"Ugh,

you've pretty much annihilated any hope of me getting a good night's

sleep for the next week or so," Angel murmured. "Is there anything else

you want to hit me with?"

"Yes, I want to have sex with Kuiko," I said as I started walking again.

"We are not attached," Angel got out a few seconds later. "You don't have to ask."

"I respect your feelings Angel. I don't want to hurt you," I shrugged. "I know I do, but I don't like it."

"Okay, but why Kuiko? Aniqua is, more of my body type," she was studying me.

"Several reasons," I related.

"I

think it will help the group's tension level if I'm with someone

besides you occasionally. I also think she's trying really hard to

respect my space. Lastly, but most importantly, I think she'd be fun in

bed," I finished.

"You are slipping," Angel stated softly. She was referring to my mental state.

"Yes.

Either I go full throttle, or I go numb," I tried to make her

understand. I was a rape victim. I would never stop being a rape

survivor, but I could try to stop being a victim. Full throttle wasn't

fighting through, it was stealing something good from the demons. It was

a little more fuel to keep the fire going.

I

had no illusions that the demons would be banished by a woman's

embrace. That was a fantasy. As Angel said, I was wounded, but I wasn't

dead; not yet.

"Okay,"

Angel conceded. "I'll stick with you, but I'm still going to give you

hell when I think you are acting crazier than whatever the fuck is normal for you. Deal?"

"Deal," I smiled. Maybe she was starting to understand me, or trust me.

The

journey to the store and back again was comparatively easy. Angel even

agreed to front the bill though she couldn't figure out why I wanted

surgical tape and wooden curtain rods cut into twelve inch sections. I

told her 'I have a plan' which did nothing to ease her mind.

When

we returned, the rest of this little troupe was actually working

diligently at the task at hand. Once I had the supplies stashed away,

except for the dowels, I was working on those, I put the 'Kuiko Method'

into play. Venus was the first recipient. I quietly moved up behind her

and began massaging her shoulders.

She was about to come back with a snarky remark when she turned and realized it was me.

"You

seem tense," I said. "Would you like a massage?" Venus nodded. In

reality, you went after men until you got one. Only in romance novels

were men overtly sensual. Venus was working cross-legged beside an end

table as I maneuvered behind her.

I

knelt behind her, my legs spread to either side of her hers, my crotch

against the small of her back while my hands caressed her shoulders. I

moved along her upper arms, neck and mid back while Venus murmured

contentedly. After roughly fifteen minutes, I finished up by wrapping my

arms around her abdomen and kissing her on the nape of her neck.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently.

"Oh, oh yeah, thank you," she sighed happily.

"Thank

you," I responded. I pushed off her back and stood. All the other women

were looking at me with varying degrees of desire. Only the twinkle in

Roni's eyes revealed that she had figured out what I was really up to.

I

moved as sedately to the bathroom as I could. Once inside, my resolve

slipped and I shivered. It was not their fault. It was none of their

faults. I had to believe that. I had to shore up my mind with that

understanding. I couldn't fold up. I had to keep it together. I went

back out. It was Aniqua's turn. A smile, a few words and some light

contact. I could do this. Compared to what I planned to do on Monday, I

had to shore myself up now.

(Monday)

Angel

told me to stop whistling as I got dressed. She had stopped arguing

with me about what I was going to wear last night. I think in the old

days it was called a hymn before battle and I was certainly prepared for

a fight. I called Kuiko before I left and asked if we could have

privacy at her place for about an hour when she got off work, provided I

was still eluding police custody. She was more than happy to oblige.

To be continued

By FinalStand for Literotica

Becoming a seducer, dabbling with love, then gigolo duties.

Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. 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 from all

directions.

"I've

got you," Angel whispered into my ear. She must have sensed me starting

to shiver. Whatever courage I could work out from that promise was set

aside as a blur came charging at me.

"You came!" Kuiko squealed. "I was afraid you would be overcome with a rare bout of common sense."

Panic was overwhelmed by the phrase 'rare bout of common sense.’ I snickered nervously.

"Hug?"

Kuiko vibrated. The complication wasn't hugging Kuiko; it was having to

hug every other woman at the party. I assumed that Jean Paul would go

without. I opened my arms and Kuiko cautiously flowed into my embrace.

The tender moment was destroyed when Kuiko took her first deep breath of my aroma. She really was a total spaz.

"You've had sex!" she squealed even louder. Oh shit! I was sure that the Deli three blocks down heard that.

"I outta shoot you," Angel hissed at Kuiko.

"Really, that's so cool," Venus hopped up. "It didn't even take you 28 fucking days either."

As the girls started closing in, Kuiko realized the enormity of her mistake.

"Oh my God," Roni gasped in real, fearful understand. "This is what your life is like."

Yeah, it was different for Roni when the sexual liaison that the guy was trying to keep quiet about was with her best friend.

"Bracelet,"

Samantha demanded. There was nothing I could do; it was the damn law.

She scanned my shackle, blinked then looked up at me.

"Really?"

she turned to Angel. Detective Kristi was stone-faced. "Four times?" I

had started out intending to have one long, sensuous erotic session with

Angel. I took my time. I really took my time. For an hour and a half we

took comfort in each other's bodies and energy. When we finally

finished, we were exhausted and Angel Kristi had a new definition for

love-making.

We

rested for a bit then mutually decided to take a shower. Half way

through the process, I suddenly found her staring at me excitedly. That

was round two, brutal, raw and feverishly carnal. We cleaned up, went

back to the bedroom, trying to figure out what had just happened, the

thing in the shower. We seemed to have a positive consensus concerning

our first encounter.

She

turned to me, our hands touched. We couldn't find the words so we

filled the void with a kiss. Thus began round three. Angel was more

dominant that time around because that was her nature and I had been

willing to submit somewhat without losing my sense of self. Angel was so

enraptured and grateful for the experience, that it made it all

worthwhile.

We

agreed we needed a shower once more. We agreed we could do it together

without worrying about having intercourse again. We were doing okay

until Angel was washing her hair. She put the shampoo bottle in the

holder but as she did so, she tilted her hips back and her buttocks

pressed against my slumber prick. Thus began round four.

Next

thing I knew, I was powerfully aroused, I had her pressed face-first

against the shower wall and I was slowly engaging her while she pushed

back with every stroke. We were lucky we didn't turn into prunes after

all the water that ran over our bodies. Angel and I were still trying to

put some sense or reason to the morning when Roni showed up.

"Angel, you cured him," Venus declared.

"No, I didn't," Angel countered.

"Who did then?" Samantha pressed.

"He's not cured," Roni stepped up.

"But

he had sex four times in the last five hours," a different women said

after looking over Samantha's shoulder. "He has to be cured."

"No!" Kuiko shouted. "He's in love." That was not a concept I was willing to face. Love had been so terribly cruel to me.

"Calm the fuck down,"

Angel commanded. "Israel and I are not,” she stopped. "Israel, are you

in love with me?" she touched my arm and inquired in disbelief. See, me

being in love with her would make the entire past two days of our lives

make sense, so we both denied it. With my life lessons in mind, I did

the only thing I could. I turned and walked rapidly back toward my

condo.

"Israel?"

six different female voices called out. No one seemed to get the

message that walking away was a clear signal I wasn't going to have this

discussion. I picked up my pace. I made it inside my place, but was at a

loss how to continue further. My domicile wasn't safe. No place in the

city was safe for that matter.

I was staggering around the living room, trying to reason out if the bathroom was safer than the bedroom when the doorbell rang.

"Israel,

we need to talk," Angel requested. I found it remarkable that there was

this confidence within me that if I told Angel to leave me alone, she

would.

I

flicked the lock and she came in. We had this détente for several

minutes before Angel gave up on attempting to bring order out of the

chaos we were immersed in.

"Israel,

if you, if you like, no, if you care, I mean, if you, have feelings, no

damn it, if you love me, I, I wouldn't mind, no, I mean, I would like

that," she stammered.

"You

realize this makes our lives worse, not better?" I reminded her. Being

in love meant there was something else that could be taken away from us.

Love was an intoxicating fantasy. In reality, love, loyalty and

devotion were counter-productive to what men were supposed to do. Women

could hold the desire to fall in love, but to wish a man to fall in love

with you was selfish.

"Worse?"

Angel groaned sarcastically. "Telling my superiors I've fallen for they

guy I'm supposed to be watching over is going to go over like an ember

on a glacier." It took me a second to realize that was Angel's way of

saying she loved me without using those exact words. "What are we going

to do if I am transferred?"

"You move in with me, I guess," I replied.

"Israel,

you wouldn't let me in your condo when we first met. We were shouting

at each other yesterday," Angel made excuses. I didn't know if that was

to give me an out or convince her not to make the commitment.

"Any

relationship with me is going to be far from perfect," I told her.

"I'll give you everything I can. I can't promise more than that."

"If I wake you up in the middle of the night wanting sex, what will you do?" she sighed.

"Scream," I answered honestly.

"Oh,"

she snickered ruefully. "This is nuts. We are so wrong for each other,

but, if my boss blows up and I don't move in, Kuiko will camp out on

your doorstep in a misguided attempt to protect you."

"I've

never been more worried about someone I think honestly cares about me

doing me harm by accident," I related to Angel my feelings toward Kuiko.

"I,

um, see where you are coming from," Angel nodded. "If she stays over

for the night, she sleeps on the sofa. I find her less irritating as I

get to know her, but I don't trust her."

"Okay Angel, being referred to as a possession makes me uncomfortable," I explained.

"Fine, I'll put in an Attachment Request on Monday," Angel decided.

"Please refer to my last statement," I expressed my concern.

"You don't want to become attached?" she worried.

"I

don't know what that would mean to you," I reposed. "If you think it

means you can better protect me, I have to say 'no.’ If you want to do

it so we can hang out together then I'm okay with it."

"You are giving me conditions? Do you think you are the only man I can get with?" Angel grumbled.

"I don't care, Angel," I held my ground. "You aren't a contest to me. I'm not measuring you against anyone."

"If

you must know, I can get with a woman who is richer, can protect me

better and make my life easier. I don't think I can find someone who can

care for me more than you do though," I explained. "I certainly don't

want you because you are a cop. I want you because you scream and yell

at me, but then you apologize and mean it."

"There is no way you are going to let me be in charge, is there?" Angel stared at me intently.

"I sincerely doubt it," I confessed. "It's not just you. I don't know if I will ever release all control to a woman again."

"I

swear to God, Bethany Fremont and I are not finished," Angel pledged. I

didn't want Angel to harbor a grudge against Bethany, but I wasn't

about to become combative with Angel over the matter either.

"What do we do now?" Angel muttered.

"We go back to the party," I sighed. "I couldn't forgive myself if I left Jean Paul alone."

"You don't even know him," Angel questioned.

"On

the off chance he is anything like me, I can't leave him alone," I told

Angel. With that, we returned to the party and the flaming Perdition

that was feminine civility and need.

(Saturday Night)

For

the life of me I couldn't figure out how I ended up with six women in

my tiny condominium. Even the delusion that I could control my own

household was collapsing around me. I put my dresser against the bedroom

door before changing for Isobel's meat market affair. The absurdity of

it made me giggle nervously, I was barricaded in my bedroom so I

wouldn't get molested as I dressed for an outing where I knew I would

get molested.

Outside

of my bedroom, I was the victim of the whole 'coterie' mentality among

women. Angel and Kuiko made perfect sense and natural allies in creating

a protective or possessive bond around me. Expanding upon my growing

feminine network, Aniqua and Roni were organic additions, being friends

and roommates of the first two.

Venus

and Samantha had been included out of necessity. The first four

couldn't keep an extended cordon around me to stop the other complex

mates from crowding in. If those four closed in too much, it defeated

the purpose of trying to limit my proximity anxiety. By some arcane

process, Venus and Samantha had been the ones who migrated from the

intruder side of the equation to the containment side.

Once

dressed, I moved my dresser and returned to my crowded living room. I

was confronted again by my fundamental ignorance of female

communications. Angel and Kuiko could (almost) freely approach me. Roni

and Aniqua had thrown a certain level of compassion and respect my way.

My comfort level with them was established. Samantha and Venus were on

the other side of the emotional dividing line, their desire for sexual

contact was their first priority.

In

no way I could fathom, the first four had decide on how much contact

Venus and Samantha could have. I wasn't consulted. Hell, I wasn't aware

of the actual conversation where that had been decided, but it clearly

had. Venus and Samantha staying within those invisible guidelines, if

they had strayed, I assumed the others would intervene, was more

understandable.

If

any woman broke the rules, the other five would expel them from my

presence. My opinion was not sought out and I wasn't overly offended by

my circumstance or insulted by the way I was being treated. In society,

women naturally protected their interest in men. At least I had the

choice of my 'shot-callers', Angel and Kuiko aka the Odd Couple and the

by-rules of this little group included not pressing me for sex.

I may have fallen in love with Angel, but it was Kuiko who opened my eyes. Sure, I was still primarily a cock and

balls show. As my odd little Asian friend had showed me though, I could

contribute a great deal to the peace with hugs, a smile and interactive

conversation. I had the impression this was a totally new approach to

most of the women with me, everyone but Kuiko.

Promptly

at 8:15 pm the doorbell rang. The security system showed me a trim,

strongly built woman with black hair and a crisp, coal-grey pant suit

and white shirt at the door.

"Hello?" I greeted her cautiously from the other side of locked door.

"Mr. Jensen, I am your ride to the function tonight," she said. At least she didn't sound haughty.

"Israel,

open the door, stand to the side," Angel ordered as she stepped out of

the kitchen. I did as directed because I hadn't a clue what she was up

to and it was too late to argue.

"Hey there,” the woman got out.

"I'm Detective Angel Kristi of the Metropolitan PD," Angel brandished her badge in her left hand.

I noticed Angel's right hand was behind her back.

"Show me some identification please," Angel directed.

"That is hardly necessary in this situation," the women smiled calmly.

"Let me rephrase," Angel glared as she whipped out her pistol from behind her back and pointed at the strange woman's head.

"Show

me some God-damned I D right now or I'm going to paint the door across

the hall with your skull and grey matter," Angel menaced convincingly.

"Whoa now," the woman raised her hands. "You've,”

"Wrong answer, Asshole," Angel's trigger finger tightened.

"Wait,

I'm a cop!" the woman blurted out. When Angel didn't fire, she

continued. "I'm pulling out my badge with my left hand, okay?"

"Nice

and slow," Angel cautioned. "Hand it to Israel." The woman produced the

badge as promised. I read the identification out loud, it was bad news.

"Sergeant Eliza DeMosa, Metropolitan Police Force. Executive Protection Detail," I read.

"See, I'm a fellow cop," Sergeant DeMosa started breathing again. "You can put the gun away now."

"Hardly a fellow, you fucking pimp," Angel snapped. I handed the Sergeant her badge back.

"What is your problem?" DeMosa shot back.

"You are dragging a man against his will to a whore fest, like you didn't know," Angel sneered.

"What?" the woman looked to me.

"It

was this nightmare or a 72 hour psychiatric watch," I told her. "You

don't need to put me in restraints, but please don't pretend I have a

choice in this matter."

"Um, okay," Eliza replied. "We need to go now." I guess she had her orders.

"Sergeant, I want you to know that if Israel comes back fucked up, or doesn't come back at all, I'm looking you up," Angel promised. "No one else, just you."

"Detective, you need to have your hormone levels checked," DeMosa responded.

"Sergeant,

you are about to run off with a twenty-one year old male," Angel

snarled as she stepped forward and pressed the barrel of her pistol

against Eliza's forehead. "If he gets damaged or vanishes, no one you

are working for now will save you from the federal investigation that is

going to land like the space station on your head."

"They

are going to be more than happy to let me at you in an interrogation

room where I am going to shove a cattle prod so far up your ass your

teeth glow," Angel grew deathly calm. "If something happens to him, come

at me guns blazing, flee to Amazonia, or swallow your piece because you

will find no mercy from me. Clear?"

"As crystal, Detective," DeMosa answered. Angel stepped back and lowered her gun.

"Israel,

be careful and keep your hopes alive," Angel said. As I made to leave,

Kuiko ran up and hugged me, burying her head in my underarm.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she repeated. "Sorry to crowd you, but please take care."

"It

is okay," I sighed. "I have friends now." I didn't believe that would

help me. In my experience, you are always alone in the dark. It was what

Kuiko wanted to hear, so I said it as I petted her hair. I had to push

her away before I could make my way out the door. Eliza and I walked in

silence until her car pulled away from the front of my place.

"That

is quite a little fan club," she noted jokingly. She had a gun pressed

to her head a minute ago and I doubt she had sweated at all. "Phone,"

she directed me to hand mine over.

"Are you going to cause Detective Kristi problems?" I gave her my phone but deviated from the question.

"She

put a gun to my head," she snorted. "Yeah, what she did was insane."

With one hand, the latest cop in my life flipped my phone open and

popped out the battery & GPS. She dumped the chip in a box then

closed the lid.

"If you do, I'll claim you tried to kidnap me and she acted in my defense," I reasoned.

"What? No one cares what you say," Eliza shook her head. "The security system will have recorded it all."

"Nope,"

I chuckled dryly. "After all, then some important people would have to

tell a Grand Jury exactly what you were doing at my door this evening."

"I was taking you to a party," Sgt. DeMosa said.

"What

party? At what address? Why did you feel it necessary to take my phone

away from me and deactivate my GPS?" I countered. "Who was at this party

and who told you to come get me? After all, if this was official police

business, why wouldn't the appropriate authorities have alerted

Detective Kristi, my assigned watcher or guardian, that another police

officer was coming over?"

"Damn,"

she actually sounded impressed. "I guess she's off the hook then." It

was the never-ending saga of women assuming men were one step above

illiterate subhuman savages. "I like you, by the way."

"Like me? We don't know each other," I worried.

"At

the press conferences this week. Unlike everyone else, you sound like

you know something and aren't afraid to tell people the truth," she

related. "I did a stint in White Collar Crimes before moving over to EPD

(executive protective detail). Trust me, suits lie all the damn time

about everything, big or small."

"Why are you doing this, tonight?" I inquired.

"I want to make captain one day," she told me. "That means kissing some political ass."

"I'll

let you know how it tastes," I muttered. There was nothing else to say.

This was the benign indifference that pervaded this culture.

She

knew something bad 'might' happen to me but since she didn't have to

witness it, she'd let events take their course. She had her life to live

and I was a man. The comfortable assumption to make was that I was

doing what I need to do to get by as well. Eliza didn't seem to be a bad

person. She didn't have to be. All she had to do was not get involved

and she was doing that admirably.

Sergeant

DeMosa dropped me off in front of one of those high security towers I

would never, ever be able to afford to live in. It was designed to

withstand hurricanes (if one ever came this far inland), earthquakes and

the collapse of civilization. You would need an armored battalion to

break into this place, or an elite team of Special Forces.

Two

women detached themselves from the structure, it had a one-way mirrored

face, and rounded me up without actually touching me. No one said

anything. We had nothing to talk about. I sensed a greater deal of

menace than I received from normal cops so I made the guess that they

were ex-military.

As

I entered the channel into the structure, I was bombarded with every

ray and particle of the electromagnetic spectrum to confirm the most

insidious thing on me were the crowns on two of my teeth. I had

swallowed the pills in my mouth right before entering. See, if you took

too many anti-nausea pills at one time, it made you vomit.

I

was counting on that, but the clock was now ticking before this

overdose kicked in. I had to throw up in the narrow window between being

fed my aphrodisiacs and the time it took them to dissolve in my stomach

and get into my bloodstream. The only weapon I had was my wits and I

wasn't going to surrender that without a fight.

"Hold

up!" a male voice called out before the doors shut. One of my two

minders hit the 'door open' button and a well-tailored man with frosted

blonde hair slid in gracefully. I've been told I'm good looking by a

fair number of women, but this guy was freaking gorgeous. On second

glance, I realized he wasn't handsome, he was pretty, sculpted so.

"Hi, I'm Gil," he offered his manicured and pampered hand. I looked and gave a weary smile, but did not shake his hand.

"I'm Israel," I replied.

"I know," he smiled with his perfect teeth. "I've seen you on TV. You are weird."

"Thanks," I shrugged.

"It wasn't really a compliment, Israel," he smirked.

"I'll get over it," I shook my head. "You come to these often?"

"All the time," he gleamed knowingly. "I often get special requests."

"Nice," I said non-committedly. "Where do you work?"

"Parks and Recreations," he grinned.

"Live near here?" I persisted. Hell, the legitimate head of P & R couldn't live in this neighborhood.

"Yep; five blocks down. Drove my car here too," Gil bragged. He drove his car, five blocks.

"Nice ear rings," I pointed out. Diamond studs.

"Yes. They were a gift," he touched them fondly. I wondered how many facials that cost him.

"Nose stud?" I looked him over. He nodded.

"I see you have a piercing for a nose ring," I continued. "Going to put it in later?"

"Yes," he responded with far less enthusiasm.

"Prince Albert? Cock stud?" I inquired. "Does the cock ring go on later too?"

"What are you getting at?" Gil was becoming decidedly less friendly.

"You have more cock-jewelry

than a pole dancer, you have your face cut to look like a much younger

boy yet you're in, what, your late twenties or early thirties?" I

continued. "You wear the crumbs off their tables like freaking prize

possessions and you dare call yourself a man. I'm sure Washington, Hathcock, Gordon and Shugart would be proud."

I

was pretty sure Gil barely had a clue who the first man was. He was at a

total loss as to who the other three were. They hadn't even been famous

in their time. Those three did share two things though; they were all

very dead and all had adopted peculiar vocation for dealing with their

enemies.

"It is your first time," Gil countered vindictively. "You'll learn."

"No,

I won't. Ask anyone who knows me knows, I refuse to learn anything," I

snarled. "I do know this; in a few weeks, maybe a year or two, you are

going to tumble down. Women farther down the hierarchy who settle for

cast-offs and hand-me-downs will take you in for a short while."

"Then

you will tumble again, farther and farther down until you find a middle

class women who doesn't mind that you are a washed up whore. Because,

you will always be a whore," I glared at him. Gil pushed me and I

stumbled back. My minders did nothing. Gill assumed something that might

have been a fighting stance.

"I've

been trained to defend myself, Jerk," he smirked. He had instruction

alright, but I doubted it was really effective. His female trainer would

be far more interested in pumping up his testosterone levels than any

actual training.

"You are a dancer, not a fighter, Numb-nuts," I snapped back.

I

whipped out my belt, folded it in two and got ready to wail into the

bastard, but when I hauled back for the first swing, one of my female

minders reached out and grabbed my forearm.

"Oh, now you show some initiative," I bitterly remarked.

"Not the face," she instructed. I nodded then kicked Gil in the nuts.

Whomever

had taught Gil how to fight had failed to drill in any combative

reflexes. I was on the mark. Gil's eyes bugged out, he whimpered then

toppled over like a rotten tree in the forest. I was slammed into the

elevator wall by my first minder.

"You said nothing about the balls!" I screamed, trying to stave off the beating I felt coming my way.

"Kick his ass," Gil rasped through the pain from the carpeted floor of the lift.

"We don't work for you," my second minder mocked Gil as she yanked him back to a standing position.

"If I let you go, are you going to stop acting stupid?" minder one asked.

There

were no words I would dare let out of my mouth considering the multiple

poor choices I'd been making so I nodded instead. She let me up. She

pointed to the belt I'd dropped when she slammed me. I knelt down,

picked it up and offered it to her. She shook her head so I stood and

put it back on.

Gil

looked at me with hate-filled eyes. There was something else there too.

He'd convinced himself that selling his body made him part of the

powerful women's little club. He had just learned he was little more

than a hood ornament on last year's model. He wasn't even a person in

their servant's eyes. My return stare told Gil I was laughing at him on

the inside.

My

options were either derision or pity, and I was all out of pity for

parasites like Gil. He was the stereotype that women accessed whenever

they wanted to reduce male humanity to trophies in their minds. Men

would give up our sexual beings for trinkets. Once the sperm left our

bodies, we ceased caring what happened. We were all off to the next

bauble.

To

that way of thinking, male whores were the 'honest' ones. The rest of

the male population simply hid it better, or refused to admit what we

were really all about. Men like Gil made it that much harder for the

majority of males who were nothing like him. Worse, Gil's lifestyle

rarely worked out well in the end. He wasn't even helping himself.

Gil

wobbled out of the elevator first. My minders had to push me, I was so

scared. I would have administered cunnilingus on both of them if I

thought that would let me take the elevator back down. A woman in a

tuxedo waiting close by. She let Gil pass but approached me.

"Mr. Jensen," she smiled pleasantly. "Please come this way and welcome to the party."

"I'm

Tia and I'll help you through all the things you need to know before

the party starts," she rambled on. "The patrons will know you are a

little nervous, and a little tired," she winked, "so try to relax and

enjoy yourself." Wondering what drugs she might be on took a back seat

to the wink and the 'little tired' remark.

The

four of us went around one of the turns in the corridor then through a

door into a dressing room. Several guys were in various stages of

undress and by the suspicious looks I received, Gil had already

blathered about me. She handed me a wrapped tuxedo.

"Here,"

she kept with that warm, friendly smile, "put this on. I don't need to

ask you if you've showered, but do you have any cologne or perfume?"

"No," I muttered. This was getting bad. "Where do I change?"

"Just do it here," she instructed.

"Can't

I have some privacy?" I all but begged. With friends around me, I'd

still barricaded myself in my bedroom to change a few hours ago.

"It's not like it is anything we haven't seen before," she giggled.

"I

don't know you and I doubt you've seen me naked before so could I

please have a secluded spot?" I repeated. Tia laughed at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stifled that laugh with her hand. "No private rooms though. I apologize."

"No

cologne or perfume," I repeated. I put the suit bag on a hook, zipped

it open and began sorting through the costume I was supposed to wear. It

was a nice tuxedo, most likely silk or some sort of silk blend. Their

choice of underwear was, economic on materials used, I was beginning to

hyperventilate and the room was starting to spin.

"Problems?"

Tai asked nicely. I shook my head. She pulled out a small pill box from

inside her vest and popped out a pill. "Take this, it will help," she

proffered up something to me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It helps with anxiety," she informed me.

"No thank you," I mumbled.

"It really will help," Tai insisted in her pleasant tone. "It won't affect your ability to perform; don't worry about that."

"Please," I begged.

"Listen

Israel," Tai became harsher, "you can take this or they can make you

take it. I don't want that and neither do you." She was smiling again.

No choices.

"You

haven't identified yourself as an EMT or physician," I stared at her.

"So, I decline your attempt to peddle your crap on me. Beat me up if

that makes you feel better. You are nothing but animals anyway and we

should all stop pretending you are not."

Tai shrugged.

"Hold

him," she told my minders. My resistance was feeble and I obediently

opened my mouth when they twisted my head in position. A cop would have

known better but neither the two women restraining me, or Tai, were

cops.

When Tai presented the pill, I extended my tongue. She was still giving me that pleasant, kind smile as I took the pill in.

"Let

me see inside your mouth," Tai commanded. I showed her, she looked

around to see that I had indeed swallowed the poison. The clock was

ticking.

"Your continued resistance makes no sense, Israel," Tai scolded me patiently. Something inside me cracked.

"When

you are reduced to a skin-bag of meat impaled on a metal rod for days,

you'll understand what it is to not give in to putrid wastes of humanity

like yourself, Tai," I grinned angrily.

"Until

then, you don't get to question what makes me keep fighting. You are

simply too ignorant to understand and I don't have the time to torture

you enough so that you get it," I added.

"They are going to love your passion," she snickered. She motioned the guards to let me go.

The

rest of the dressing process was quick and quiet. I could feel my

stomach twisting and lurching, seeking release. Most of the men had

evacuated the room by the time I was done. My first stop upon leaving

was meeting Isobel.

"You've already been a pain in the ass and you've barely been here ten minutes," she regarded me thoughtfully.

I had no reply. I need to speed things along.

"You

look nice," Isobel looked me over. "It is nice to see your eyes so

alert after your marathon sex session with Detective Kristi. After

seeing that many of the ladies have expressed an interest in you." I

couldn't keep the humiliation and sense of violation from my face.

"You had no right," I whispered.

"Israel,

I promised to destroy you and I am, one piece at a time," Isobel glowed

vindictively. "Consider this your first installment." They had hacked

my security system illegally and showed it around Isobel's clientele to

up my value at the upcoming flesh auction.

How

could I have possibly believed that my private, sensual moments with

Angel would remain so? Isobel knew about the sorority sex tape and this

was a clear imitation of that degrading experience. I refused to become

submerged to this latest assault against my identity.

"Here you go, Israel," Isobel offered me a pill and a glass of champagne.

I took the pill and a long pull on the glass.

"Will this make me forget?" I whispered vacantly.

"Oh no," Isobel. "This lets you remember everything. This wouldn't be any fun if it didn't."

"At

the end of this, I really think I'm going to be dead, Isobel," I

muttered, "but you will still be the monstrous, twisted evil sow you are

right now."

Isobel's left hand lashed out, her hand gripping my throat and started to strangle me.

"I

like it when they fight back," she snarled in a darkly passionate

outburst. She must have held me there for thirty seconds before Tai

cleared her throat. Isobel let me go. "Get him out of here."

As Tai, my two minders and I approached the last door to the 'reception' room, one of my minders held me back.

"Where did you hear about those names?" she asked. I had to assume she was referring to my little talk with Gil in the elevator.

"Civics

3 0 4, my junior year at Bowden: Studies in Character," I responded.

"The study of the last two led me to history of other Congressional

Medal of Honor winners as well as men of that profession. It isn't like I

could ever be in the armed services, but it is still my history."

"Did you ever learn any other names?" she asked. Her partner and Tai looked irritated.

"Do you mean like Walker?" I questioned. She nodded. "Where did you learn the names?"

"It

was in the graduation hall where I went to school," she regarded me. At

least not all male history was being swept away, I thought. It also

told me the woman was trained as a Special Forces sniper.

Tai

took me through the final door and introduced me to the room. At first

glance, there appeared to be twenty men and twelve women as

'participants' and around fifty party guests. This way the guests had to

'compete' for the party favors. Not that we would appreciate that

largesse, Isobel would.

"Ladies,

this is Israel Jensen," Tai announced. "Don't be too rough on him. It

is his first time, though not his first time today." She turned to me

and quietly added, "Israel, I hope you have a good time tonight."

"Tai," I whispered back, "I hope your car battery explodes and burns you to death."

She

giggled, patted my ass and began to circulate the room. Me? I spotted

what I needed and made a bee-line for it. I was almost at the balcony

when a woman came out of one of the many padded chairs in the room and

grabbed my arm.

"Hello there, I'm Magdalena but everyone calls me Maggy," she smiled.

She

was somewhat short, heavy but curvaceous, voluptuous, I supposed. She

was maybe in her mid-thirties with short, wavy black hair, expensive

jewelry and wearing a backless, silver gown with deep cleavage and

breasts that clearly needed support.

"Nice to meet you," I mumbled. "I gotta go." If I didn't I was going to spew all over her.

I

broke free and ran for what I was praying was a balcony. I stepped into

the city's cool night air, found what I was looking for, a planter, and

vomited into it. Whatever male had spread this recipe for avoiding

being drugged failed to mention the sheer pain of having your stomach

attempting to exit your esophagus. I was back in my dorm room in the

aftermath of Bethany's sorority function all over again.

I was still bent over with both hands resting on the sides of the planter when a voice spoke up from right behind me.

"If

you are finished, you can have my drink," she offered. I nearly vaulted

the planter. Only the height of the shrub kept me from trying.

I

spun around to face a woman of indeterminate age with blonde hair and

blue eyes. She had an odd, lopsided quirk to her lips, a daring,

floor-length red dress and a gold and diamond choker. Her features were

hauntingly familiar but I was too scared and physically discombobulated

to figure out how. She was extending a long stem glass of something my

way.

I

gingerly took it and walked over to the railing. It was as high as my

ribcage so jumping over wasn't going to be easy. I wasn't so

disillusioned with my life or my chances here to embrace the seventy

story fall anyway. After taking a deep swig of the alcohol, I swirled it

around my mouth, spit it back into the glass and throw the whole deal

off into the night.

"Wine not up to your standards?" the lady in red mused.

"It

is probably pointless, but thank you. I'm Israel Jensen," I responded.

"I don't take anything I'm going to put into my body from a woman I

don't know. Your kind has the annoying habit of dropping the dope of

your convenience into things coming my way."

"Delilah," she tipped her head in greeting. "Delilah Fremont."

"Any relation to Bethany Fremont?" I requested.

"She's one of my daughters," she replied. "I understand you two aren't getting along right now."

"Kind

of in the way that Boadicea didn't get along with the Romans," I

stated. Considering that the Celtic British Queen had started her

rebellion after being raped, this was somewhat apt.

"Ah,

rumor has it you were irreverent," Delilah mulled over. "Have I done

anything to earn your ire?" That was a bit of an odd thing to say and

definitely far cleverer than anything Bethany would have come up with.

"Beyond living long enough to breed, nothing I can think of," I shrugged.

"Oh,

very well, I can understand that impulsive reaction," Delilah allowed.

"Don't you believe that men should still try to replenish the Human

Race, despite personal tragedy?"

"No." That word pretty much summoned everything else I might have said.

"That is an awfully bleak epitaph for our species," Delilah didn't sound angry or offended.

"Quite

frankly, I haven't seen a damn thing this entire week that would make

me lift a finger to save any of you," I started back at her. "The few

women I have found worthwhile can't be saved by me and won't be saved by

you. My only regret is that the worst of you won't die in the

bone-wracking agony you so richly deserve."

"This

doesn't qualify as participating in the party, Israel," Isobel murmured

threateningly. She'd snuck up on me as well. "Monday is starting to

look very complicated." She had Tia and my two minders with her.

"Wait," I gulped. "She's a guest, Delilah, I mean."

"Mr. Jensen and I were discussion funerary rights as well as future mortality projections," Delilah intervened urbanely.

"Dr.

Fremont, I wasn't referring to Israel's dubious ability at conversation

but at the fact that he seems to have purged his medication," Isobel

clarified. The ever-present surveillance system had boned me again.

"I

concur with that," Fremont nodded. "He's not sweating, his pupils

aren't dilated and his breathing is steady. It was probably some sort of

IG medication, probably an anti-nausea drug."

Isobel glared over her shoulder at my minders.

"We didn't see him take anything," minder one stated.

"Isobel,

those kind of drugs take ten to fifteen minutes to work. He may have

done it before he entered the building," Delilah suggested.

"Israel, all your little ploy earned you was a stomach cramp. Tai, dose him," Isobel commanded. What the fuck was I going to do? I edged down the railing but there was no visible egress from this place.

"Why?" the woman who I had shrugged off earlier asked. I was too fearful to try and figure out where she'd come from.

"Standard

policy," Isobel answered icily. "He needs the 'pick me up' and his mood

is a bit unstable." Isobel was explaining herself?

"Previously

submitted evidence suggest Israel has no problem performing," Maggy

grinned. "Standing up to you is hardly a reason to dope him. Besides, a

spirited man really screws you up inside, or it used to Isobel."

That

was far more than I ever wanted to know. Usually you fight back to

scare off your attacker. What the hell was a man supposed to do when it

excited the aggressor instead?

"That's enough," Isobel seethed after she turned on Maggy. "We need to talk."

"Until you come back, I'll keep an eye on Mr. Jensen," Delilah spoke up.

"There is no need to drug him," Delilah stated.

"I concur," Maggy added.

"Fine," Isobel conceded poorly. In a few seconds I was left alone with Delilah again.

"Some men would make a gesture of gratitude," Delilah studied me, "or be curious about what happened."

"I

wouldn't be here if you didn't feel entitled to hold functions like

this, so thanking you would be disingenuous," I answered. "As for the

rest. I don't want to know any of you. I don't want to know anything

about you. That you are stewards of our dying culture is wish

fulfillment, or karmic justice."

"Do

you really think that, or are you lashing out because of your own

personal injustices?" Delilah argued. "My parents were both medical

researchers when the plague hit. My father died in year four, working

right up until the end. The day after he died, my mother went back to

work. I've followed in their footsteps, looking for a cure."

"How is that working out for you?" I remarked.

"Ever

heard of a drug called Carabolix 37?" she countered. Something tickled

at the back of my brain but I couldn't figure out the what, why, or

where of that memory.

"No," I lied.

"It

was the last anti-viral to be cleared for live trials," she informed

me. Live trials meant men being experimented on. "It was tested twenty

years ago. I worked on it. Of the eighteen men in the trial, nine died

from massive organ failure, eight developed a highly aggressive form of

testicular cancer and had to be castrated to save their lives."

"The

last subject died of massive testosterone toxicity. We couldn't

suppress his testosterone production fast enough to save his life," she

related.

"Okay, beyond being a very depressing story, why are you telling me this?" I worried.

"Forty doses of Carabolix 37 were saved for what we would hope would be future research," she started.

"Twenty

doses were stored at our research facility close by," she gave a sliver

of a smile. "The other twenty were left at the research hospital where

the trial was performed, St. Jerome's." That made no damn sense. When I

was rescued by the police from the Aurora Slasher, they took me to St.

Jerome's, because it was the closest hospital.

Still, I couldn't imagine the doctors and staff using it on me. That made less than no sense.

"Very

recently we went looking for both stockpiles. The one at our facility

is safe but the one at St. Jerome's is missing," she was prodding me

along. I didn't know where.

"What do you think happened to it?" I muttered.

"I think someone who mistook it for a fertility drug stole it," she regarded me slyly.

"How many doses did each test subject take?" I whispered.

"One," she was starting to smile.

"Why am I still alive?" I mouthed. The breath to power the words wouldn't come.

"Now

that would be the intriguing question, wouldn't it?" Delilah looked at

me in a startling motherly way. I fell down. My knees turned to water

and I folded like an accordion. I was in that basement, she was talking

to me as she bathed my body. She wanted me clean. She took a vial out of

the small refrigerator down there, filled the syringe and came at me.

We

were going to make a baby, she promised. We were going to make many

baby boys. She shot me up, it hurt like hell, like my whole crotch had

been set on fire. It hurt for days. I begged her to stop but she kept

injecting me. The pain got worse and worse and worse until one day it

simply vanished.

When

the law came for the Aurora Slasher, they didn't even know I was alive.

Only after the stampede was over did one officer get assigned to search

the basement for evidence. When she saw me, she first thought I was a

corpse. Only when she flashed her light in my eyes did I blink and turn

away. There was a lot of yelling after that.

My

first question to the EMT's was if 'she' was still alive, she was. I

then asked about our baby. I wanted to know if our baby was okay. They

had no response for that, so I feared the worse, she'd miscarried during

the fight. It wasn't until the Federal investigators talked to me the

next day did I learn that the Aurora Slasher could never get pregnant.

There was no baby. There would never have been a baby and all I'd been

through had been utterly without purpose.

It had taken eighteen months to submerge all of those painful memories yet here they were, back again.

"Israel,"

Delilah called out to me quietly. "Israel?" Using every tool at my

disposal, I jury-rigged my psyche back together and forced my way to my

feet.

"So you do remember," she mused triumphantly.

"If

making me remember any of that was supposed to inspire me to give a

crap about any of you, you were sorely mistaken," I growled. “No, you

are a top medical doctor who experiments on men, as though they were

mice, and expects the patient to adore you afterward.” I chided

sarcastically; “Hippocrates would be so proud of you.”

"If you want to see your children, I can help with that," Delilah offered. "In turn, you could help me help all of us."

I wanted to scream at her. I wanted her to realize how fucking sleazy and evil she was for using my offspring as a lure to carve off another piece of soul by helping any of them.

"I need to think about it," I mumbled.

"Very well," she agreed compassionately.

She

wasn't even putting any time pressures on me. It didn't make her one of

the good ones. It made her one smart predator. Bethany had inherited

some of that subtlety but was too over-privileged to appreciate it.

"What do you do?" I asked. Doctors and researchers were well paid but not paid enough to end up here, or so I believed.

"I'm

majority stockholder in Augsburg Pharmaceuticals," she informed me.

God, I'd been dosed with a variety of her concoctions multiple times in

my life. AP was also famous for the creation of 'aggression suppression'

drugs, things they used on male prisoners to keep them in check so they

could be used for breeding. That shit was so nasty you had to have your

civil rights voided by the courts first.

I was struggling to keep my breathing under control. I'd given up on my heart rate.

"If you have an anti-viral that works, why aren't you doing something?" I blathered.

"I

don't know why it works, for one," she explained calmly, "and if this

was to become public knowledge before we had manufactured an appropriate

supply, the governments of the world would void my patents and create

their own batches."

I

couldn't tell her, but that was the best impetus I'd ever heard for me

committing suicide and I'd literally been through hell. Killing myself

was a pointless surrender. Stopping Dr. Delilah Fremont from leveraging

my horrific fortune into an economic windfall was worth it, almost. I

simply didn't know if a seventy story fall would render my testicles

beyond recovery.

"Have

you ever wondered that it was someone just like you, trying to play

God, who started the Gender Plague in the first place?" I inquired

somewhat hopelessly.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Dr. Fremont responded instantly. "It really is a masterpiece of genetic engineering," she grinned happily.

"It

is specific in its targeting, it mutates randomly and it grows in

potency with each hundred or so permutations," she added. She admired

the damn thing. I was sorting through that when the words impacted me.

"It's getting tougher?" I gasped.

"Yes.

It is damaging male spermatozoa, increasing the likelihood of female

births. Successful male inseminations suffer from a higher rates of

fetal mutations and miscarriages," she informed me.

"Why tell me this?" I wondered. "I'm hardly a fan."

"You

are a compassionate survivalist, Israel," she profiled me. "You are

angry now, but you seem to get over it and let your compassionate nature

shine through. How many boys will die in their first year if you do

nothing? You may hate me and Bethany, but you don't hate your daughters.

You don't want them to grow up never knowing the loving touch of a male

lover."

To be continued

By FinalStand for Literotica

A date with a devil, unloading on the press, and facing down interrogators?

Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. 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 Ms. 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," she mocked. "Can't you guys simply shut up and do your damn duty?"

"When

the alternative to masturbation is having sex with you, I'll choose

masturbation," I observed. "You are a lousy human being and most likely a

worse mother."

"I have two daughters, idiot," she grumbled.

"I guess they will either be criminals or cops," I mused. "What am I saying? Cops are criminals. You are living proof of that."

"You are throwing your life away," she taunted. "It is going to be nice to watch you go 'splat' when you hit bottom."

"For the first time in my life, I'm okay with that," I replied.

"Isobel is really going to have to give me a crack at you when she is finished," Somerset threatened.

"I'll either be dead or my mind will be gone," I admitted sadly, "so it won't matter to me."

"Maybe if you beg, she'll leave a few pieces of you alive," Somerset teased evilly.

"In

that case, I had better get lucky and be one of those guys that

vanish," I laughed. What else was I going to do? Only later did I

realize that Somerset didn't find that funny one bit.

Inside

City Hall, Somerset 'suggested' security do a full body cavity search

because I was now associated with an earlier male suicide. They were

happy to oblige the G E D officer and they even let her watch. They

threw in a few sexual proposals with their indignities and physical

violations.

"No

witty banter or snappy repartee?" Somerset teased me. A security goon

was probing, and probing my ass with her latex-gloved finger.

"I

once had a nine-inch vibrator shoved up my ass for three or four days,"

I replied through gritted teeth. "This hardly rises to the level of

creative sexual harassment."

I

knew a fisting was in my future when the intercom came on. Apparently

someone had come looking for me and the guards needed to produce my body

ASAP. Somerset told them to keep at it and she'd see what the problem

was. They must have thought I had an ICBM up my bum. I wasn't sure what

an ICBM was but it had to be huge.

Right

as the woman was about to shove all five fingers past my already abused

anus, she told me that I could avoid all this hassle if I simply agreed

to have sex with the guards a few times a week. They had a break room

and everything.

"What about Troy?" I suggested.

"The

ten-second popgun? No thanks," the guard muttered. My rectum prepared

for violation. I couldn't help it, I shuddered. When my sphincter gave

way, so did my bladder. I started to cry, my elbows gave out and I fell

face first on the table they had me leaning against. Courage only took

me so far. Eventually it was eroded by pain, the memory of pain and the

shame of it all.

If

there was any victory for me, it was that I didn't give them the scream

they wanted. Further desecration was avoided by Detective Trainer

returning.

"His boss says she needs him for news event," she sighed unhappily. "Get him on his feet." They dressed me rather sloppily.

They

wanted people to know what I'd been through as an expression of their

power. Ms. Silverhorn looked downright furious at the whole situation.

"If he can't work today, I'm calling your boss," Francesca snapped at Somerset.

"Knock

yourself out, Bitch," Somerset laughed. "Israel was in close proximity

to a probable suicide so we were required to check him out as well."

"Besides,

with the MRA incident in Denver, I doubt anyone will care about your

office pet getting adjusted," Trainer added. Francesca was apoplectic.

Feebly, I reached out and touched her arm.

"You are worth more than ten of her," I rasped to my boss. That seemed to reach her.

"I'll see you at one," Somerset regarded me.

"Yes,

you will, but in room 417 here, not at the Plaza, you Cunt," Francesca

battled back. "I have friends too and they say we need Israel here in

the job, not wasting his time cooling his heels in one of your

interrogation rooms."

"It

won't matter," Somerset grinned. "Your boy is falling apart. It is only

a matter of time before he's under constant supervision. Then he's

ours." Francesca bristled.

"Don't

make her angry," I mumbled. Somerset smirked. "After all, if she leaves

here angry, she might not use any lube when she uses her strap-on to

sodomize some cute, perky college girl, who happens to be connected.

What a pity that would be."

Somerset's smirk died but Francesca's frown turned into a vindictive smile.

"You've

already promised to destroy me, Detective. I believe you so that leaves

me free to do what I want until then," I gave a rather pathetic grin.

"You are more vulnerable than you know," Somerset hinted.

"Let's

get out of here," Ms. Silverhorn said as she steered me toward the

elevators. "Can you get your head on straight? Something has come up and

I need you on the job."

"What

happened?" I tried to concentrate. The accumulation of abuse over the

years, both active and passive, had trained my mind to submerge my pain

so that I could focus on the moment.

"There

was a daycare school attack in Denver less than an hour ago," she

informed me. "Details are sketchy, but from eyewitness reports, three

masked MRA terrorists broke in, rounded up sixteen preschool boys, took

them to the kitchen and blew themselves up."

I had to process that.

"You would have thought they would want to steal the boys and hastily exit," I noted.

"They

left their van running in front of the daycare," she filled me in. "No

driver." I kept thinking things over well after we returned to the

office. The Mayor was having her press secretary make a brief statement.

We had to prepare.

The

ladies gathered for a spit-balling session, tossing ideas and catch

phrases back and forth. It wasn't that they were callus over the death

of so many children, it was our job to put words to happenings. It took

Francesca to invite me over.

"You look like hell," Bethany whispered to me as I reluctantly wedged myself in.

"I

witnessed one of the few guys left in my district commit suicide today

and to show me how much the police force cared, they had Stella the

security guard gleefully fist me," I shrugged.

"What?" Wanda gasped. "How? Why?"

"You place your fingers into a sort of wedge then push forward with all your mass behind it," I showed her.

"Your

anus gives way and then they have their entire hand and wrist inside

your rectum," I added. Wanda looked like she was about to lose her

breakfast the hard way.

"God, doesn't that hurt?" Tabitha blurted out. She was our research wiz.

"Let's stay on subject," Francesca insisted.

"I

am," I stated. "Those guys weren't MRA. I doubt there is an MRA

anymore. The last confirmed arrests were in Atlanta eleven years ago and

most of those guys were old timers. You are looking at this all wrong."

"They claimed to be MRA," Selma pointed out.

"Brand

recognition. Had they told the truth, 'we are three mental cases with

knives', the tactical unit would have stormed the place," I explained.

"Not that it mattered too much. The second those bastards got those male

children isolated, they killed them."

"But why?" Bethany muttered.

"Those

guys hated you and your society, Bethany. They didn't see themselves as

killing those boys. They were freeing them from you and what you would

do to them," I told her.

"That's insane," Wanda gasped.

"Fuck

ya, it's insane," I agreed. "They murdered sixteen kids then killed

themselves. Add their deaths and that's nineteen men removed from the

reproductive pool."

"That's

pretty much the definition of madness. What won't be recognized is that

this is an act of hopeless desperation and is likely to be repeated

when men start figuring that things are only going to get worse for

them," I prophesized. None of them wanted to ask why I felt that way.

Either I was of the same, insane mindset, or I had an inexplicable

insight to what was going to happen.

"What makes you say that?" Francesca asked when she realized no one else would.

I reached out quickly and squeezed her breasts. Francesca screeched and recoiled.

Francesca didn't say anything, but Selma did.

"What is your problem?" Selma shoved me away from Francesca.

"I

go through that fifty times a day," I responded. "Every day I come to

work, or go to the store. Anywhere I have to stand still or in line.

Every day. Every day and I can't complain because no one cares. I have

to put up with it. Like most guys I like to think I can ignore it, but

it eats at us. Selma, how would you feel if every day I stopped by your

desk, leaned over you and looked down your chest?"

"You would have to unbutton two more buttons though. I'd want to see your bra," I met her glare.

"You are messed up," Selma spat back.

"I don't wear these pants because I want to, Selma," I pointed out.

"Ms.

Diaz made it contingent on me if I wanted to keep this job. Now all of

you need to think about is how much of that you could take before you

decided how much was too much," I questioned. I let that sink in.

"That's the angle we need to look at for our press release."

"You want us to say it women's fault because they pat men too much?" Bethany looked offended.

"No,"

you idiot, I thought, "we, you say this is a Doomsday Cult, not the

MRA, they are spurred on by the belief that this society is teetering on

the edge and this will happen again. You may want to ask the male

population to keep an eye out for any of their fellows who seem overly

edgy or strained. Asking women to help is pointless as they have never

cared to learn the difference between a man at his breaking point and a

guy having a bad day."

I

was hardly surprised they didn't use any of my suggestions. No one

wanted to admit that this was a calamity of their own creation; in the

blame game, you didn't blame yourself. I didn't care. I had to ready my

mind for the interview or interrogation with Detectives Trainer and

Seger. Today the press conference was given by the Mayor's press

secretary. This wasn't a local problem after all.

Monday

morning seemed so long ago. I had told Ms. Silverhorn that all I wanted

to do was do my job, collect my paycheck and go home. The first

question to the press secretary before she even got started?

"Where is Mr. Jensen?" Eloise Granger from the Sentinel inquired.

"Um,

Mr. Jensen is an employee of the Public Relations Department, not a

public speaker," she replied politely. We PR people were sitting at our

desks, but we always watched the conferences on our screens.

"Oh God, no," I muttered.

"So

basically you are going to regurgitate this garbage dressed up like a

press release," Eloise continued. "I'm outta here. Ladies, I'm off to

the Chantry (a local bar). First round is on me." There wasn't a

stampede for the door but maybe a third of the room was rising. Eloise

wasn't done yet. "Maribel, are you coming? This won't even qualify as

stock footage."

The

Sentinel was the largest news publication in the city, but GNN was one

of the most watched news sources on the planet. Maribel looked at the

press secretary as that woman's face slowly drained of blood then

shrugged and joined Eloise in her exodus. It was a colossal disaster for

all concerned. The call came to Francesca a second later. Ms. Diaz had

clearly been watching too.

I

didn't have to be clairvoyant to realize that Isobel was pissed and

taking it out on Francesca. It took Bethany hissing at me to get my

attention because I was trying to be as unnoticeable as possible.

"Get in there," Bethany whispered. "Francesca is waving for you."

A

dumber man would have slinked into Ms. Silverhorn's office. A smarter

man would have been hiding in the bathroom five seconds after

Francesca's phone rang. I was neither. I quick-stepped it to Francesca's

desk and waited.

"I'm putting you on speaker," Francesca grumbled. "He's here." I had no illusions about who 'he' was.

"What the hell have you done?" Diaz snapped at me. Francesca turned her monitor so the Mayor's Chief of Staff could see us both.

"What do you mean?" I shrugged.

"The rebellion at the damn press conference, you prick," Isobel sizzled.

"I

repeat, 'what do you mean'," I glared back. "In case you missed the

update, your buddy Somerset has been sitting on me since six-thirty this

morning. I was at the metro, a guy killed himself, she and her partner,

Ms. Giggles, pulled me out of the crowd and questioned me about the

incident. Then Somerset was kind enough to drive me to work and chat me

up."

"Then

she polished my early morning by having building security strip and

body cavity search me. I'm sure Ms. Silverhorn heard me crying in pain

and Stella's fist popping out of my ass when she came for me," I

related. "If it is any consolation, it hurt like hell. It also means I

had zero time to launch any conspiracy against you or the Mayor because

I've been in fucking custody all morning long."

"I

didn't know about the school shooting before Ms. Silverhorn told me,

thus I could not have known about any press conference this morning.

Best of all, when I made suggestions about the press release, all my

advice was ignored. Nor did I go to the bathroom or anywhere else

outside of the view of my office mates.

"See,

I pissed on myself when I was fisted and I'm not going to take a shit

until my sphincter un-dilates, which from my experience with women

violating my ass, will not be for another few hours," I finished.

"Whomever made those women walk out wasn't me."

"That was uncalled for," Isobel growled. Francesca was emotionally trapped between being amused and horrified at my outburst.

"If you don't want detailed answers, only ask me 'yes' or 'no' questions," I shot back.

"Francesca, discipline this asshole," Isobel demanded.

"I

actually think his asshole has had enough attention for today,"

Francesca successfully fought down a smarmy smile. "Is there any other

part of his anatomy you think needs taken care of?"

"Do

you find that response amusing?" Isobel asked Francesca. "Is his cock

truly so good it makes you want to throw your career away?"

"If you had an ounce of human compassion, you'd know why," Francesca replied.

"I

don't see the need to brow beat Israel into granting me sexual favors.

If we do decide to have sex, I'll let you know how good willing

intercourse with him is like," Ms. Silverhorn stated. "Providing you

ever have had willing intercourse with anyone that is." I had no idea

why Francesca was doing this. It was beyond all expectations.

Sure,

I knew women who had expressed all kinds of sympathy for me. Sympathy

never translated into action. Before this, the only women to stand up

for me were my Mother and Angel, and Angel was assigned to look out for

me. Francesca was a total mystery.

"You need a drug test," Isobel threatened.

"But

that's not why I called. The Mayor wants you to rectify this disaster.

We are going to have a press conference reboot at 12:30. Create some

sort of spin, give us a God damned head's up on what that is and get

Israel ready. He had better not cause us a single problem either,"

Isobel ordered.

"Considering the day Israel has experienced, I can't endorse that," Francesca said.

"I

don't give a crap how bad a day he's had, Israel had better keep his

shit together and get the job done or it will be your head on the block,

Francesca, clear?" Isobel snarled.

"He's my employee," Francesca snapped back. "After what he's been put through today, I should,”

"I've got this," I interrupted Francesca. "I'll do it for you."

"This

isn't your call, Israel, but thank you. The professionalism of my

department is my concern and you look like crap," Francesca assured me.

"That was not a fucking suggestion!" Ms. Diaz yelled then cut the connection.

"Israel?" Francesca looked me over.

"Doomsday

Cult, society on the edge, have men watch out for men because women

won't know what to look for," I read off my press points.

"I

shouldn't, you aren't, you do realize we are supposed to make people

feel better and make the Mayor look good, remember?" Francesca worked

things out.

"The

theory is by making bold statements, you develop a commanding

presence," I stated from one of my sociology courses. "Leaders gather

followers."

"We need to have something that is supportable, or at least something we can later claim to be misinterpreted," she clarified.

"That's your job," I smiled sadly.

"This is going to make it harder on men nationwide," Ms. Silverhorn noted.

"I

know," I shrugged, "but sixteen young boys are dead. No matter how much

I sympathize with those three men, what they did was wrong."

"I

had a son," she studied me intently. "He didn't make it. Had he grown

up, I would like to think he would have stood proudly and been strong.

Not like you, you are all kinds of fucked up, but like that man who stood up to Isobel yesterday."

"Thank you," I smirked then winced. I was still in pain. "I guess that was almost a compliment."

"Get

to work," she directed. After that, our office raced to put something

together that had a remote acquaintance with reality. Bethany wished me

luck as I left. Wanda, Selma and Francesca escorted me to the first

floor bathroom where I prepped myself yet again. From somewhere, the

office had miraculously produced a fresh set of clothes for me.

I

had to assume they broke into my house to get them. My time with

security had ruined the set I had. They'd pulled my pants down around my

ankles but when I pissed myself, they'd been splashed and those stains

would raise questions at the press conference too many people didn't

want answered.

"Are you going to follow any part of our script?" Selma touched my arm to get my attention.

"I honestly don't know," I responded. "It depends on what they ask me."

"Why is he still working here?" Selma addressed Francesca.

"I

don't know about you," Francesca mused. "This has been the most

interesting 72 hours on the job that I've had in over a decade. Sure,

Israel is self-destructing, but I still want to see how it ends."

We were all silent as I was handed off to the press secretary, Naomi List.

"Don't embarrass us," she whispered heatedly. By us, I guess she meant the Mayor.

"Too

late for that," I responded quietly. She looked to me to see if I was

joking with her. A fierce look crossed her dark eyes when she realized I

was dead-serious. A cold streak of fear passed through me.

We didn't even get the first word out.

"Welcome back, Mr. Jensen," Eloise Granger greeted me. I had given my reply to this some serious thought.

"I'm

going to get you for this, Eloise, if it is the last thing I do," I

stated deadpan. "If you make it to Monday, you will probably be in the

clear."

"Planning to have a tough weekend?" Eloise bantered. Naomi was about to bust a gut.

"You have no idea," I sighed.

"You would be surprised what I know," the reporter for the Sentinel grinned.

"Ah, shit," I groaned. I was told that went out live to twenty millions screens.

"How

about we let Naomi here do her job?" I recovered. No one objected so

Naomi stepped up and did her spiel, which boiled down to our city sent

its condolences to Denver, yay.

"Are we in any danger here?" a reporter from a conservative blog asked.

"No," Naomi assured the audience. "We are on the alert for any MRA activity."

"What do you think?" Maribel beat Eloise to the punch, asking me for my opinion. I groaned.

"I

don't believe this was an MRA action. That was a ruse and nothing more.

As far as I know, there is no MRA anymore. There hasn't been an

established action by the terrorists of the MRA in eleven years," I

pointed out. I waited a few seconds for security to come and whisk me

off the stage.

"I

believe these three deranged individuals used the guise of the, ," I

continued when security failed to gag me. "Those three men used the

guise of the MRA to buy time with the Denver tactical unit. They used

the time to ensure those poor young boys were unrecoverable. Those boys

were dead seconds after the last woman left the building. Those men blew

themselves up to escape arrest."

"What makes you say that?" Eloise grilled me.

"They

hated you, women, that is, and your society. They wanted nothing less

than the death of our species, a decision reached undoubtedly after

decades of female abuse," I explained.

"But what makes you make that assumption?" Eloise persisted.

"I

studied their actions, what they did and what they failed to do.

Coupled with my personal experiences, this was the only logical

conclusion, twisted as it is," I said.

"You have no police or psychological experience that we are aware of," a fourth reporter stated.

"No, I have something much better," I answered.

"I'm

a man and I am deeply in tune with their sense of hopelessness and

depression. I sympathize with their perceived plight, but I taking the

lives of those poor children was a pathetic gesture that will not make

the situation any better," I countered. "They didn't deserve to grow up

in this world, but they didn't deserve to die at the hands of androcidal

maniacs either."

"Are you confessing to being in the MRA," the conservative prodded.

"No,"

I shook my head. "I don't think there is an MRA and if there was such

an organization and I was invited to join, I'd run to the police," I

explained, "and that's saying something since I think the majority of

the police are a bunch of misandristic, brutal thugs."

"I

wouldn't join the MRA because they are murderers. The second I start

seeing my fellow humans as objects instead of people, I've become just

as bad as most of the women I've ever known," I committed myself to

blasphemy.

"You sound like you hate us," Eloise smirked. She was a smart cookie alright.

"I

don't hate women. I don't know most of you, but I can explain my issue

with your gender with three examples. For starters, empty both your

hands," I suggested. A few did. "Okay, reach out to the woman next to

you and put your hand on her crotch." I thought four or five actually

did it. The few victims swatted the hands away.

"What is that supposed to prove?" Maribel was losing her patience.

"Well,

most of you didn't do it, but if you were groped understand I go

through that fifty times a day, every work day. When I'm walking down

the street, standing in line or on the metro and even in this very

building," I told them. "Every day."

"I

noticed the few who were actually groped protested. I can't. No one

will listen. Theoretically it is against the law, but I challenge you to

cite the last time a woman was convicted of unwanted sexual contact," I

added. "As women, what do you do when you see a sister pat a man on the

ass or bump against his package? Do you call her on it? Do you ask if

he's okay? Do you assume that since she got a free feel you can get one

too?"

"That's

one. Number two, last night I went on my first date in three years,

sadly enough with the same woman who was my last date three years ago," I

related. "Among the other fascinating aspects of this encounter, she

was kind enough to inform me that during the two and a half day sexual

marathon she had orchestrated to milk me for the benefit of society, I

serviced 41 of her sorority sisters. Among the other fascinating aspects

of this encounter, was the revelation that eighteen of those women

became pregnant and I have sixteen children that I knew nothing about

until last night."

"It

sounded pretty insane to me too. If you don't believe me you can check

out the facts. It was the Theta Omega Sorority in the fall of my

freshman year. The membership and birth records should be public record.

That's not the point. The point is I wasn't even informed of my own

children's births. I wasn't informed because in your eyes, fathers don't

matter," I reasoned. "The decision to steal our children is totally

your fault."

"Example

three came this morning when Steve, I guy I barely knew, threw himself

in front of the metro at our station right in front of me. He waved to

me right before he leapt to his death. Why would he take his own life? I

think the poor, dumb bastard grieved for his departed wife. Your

society dictated his time to mourn. Instead of being given time to

recover and move on he was dosed with drugs to ramp up his libido and

primed him for harvest," I stated frankly

"The law decided that he was essentially a fuck toy. He decided to fuck you back and escaped by the only means available, death," I was growing both crazier and angrier.

"You

say 'escaped'," Maribel countered. "He sounds like a poor, sick man in

need of care. He was a suicide, not a failed romantic."

"Sick

implies that you will get better or die," I met her gaze. "He was never

going to get better. The cure for him was time and you weren't giving

him any. The fact is, Steve committed suicide. By now the police have

his suicide note and should be able to answer your questions about what

his final thoughts were."

"Steve's

suicide will continue to have impacts on the other men in our city. It

certainly had a major impact on me. I was questioned at the metro

station, I argued with the police, and was brought by a G E D detective,

Somerset Trainer, to City Hall," I scanned the room. "Because I had

witnessed a suicide, Detective Trainer instructed building security to

strip search me then anally fist me. Maybe they were afraid I had a bomb

up my ass."

"I

pissed on myself, cried and pretty much felt nearly worthless before my

boss rescued me," I related. "I'm sure you know Stella. It was her fist

and wrist inside me. Make sure to thank her for keeping you safe from a

crackpot like myself, but you might not want to shake her right hand."

"That

story sounds absurd," Eloise reminded the group. "Unfortunately for

some people, I find you interesting Israel. I know you left the station

with Detective Trainer and I know you were escorted to security room

three by guards Stella Richards and Barbra Nazari and held there for

over forty minutes. Afterwards, a sanitation engineer was dispatched to

the room to clean it up."

"That

doesn't prove anything, of course," Eloise murmured, "but it does beg

the question why you, one of only a handful of men in city government,

was singled out for special attention." Maybe it was the fact that we

were on the national stage, Eloise added, "Maybe it is because you

called Isobel Diaz a monster after she made you expose yourself in her

office."

I had clearly stepped into a shit pile and I had no idea how to get out.

"Well,

Mr. Jensen?" Maribel requested confirmation. "Did you call the Mayor's

Chief of Staff a monster after she sexually harassed you?"

"Excuse

me," I rubbed my forehead. "I need to go and clean out my desk now. Um,

support the Mayor. She is most likely the lesser of two evils."

"Oh my God," Naomi groaned. "You did not just say that."

"Mr. Jensen," several voices called out. Ironically, I chose that moment to forget I had a microphone on.

"I

flee with neither dignity nor poise," I muttered. I didn't know where

the quote came from but it felt fatalistically appropriate. Selma had

the presence of mind to disconnect my hook-up.

"Francesca, what angle are we putting on this?" Selma muttered.

"A

simple statement that Mr. Jensen became unhinged by the suicide this

morning seems reasonable," Francesca sighed. She was right.

"That won't counter what Eloise Granger said," Selma pointed out.

"Maybe we could ask Ms. Diaz to issue a formal apology," Francesca looked at Selma.

"Let's

try not to stray into the realm of fantasy," Selma sighed. "Israel, is

there any way you could simply disappear, forever?"

"Considering

that my brethren have been vanishing steadily for the past six months,

that's not a far-fetched prospect," I nodded.

"Shit," Selma muttered.

"Shit,"

Francesca echoed but for a different reason. We had exited the elevator

and walked right into Detectives Trainer and Seger. My first thought

was that they were going to shoot me. Then I recalled that I had an

interrogation coming my way.

"Come

with us, Mr. Jensen," Somerset commanded. I went along. I was hardly

brave about it. I was scared and sweating. Even then, I couldn't find it

in myself to regret the words I'd used earlier. The feeling that came

from speaking my mind felt too good.

"Mr.

Jensen! Mr. Jensen!" a short, young woman with big glasses and thick,

wavy russet colored hair came running my way as I reached the conference

room door.

"Miss," Gayle interposed her body between the woman and me, "this is a police matter. Back off."

"Well, I'd hope so," the woman huffed. "I'm Capri O'Hara from the Public Defender's office, Mr. Jensen's legal counsel."

Holy

Hell. Was this the lawyer Angel Kristi had steered my way? She looked

barely out of high school, much less law school. The four of us entered

the conference room and Gayle shut the door.

"We are recording this interview," Somerset began. "Interview one with Mr. Israel Jensen, age twenty-one."

"Oh yeah," Capri peeped. "I should do this too, record the conversation that is."

"Do this much?" I turned to her. She was to my left, Somerset was across from me and Gayle was opposite Capri.

"This is my first independent case," she admitted.

"Been a lawyer long?" I asked.

"Two months. I failed the Bar, the first time out, but most law school graduates do. Don't worry."

Worry? Why would I worry? The cops were going to gut me like a trout.

Fuck

getting put on a 72 hour psychiatric watch. I was about to be

institutionalized. By the smiles on Gayle's and Somerset's faces, they

were thinking the same thing.

"Why are we here today?" Capri grinned.

"We

are getting to that, Ms. O'Hara," Somerset replied. "Mr. Jensen, we

want to question you about the disappearance of thirty men in the city."

"What are the victims' names?" Capri interrupted.

"We are getting to that," Gayle growled.

"Provide my client with a list," Capri stated firmly. "He'll review it and let you know if he recognizes any of them."

"We

are trying to determine if he knows any of them right now. Since he is

in the potential victim pool, we need to question him," Somerset

explained in a chilly tone.

"So

you brought Mr. Jensen in because he is a male, aged between 18 and

25," Capri verified. "That's gender profiling. You can't do that. It is

illegal."

It

seemed that Capri was, despite her youthful cuteness and small size

possessed fearless, ferocious and an obstinate tenacity, the Jack

Russell puppy of lawyers.

"Listen

you," Gayle half-stood. "Men like him are vanishing and we need to find

out why. The fate of the human race is at stake. How dumb are you?"

"That's

a nice excuse," Capri responded calmly, "but hardly a valid legal

reason for detaining my client. Mr. Jensen, do you wish to cooperate

with the police at this time?"

"No way in hell," I blurted out quickly.

"We are done here," Capri stated with self-assurance. She stood to go as did I.

"You

are not going anywhere," Somerset sneered. "If Mr. Jensen doesn't

cooperate we have little choice but to put him under a 72 hour watch." I

closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'll

have him out before you finish processing him and then slap you both

with an unlawful imprisonment suit," Capri growled right back. "You

can't put a person into what amounts to a prison on a hunch, Detective.

How has he acted irrationally or against the public interest?"

"Did you listen to that fucking tirade at the press conference?" Somerset stared at Capri.

"An

expression of free speech, no matter how unpalatable to the ruling

elite, is still guaranteed by the First Amendment," Capri noted. "A

swing and a miss. That's strike two. Care to try for three?"

"Listen up, you pipsqueak," Gayle trumpeted.

Whatever else she was going to say was lost as the Mayor, Ms. Diaz and two flunkies I wasn't familiar with entered the room.

"Excuse me," the Mayor gave us her best artificial smile. "I wanted to make sure that Israel was okay."

"He is not being very helpful," Somerset got out.

"We have established that there is no reason for him to be here in the first place," Capri jumped in.

"There

shouldn't be a problem," the Mayor smiled with a suspicious

satisfaction in her eye. "I talked to the District Attorney and she's

agreed to hold the review of this case over until Monday."

"Madame Mayor," Capri kept fighting, "there is no case."

"Miss?" the Mayor turned frosty.

"Ms. Capri O'Hara, Public Defender's office," Capri stuck out her chin defiantly.

"Ms.

O'Hara, Mr. Jensen is under investigation by a joint city or federal

task force over allegations of sexual misconduct with an off-duty police

officer," the Mayor's smile returned.

"I

remain his legal counsel until all such matters are resolved," Capri

insisted. "I hope law enforcement keeps that in mind before they detain,

transport, or interview him."

"It

shouldn't be a problem," the Mayor kept looking at me. "I'm sure the

District Attorney will clear up this matter on Monday. No charges will

be filed. I look forward to seeing you Saturday night, Israel."

There it was, the 'fuck you.’

If I refused to go the Isobel's freak show, not only were they coming

at me with the full force of the law, they were going after Angel as

well. I was emotionally confused where Detective Kristi was concerned. I

felt something for her, but I didn't want to. I'd lived in emotional

isolation for three years and it had become my status quo.

"I,

I look forward to it," I stuttered. It was a poor lie. Four of the

women in the room giving me smug smiles only added insult to injury.

"Glad to hear it," the Mayor smiled and nodded. She turned, took her people and exited.

"This interview is concluded," Somerset snickered. "Good job, Israel. You folded like a good little boy."

"Need a tampon for your ass?" Gayle chuckled. I looked away. The two G E D detectives were laughing as they left the room.

"Mr.

Jensen, Israel, what was that about? I'm your lawyer, you can tell me,"

Capri touched my arm. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"What are you doing with this case?" I countered.

"All

I know is some rather frantic L O L E contacted the office. No one else

wanted it, but since it was an official notification, it rolled all the

way down the seniority chain into my lap," Capri informed me. "In case

you are wondering, I am the junior lawyer. I couldn't pass this off to

anyone else."

"Hmmm," I mused. "Thank you for your zealous representation, I guess."

"I

swear by the God, you would think those G E D officers had never seen a

lawyer before," she chuckled. "This was hardly a difficult case. Or

'is', as I don't believe this matter is over, despite the Mayor's

assurances. So, back to my question, what's going on?"

"I need to get back to work," I evaded. Capri dutifully followed along, all the way to my cubicle.

"I'm

not going to go away," she insisted. Since this was the first chance my

co-workers had to interact with me since the press conference, there

was double confusion.

Bethany came right at me.

"We need to talk," she hissed.

"Sure," I shrugged helplessly. "Oh, this is Capri O'Hara, my lawyer."

"Alone," Bethany demanded. I gave Capri an apologetic look then walked off a few steps with my current tormentor.

"You

shouldn't have said anything about the children," she whispered. She

meant my offspring. "I only told you because I thought you would be

discreet. Now there is going to be a problem."

"Don't

worry about it," I assured her. "They'll look at my public dating

record and realize that over half of my sexual encounters were with you

and you didn't get pregnant."

"I'm

not sure exactly how many times we had sex but it had to be close to a

hundred in just over two months. Then there was those forty sexual

encounters over a fifty hour period that weekend. Since that weekend,

I've had 27 bouts of intercourse," I related, "in a three year period. I

exhausted my Mother's life insurance benefit buying out of sex at every

opportunity."

"You

might want to be more concerned at what other women are going to think

about that," I told her, "when it becomes public knowledge."

"What do you mean?" she got pissed.

"I went from no recorded sex until I was eighteen, to a torrid affair with one woman, you," I outlined for her.

"Then

I had one extensive sexual encounter were I am recorded as having

sexual intercourse once every seventy minutes over a weekend. After

that, I went on to having sex once every forty days," I stated. "Women

who don't know us might assume something turned me off sex. A few

reporters are going to question you about our relationship and that

weekend at your sorority."

"Don't

worry, though. They are women and I'm sure they will understand that

whole sisterhood thing and how your sisters voted for you to share me

with them because that's a perfectly normal and acceptable way for women

to behave toward a man," I said patiently.

"You are twisting this all out of proportion," Bethany complained.

"Bethany,

you are acting like you did something wrong," I sounded confused, but I

wasn't. "Tell them exactly what happened and you'll do fine."

Realistically, Bethany was going to suffer no public repercussions over

this. She was too well connected. I could hope her society equals would

be less forgiving over this embarrassment.

"Israel, I was being nice to you and this is how you repay me? You are a bastard," Bethany snarled.

"If you never want to talk to me again, I'll understand," I tried not to sound too hopeful.

"I'm

definitely considering it," Bethany threatened. "Seriously, you've had

one bad sexual encounter and you are letting it screw up your entire

life. Oh, Francesca wants to see you too."

That's

right. Being chained in a basement, constantly pumped up with drugs and

repeatedly raped for almost three months was 'one bad sexual

encounter.’ I gave up on trying to explain anything to her. There was

nothing in it for me save anger and I already had enough of that in

spades. As I went to Ms. Silverhorn's office, Capri caught up but kept

silent.

"Ms. Silverhorn?" I called out as I stuck my head into her office. Her eyes flashed from Capri then back to me.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"I'm going to Isobel's function Saturday night," I confessed.

The look she gave me was virtually unknown to me, she looked as if she'd let me down.

"I'll get through it," I told her confidently. "I always do."

"You shouldn't have to, Israel," Francesca responded. "Take the rest of the day and tomorrow off. We'll see you on Monday."

"Thanks,"

I said. I wanted to gain the self-worth that came from doing a job I

had trained for, but I needed a break since my whole life had pretty

much been spiraling down the toilet since Monday morning. I

double-checked my desk before departing the office. No one said

'good-bye.’ I couldn't blame them. After the press conference, I was

toxic.

City

Hall security tried to shanghai me as I tried to leave. Capri went

after them like a weasel scenting blood. She threw so much legal code,

precedent, and Supreme Court ruling at them, I think they released me

just to shut her up. I couldn't even figure out why she was still with

me, unless it was sex, shit.

"I've got it from here," I assure her.

"If

you want me to go away, tell me what is going on. We can start with why

those two G E D detectives have it out for you, what in the hell was

going on at that press conference and finish up with why the Mayor has a

personal interest in what you are doing this weekend," Capri grilled

me.

We

were walking down to the Plaza metro station and I was contemplating

what I was going to say to Capri when Capri's phone rang.

"Hello,

yes, Mrs. Casey, but, I understand, but, I don't want to be reassigned,

but," was Capri's side of the conversation. I didn't feel like

eavesdropping but I was getting pissed.

I snatched the phone out of her hand.

"Who is this?" I snapped.

"Who is this?" the female on the other end regarded me.

"I'm Israel Jensen, Ms. O'Hara's client," I glared.

"I'm

Deputy Public Defender Tamara Casey. My unit handles male-related

cases," she explained in a thoroughly professional manner. "Since this

case has merit, we are assigning a more senior member of the Public

Defender's office to your case, someone with experience in these

matters."

"Thank

you, but no thank you," I replied. "You dumped this dog of a case in

her lap. She clearly didn't want it, but she's done her job admirably.

I'm keeping her."

"Oh,

that's not your call to make, Mr. Jensen," she related. "It is the

'Public' Defender's' office and we assign cases to our court officers

based on merit and experience."

"Now

Tamara, we both know that's bullshit," I mocked her. "I don't know who

has leaned on you and I don't care. Ms. Capri has faced down two G E D

sociopaths and kept me from my second security physical violation of the

day. What I also know is that I'm heading home. If Ms. O'Hara is

removed from my case, I'm not going home."

"I'm

going down to Eloise Granger's desk at the Sentinel and relaying this

entire conversation," I promised. "She's going to want to know why a

lawyer who has done a bang-up job for me and who I have requested to

stay on my case was removed." I had no clue how effective that threat

could be. As far as I knew, Eloise would laugh in my face.

"Mr.

Jensen, you have no idea what you are doing or the legal ramifications

of your actions. If you are refusing the P D O's help, so be it," Mrs.

Casey told me.

"I'm

not refusing help, Mrs. Casey. I'm requesting that you not take Capri

O'Hara off the case. Since it is painfully obvious that you attempted to

give me the worst representation possible and that backfired in your

face, I'm not going to take the chance that you replace her with someone

less competent or with their own agenda."

"We

are not a private law firm. We don't represent the public based on

personal preference," Tamara countered. "If you want a choice, hire a

private lawyer."

"With what? I'm damn near broke," I answered. "I'm the type of person you are supposed to represent."

"Then

let us represent you," she treated me like a small child. Capri held up

her tablet. On it were the words 'ask for a Change of Counsel hearing.’

If I used those words, I'd get Capri in trouble. I had to think quickly

to get my point across so it seemed like Tamara's suggestion.

"Listen,

Tamara, Ms. O'Hara is my counsel of record, right?" I ad-libbed. "Since

that is the case, I want a judge's decision on whether or not I change

my lawyer. What is it called?"

"It is a Change of Counsel hearing," Tamara snipped.

"Fine, before you replace Ms. O'Hara, I want one of those," I demanded.

"Very well, request noted. Give the phone back to Capri, please," Tamara sighed.

"Yes, Ma'am," Capri said after the phone returned to her grasp.

"No,

Ma'am, I have no idea how Mr. Jensen developed his legal expertise. His

juvenile records are sealed and he has no current legal complaints,"

Capri stated. "I was in the process of figuring out what the current

problem is when you called. Yes, Mrs. Casey, I'll have a report as soon

as possible, as soon as I know anything. Good-bye."

"You haven't done me any favors," Capri studied me.

"Lady,

I'm herbicide to every blossoming career I come across," I noted.

"Where do you want to go to hear my story?" It was an exhausting process

that led us back to my place. I didn't want to go, but the taxi ride to

my place after my date with Bethany had made going out to eat a

financial impossibility.

To be continued

By FinalStand for Literotica

In a world controlled by women, Israel Jensen starts to come apart.

Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. 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 Ms. 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." Ms.

Granger laughed again. I figured she was a Ms. 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 Ms. Silverhorn with the

gist of my talk with Ms. 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 Ms. 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.

“Ms.

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 Ms.

Chen would penetrate my deception but I'm sure she'd try.

Twenty minutes later I was called to Ms. Silverhorn's office. To emphasize how fucked my situation was, Bethany's look as I passed by was full of concern and sympathy.

"Israel,

Ms. 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," Ms. 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 Ms. 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,

Ms. 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 Ms. 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.

"Your responses were very well thought out," I got out.

"I

don't need your approval, young man," Selma snapped. "You are only to

say what we tell you to say. You were hired for your looks, not for any

imaginary intelligence you mistakenly think you possess."

"Give him a second, Selma," Francesca commanded.

"Your

answers were nice Selma and they will appeal to your female audience

and will be repeated in a thousand other mediums," I tried to explain.

"Men don't elect candidates, women do," Selma pointed out.

"We are 8.5% of the city's population," I countered.

"Men don't vote," she reposed. "Less than half of the male population goes to the polls."

"And they're not going to vote if all they hear is a woman's perspective on everything," I insisted.

"Francesca," Selma grumbled.

"Israel

stepped out of bounds. Unfortunately for us, he's right. The Mayor

won't get any kind of national coverage spouting the exact same thing

every other ass-covering agency is repeating over and over again,"

Francesca reasoned.

"Israel,

I want you to look up the definition of the word 'aggressive' when we

get back to the office. You clearly aren't able to pin it down to my

satisfaction," Ms. Silverhorn added. Her phone rang as we were about to

step out on our floor. She held out a hand to stop me.

"Selma,

start running down the whole 'community in a hurricane' angle. Israel

and I will be back soon, I hope," she told her senior subordinate.

I

stayed at Ms. Silverhorn's side as she directed the elevator to go two

stories up, the chief executive of the city's floor. Ms. Chen showed us

straight to Ms. Diaz's office.

"Nice

approach, Francesca," Isobel Diaz began. "The Mayor likes it but next

time feed us some of the proper keywords. We don't like playing catch

up, unless Israel went off the charted path."

Yes, I was in the room and they were talking about me, but I wasn't part of the conversation.

"Israel

didn't do anything I don't approve of," Francesca came to my defense.

"Those were his words but I feel this is the right position to put the

Mayor at the front of this issue."

"So Mr. Jensen, what is your seasoned political opinion on this issue?" Isobel regarded me.

'Thank you for being a bitch' didn't seem to fit the situation.

"Everyone

and their mother will be telling the women of this nation that there is

no crisis and the government will deal with this. Sadly, that's a lie

and it's such a pathetic lie on the scale of expecting a wet tissue to

stop a monorail going full speed," I stared into her eyes.

"Women

don't care that it is only two thousand men; at least that was the

count this morning, it may have gone up since then. They aren't like you

and your friends. They may date once or twice a year and despite what

they are being told, they are seeing their dating life being cut in half

or completely eliminated," I stated.

"Likewise,

no one is addressing men. Women are assuming we will mill around like

cattle in a pen waiting for the cowgirls to deal with the wolf problem,"

I noted. "If women wait, there is one less target in the nightclub.

Every hour a man waits may be the last hour of his life. I've been told

that men don't vote."

"That

may be comforting for you in the short run, but I am telling you now,

men will be voting by locking and baring their doors at night. The night

life is going to be girls only and dildos are going to become cold

comfort after a while," I continued. "I know that attitude will be

reflected in the voting box."

Isobel's

gaze bore twin holes through me for several seconds. I was sure she was

dissecting my arguments, looking for something to rake me over the

coals with. Staying ahead of the curve meant taking education chances,

especially with a weak argument and very little data to support it.

"I expect to see you Saturday night," Isobel commented.

"What would give you that idea?" came tumbling out before I could stop myself.

"Huh?" Isobel regarded me. Francesca raised a hand to her forehead in mental anguish.

"You are a pig; technically you are a sow," I went with my brain aneurism.

"You

degraded me when we first met. You are the kind of deviant that if I

saw you in a dark alleyway, I would turn and run the other way. I am

certainly never going to be in a room alone with you, or any of your

perverted buddies, if I can possibly help it. I apologize if I ever gave

you the impression I wanted to be one of your circus freaks. That was

never my intent," I emphasized.

"What makes you think you can talk to me this way, Israel?" Isobel said in a deadly, angry voice.

"I

have no clue, but I must confess that it makes me feel really, really

good," I smiled. "I imagine I'm the first one to tell you the truth

about the monster you have become and God knows you deserve it."

"I am going to break you," she glared with a shark-like smile of her own.

"Get in line with the rest of your gender," I muttered.

"Get out," she seethed. Francesca and I beat feet to the elevator.

"Was that really necessary?" Francesca inquired out of the side of her mouth.

"No, definitely not but, I repeat, it felt good," I sighed.

"That was a spot-on assessment, by the way," she sighed as well. "She's a monster."

"Thanks for the support in there," I noted sarcastically.

"When committing suicide, it is rude to take your friends with you," Francesca quoted.

"You are my friend now?" I looked her over.

"With your spastic personality, can you really afford to turn me away?" she countered.

"Probably not," I muttered.

"Good. I'll find you a good place to take Bethany, well lit with plenty of people," she offered.

"Does no one realize I'm pretty broke until payday? I had to put these pants on my credit card," I grunted.

"Expense the clothing to the office. I'll cover it," Francesca informed me. "Make Bethany pay for the meal and taxi."

"Is there any way I can avoid going out with Bethany?" I begged.

"No.

You've exhausted my goodwill for the week. I can't have the two of you

feuding. I can provide some cover from Isobel but I need my own house in

order," she explained. The saving grace for the day was that when we

arrived at the office, it was time to go home.

The

metro ride home was another turn at 'running the gauntlet.’ I lucked

out by bumping into an investment banker named Justin. I was afraid to

do more than look relieved to have a fellow male cover my ass,

literally. Men who don't want to be groped stood back to back to force

women to look us in the eyes when they molested us.

"So

what do you think is going on?" Justin looked over his shoulder and

asked me. Seeing my uncertainty, he added, "I saw your video a few

minutes ago, so I thought you might know more than they are telling us."

By that he meant women. I wouldn't have said that in a metro crowded

with women, but hey.

"You are in a relationship?" I guessed.

"Three,"

Justin answered. "My supervisor Estelle, a co-worker, Teddi, and a real

estate agent named Nancy. How many have you picked up?"

"None," I answered.

I

could have caused a riot by saying 'I'd rather masturbate in the shower

than touch any of the women I've met.’ Provided I lived, I would be

institutionalized.

"I

have six sisters," he hinted. One of the side benefits of having it be

so hard to keep a boy alive was you usually ended up with multiple

sisters who needed you to find someone for them.

In

China it was different; they existed in a system which roughly

translated as 'communities.’ Essentially men lived with their female

relations with the oldest female in charge. Male sexual favors were a

bargaining chip for their matriarch to use. They didn't sell their men;

that would be slavery.

No,

when a man left his 'mother's' community and went to his wife's, the

wife's house 'gifted' his old community with something of value. Not

slavery at all. Better yet, the man now had to service the all the women

in his 'wife's' community. One urban legend had it that a guy

discovered he was entering a community with eighty age-appropriate

women.

The

guy ran for it, was about to be recaptured so killed himself instead of

going back. The poor bastard, disguised as a woman, was boarding a

plane for Australia when the police closed in. He chose to swallow

gasoline and set himself on fire. I felt for the guy. Had he made

Australia or New Zealand, he would have been safe.

Those

two nations were 'Male Free Zones'; if you set foot in either one, you

were automatically granted citizenship and legal protection. Almost

every other nation agreed to repatriate 'lost' males. Needless to say,

North America didn't give men passports to either destination. All of

this put being molested on public transit and having some guy I had just

met peddling his sisters to me in perspective.

"My youngest sister is sixteen," Justin kept at it. "The oldest is thirty-four."

"Your Mom was ambitious," I kept it neutral.

"She is very attractive and very fertile. I have five nieces too, though none of my sisters are married yet," he grinned.

"Do you have any children of your own?" I evaded. I saw that shadow cross his face.

"I had a son with Teddi but he didn't make it," Justin sighed. "We still have to keep trying."

"Of

course," I nodded. Justin got the message; I didn't want to talk about

it. Sure, some guys like Justin embraced society's expectations. There

were also guys like me who didn't and since we wanted to avoid trouble

with the law, we avoided the subject.

Justin

exited two stops before mine. Before leaving we agreed to stick

together on the ride home when we could. The lucky man didn't have to be

at work until nine, so he took a later ride in the morning. He was also

twenty-six, thus outside of the target range for what was going on.

When I got off the metro, three women asked to accompany me home.

They

didn't really ask. Oh, they used the words 'if you like' but I knew

better. I had no good reason to say 'no.’ I could throw a tantrum, but

what would I tell the cops when they showed up? 'Sorry officers, these

three nice ladies who ride the metro with me decided to walk me home and

I freaked out about it, because I'm a nutjob.'

At

my condo I was struggling to find the strength to fend off the three

women at my door when the opposite door opened up and a medium sized,

fit brunette walked out. She took in the four of us. I knew her name but

we had never met.

"Israel, Angel and I left a few things in your kitchen last night," she lied as she sashayed to my side. "Can I pick them up?"

Three women I didn't know versus one woman I didn't know; those were my choices.

"Sure

thing Roni," I forced a smile; Roni the paramedic, Detective Kristi's

roommate. "Ladies," I addressed the others, "thank you so much for

seeing me home safely, but I need to get the place cleaned up before

going on a date tonight."

"Are you going to see her more than once?" one of them asked, Fatima, I think.

"You

don't get to ask that question," Roni interrupted my response. She was

an energetic, tanned Caucasian woman and she muscled her way between me

and the others.

"He doesn't read as attached," the copper haired Cassie said.

"We are working on it, Angel and I," Roni growled, "and Angel is a cop with a gun, so the rest of you should go home now."

"Are you threatening us?" Fatima got right into Roni's face, or would have if she hadn't been a head taller than Roni.

"Yes," Roni grinned with her head tilted up, "Yes I am."

"Honestly

I only want to get into my place and clean up," I intervened. This

insane stand-off was mostly a reminder that I was the only man on the

whole God-damn block. I knew what I had to do.

I

stepped past Roni and kissed Fatima, Cassie, and Yolanda on the cheek,

thanked them and that seemed to pacify their feelings for the time

though I'd pay for this familiarity tomorrow morning.

"Thank you," I murmured to Roni after they left.

"Angel told me to keep an eye out for you today," Roni turned but kept annoyingly in my personal space.

"Um," I stammered. "Okay."

"Do

you really have a date tonight?" Roni kept talking while I fumbled with

my lock while keeping my back to the door. "Oh, I'm freaking you out,

aren't I?" she clued in then stepped back.

"Yes you are," I sighed with relief, "and I've been told I have a date but she hasn't called yet."

"Do you want me to go back to my place?" Roni asked softly.

"If you could please," I acknowledged. "Thank you again for the coming out to help me."

"Angel thinks you are special," Roni informed me. She glided back to her place and disappeared inside.

Great.

I wished she didn't think about me at all. I went inside my own

domicile, checked out each room and closet before returning to my

refrigerator for a drink then my sofa to check my answering machine

displayed on my TV screen. I had over fifty messages. I wasn't aware I

knew that many people in the city.

One

was from Detective Kristi, two were from Bethany, three were from the

Metropolitan Police and the rest were from a variety of different

numbers I didn't recognize. I called Kristi first, confirming that I was

home safe and that she would be by sometime after midnight. The first

call from Bethany gave the place and time of our date.

The

second told me to ignore the first message and named a new place to

show up at, same time. I called Bethany back and told her I couldn't

make it until 9:30. My excuse was my workout schedule. The real reason

was I wanted as little after-date time as possible. Either she let me

off the hook or she bought my lie.

My third call was to the police.

"Detective

Somerset Trainer, G E D," the woman said. She was a stern serious

red-head with dead grey eyes. I'm sure I had nightmares about a woman

like this. Of greater importance was the G E D, the Gender Enforcement

Division aka Sex Crimes.

"This is Israel Jensen. You called me," I replied. It was unnecessary to use my name, caller I D and all.

"Yes,

Mr. Jensen. We need you to come down to the Plaza Central Station for

an interview. We will expect you at 1:00 p.m. tomorrow," she told me.

"Ah, what is this pertaining to," I stumbled with the words.

"This is an official police investigation," Somerset answered. "That's all you need to know."

"Oh, I'm not coming in," I blurted out. The look on her face was priceless. I hung up. Five seconds later the phone beeped.

"Mr. Jensen," Somerset appeared uncertain. "We seem to have been disconnected."

"No, I hung up," I answered.

"You can't do that," she barked. "Am I going to have to send a patrol unit to pick you up?"

"I haven't broken the law," I mumbled.

"How

does Obstruction of Justice hit you?" she replied. I was collapsing

inside. I couldn't understand why I was digging my heels on this matter.

It wasn't like I could win.

"What

am I obstructing?" I snapped. "You aren't telling me shit, so shut up

and stop wasting my time or get off your Goddamn ass and tell me what

this is about!"

There was a deafening silence.

"You stay right there," she stated calmly. "We'll be right over."

"Bring a search warrant because I'm not answering the door," I countered.

"What? Listen up you bastard," she got out.

"Since

you seemed to have forgotten it, I'm a citizen and that means I have

rights and you are trampling on them along with my patience," I

interrupted. "I'm invoking my right to counsel as well, so when you want

to talk to me, my lawyer needs to be present." I had no clue where to

get a lawyer from.

I had no money and the barristers willing to face down the police for a man's benefit were few and far between.

"Keep talking asshole," she groused. "You are digging yourself a deeper grave every time you open your mouth."

"For

what?" I groaned. "I don't know anything about anything. I just moved

to this city and I know a grand total of four people well enough to

comfortably use their first name and one of those is the cop who is

keeping an eye on me. Do you have any questions or can I say goodbye?"

"We will be talking soon enough," Somerset grinned.

"I

don't think so and goodbye," I signed off. I had truly boned myself for

no reason I could comprehend. I called Detective Kristi. She couldn't

protect me, I didn't expect her too.

"Detective Kristi, I need some help," I asked when she answered.

"Israel, can you make it quick," she said. "I'm in the middle of something."

"I need the name of a good criminal defense attorney, I'm about to get arrested," I informed her.

"Shit,"

she muttered. "I'll call you back." With that, she was gone. There was

nothing else to do but start dinner. As soon as the veggie pasta went

into the boiling water, the doorbell rang.

"Who is it?" I said over the system.

"It

is the police," a strange woman responded. "Open up." I shrugged. I

certainly wasn't going to invite them in. I had already lost but I

wasn't going to make it easy on them. They actually waited over a minute

before finally the cops figured that out. They overrode my lock and

opened the door.

In came two uniformed officers.

"You can't come in," I called out from the kitchen.

"Huh? Mr. Jensen, we have come to take you downtown," the lead cop stated and came my way.

"Where is your warrant? If you don't have a warrant, you are breaking the law," I held my ground.

"It

is called probable cause. Do we need to restrain you?" she said. The

second cop was scanning my dwelling. I half-turned my body so that the

closest cop, the talker, could see that I held the handle to a pot of

boiling water (and pasta). Her hand went to her taser. She had a pistol

as well, but I hated to think what a man had to do to actually get shot

by the police.

"Put it down," the cop cautioned me. Cop Two sensed her partner's apprehension and angled for a shot at me as well.

"It is my dinner," I informed her.

"Put

it down or you will be tasered," Cop One demanded. Hurting the police

was worse than stupid; it would be an actual legal violation.

"I am going to slowly put it on the back burner and cut off the front one," I stated.

"Last warning," she threatened.

"That's

right; I'm standing over a burning hot surface and you are going to

light me up," I sighed. I moved the pot back and cut off the burner and I

didn't experience extreme pain.

"Put your hands on the counter top, palms down, and spread your legs," Cop One ordered.

"What the hell is going on?" Kuiko growled. The cops had left the door open.

"It is a police matter ma'am," Cop Two moved to block Kuiko's entry.

"Israel, what's going on?" Kuiko asked of me.

"I

don't know beyond a grievous violation of my civil rights," I answered.

"They have no warrant for my detention or entry into my dwelling, but

here they are in my kitchen getting ready to detain me by force," I

mused. I was about to be physically restrained. After the week I'd been

having, I figured that would break me, rendering the rest of my

resistance mute.

"Ma'am, this is a police matter," Cop Two repeated. "Go back to your dwelling."

"No!"

Zuiko insisted. "You are not running off with our only guy." All I

could think of was 'Wow, Zuiko really, really, really wants to get

laid.’ She barely knew me. Cop One put her hands on me and started to

move me into the desired position.

I countered that by linking my fingers together in front of me and we began to struggle.

"Lady, leave or you will be arrested," Cop Two threatened.

"No

way," Zuiko held her ground. "He's the only guy on the block and the

only other guy in a two block radius is a drugged out zombie. You two

want to start a riot, go right ahead, but you can't just grab our only

male without some sort of authorization."

The

two cops stopped. They had no qualms about annihilating my rights, but

pissing off several hundred already edgy women was enough to give them

pause. It was humiliating though not unexpected.

"We are going to call this in," Cop One compromised.

Earlier

in the day I had woven a lie about community. I wasn't being spared

because I was a part of a community. I wasn't their neighbor. I was

being saved on the belief that I would reciprocate with sexual favors,

not for any skill or talent I might bring to the group. Zuiko thought

she was doing me a favor. I genuinely believed she thought she was my

friend yet even she stated my prime value as that of a sperm donor.

Seconds later the phone rang. It was Detective Trainer.

"Mr. Jensen, what is your malfunction?" she grated.

"I wanted to be treated as an equal," I met her gaze, feeling terribly tired inside and out.

"You are a citizen, Mr. Jensen," she tried and failed to sound pleasant.

"Yeah,

that's why two of your cohorts have stormed into my apartment without a

warrant or just cause, threatened me with bodily harm and attempted to

ruin my dinner," I stared back with emotionless eyes.

"This is an official police matter, Mr. Jensen. Now come down to the station and let us question you," Somerset reiterated.

"What does this pertain to?" we went over old ground but this time with witnesses.

"Obstruction of Justice if you are not careful," Somerset seethed.

"Over what?" I blasted back. "Right over the phone I could tell you everything I know."

"That's not how an interrogation works," she explained bitterly.

"Interrogation?

And you are still wondering why I'm not placing myself at your mercy?

Lady, I'm not putting myself alone in a room with you and your closest

friend if I can help it," I repeated a rather recent declaration.

"Mr. Jensen, we are the police and," she got out.

"That

makes it worse, not better. Police have been the bane of my existence

for the last third of my life. I don't trust you, I don't like you and I

certainly have zero faith in you doing your jobs where I am concerned.

Me coming in isn't going to help me," I informed her.

"What about helping your fellow males?" she countered.

"Oh,

is that what this investigation is about? Detective Somerset, if I

don't think you can provide any protection for me, why should I believe

you can help any male?" I reposed. There was a long pause.

"Mr.

Jensen, Israel, we need to canvas the males in danger and see if we can

discover any links to the men who have gone missing," she answered.

"Was

that so difficult? Had you told me this a half hour ago when I first

asked and treated me like a human being, we could have avoided all this

crap," I chided her.

"You have an attitude problem," she sniped.

"Yes, I do. I have a problem with your fucking attitude, you useless twit," I growled.

"I

want you to go to sleep tonight wondering how many more men are going

to slip through your fingers because you can't do your job. Better yet,

think about how many of my brethren are going to vanish believing the

lie that you want to help them, that you will be there for them and

you're not. You are going to fail them just as you've been failing me my

entire life. Good night Detective Somerset Trainer, it has not been a

pleasure."

Oh

yeah, I had just unloaded on a police detective, a sex crimes detective

at that. I'd done it in front of anyone standing near her desk plus the

two cops standing in my condo and the ten or so neighbors hovering at

my door. Yay me! Apparently I wasn't done either.

"What are you looking at?" I turned on the two officers. "Get the fuck out of my place you fascist drones." They reacted as if slapped.

"Check that language, Mister," Cop One snapped back.

"Call

someone who cares," I rebounded. "You've got your marching orders. Beat

it. You'll have your grubby paws on me tomorrow at one. Until then your

misandry is stinking up the place."

"You need correction," Officer Two chimed in. By that she meant therapy and drugs.

"Why?

Because I resent you two breaking into my place and trying to drag me

off illegally, because I stand up for my rights, or because I know you

are not doing your jobs?" I griped. "You've lost 28 men now," I looked

to the crowd at the door.

"Oh

yeah, they lost four more of us last night in this city alone. The rate

of our disappearances is accelerating nation-wide and by the end of the

year it could be as high as thirty thousand," I lied about that last

number but what the hell.

"Mister, you are starting a panic," Officer One cautioned somewhat fearfully.

"Lady, I work at the Mayor's Office. We get all kinds of data," I lied again.

"Wait, you are that guy from the news conference," a girl from the door called out. "You said everything would be okay?"

"One, I did not say everything was okay," I corrected.

"I

said we all had to work together, to which the fascist police force

responded to by dragging in the potential victims and treating them like

criminals," I laid out. "That is pretty much the opposite of 'working

together.’ Secondly, the truth is that every man my age should get an

illegal firearm, barricade himself in his home and only have his food

delivered by his mother."

"I

reasoned that the vast female majority didn't want to hear the truth

and since they elect the Mayor, I sold out my gender," I stated firmly.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have to eat a light dinner because I'm being

forced to go out on a date with my ex-girlfriend who had me gang-raped

in college and I doubt I'll be able to hold down food in her presence."

"My boss is demanding it because my desire to vomit whenever she is near is disrupting the office's work dynamic," I explained.

"That's plain wrong," Kuiko spoke up. The cops were making their way to the door.

"Kuiko,

your defense of me earlier, while admirable and appreciated," I said as

she smiled, "referred to me as one of the two functioning cocks in a

two block radius."

"That

pretty much eradicates me as a personality. I understand that impulse

though. That's why I only have sex with strangers, women I hope I will

never have to meet again. They are vaginas that I'm forced to interact

with by law, not by desire," I sighed. "I don't want to look at women

solely as mammary glands and fuck holes. That would make me as bad as most of you."

"But we care about you," Kuiko blurted out. "I only said that to worry the police."

"Yeah

and both of you knew it would work," I responded. "You assume I will

put out eventually and they assume I am putting out, which I'm not and

I'm not going to if I can help it. See, every time I screw a girl, I

prostitute another part of my soul and chip away at any hope I have of

finding happiness in this life. The truth is I hate having sex and I

only do it because society will take away my freewill if I refuse."

By the looks the women at the door were giving me, this was an ugly truth they didn't want to confront.

"Maybe therapy would help," volunteered Venus from the first floor. She'd called earlier.

"Been there, done that, made me the man I am today," I bantered.

"What about drugs?" a lady I didn't know suggested.

"Why bother?" I grinned. "Go down to maintenance and borrow a screwdriver. Ram it into my forehead and lobotomize me."

"That's not what I meant," she responded defensively.

"What

do you think those drugs do to a man?" I asked. "They take away our

ability for rational thought where sex is concerned. We'd hump our

mothers, sisters, a cop standing on a street corner or participate in a

gang-bang on public transit. The worst part is we eventually come down

from that high, we know exactly what degradations and perversions we

went through and we know we'll do it again and again until the drugs

cycle out of our system."

"It would be more merciful to make brain dead," I finished.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Roni pressed forward. Oh fuck, Angel's roommate and someone I gave a damn about (Angel that is). I owed Angel an honest answer.

"Give me time," I sighed wearily. "Assume that I don't mind attempting to be friends, but I don't want a sexual relationship."

"Can we hug you?" Kuiko asked.

"Warn me first," I replied. "Keep your hands above the waist and I'm okay."

"If you hate women, how come your reviews are so good?" Venus sounded a bit angry.

"I don't hate all women, just a specific few," I sadly met her gaze.

"When

I have sex it isn't for the review. I don't hold it against the woman

that I'm being forced into intercourse with so I show her as much

consideration and attention as I can," I explained. "After my first

rape, it was something they taught me in therapy. The theory was that if

I could make a woman happy, she would develop concern for my wellbeing.

That was a lie, of course."

"Wait,"

Roni muttered, "you've been sexually assaulted more than once?" I

nodded. "But you are only 21. That's all fouled up." For a moment the

mothering instinct kicked in. The women started flowing into my place

causing me to stumble back in near terror.

"Whoa," Kuiko threw her arms out to the sides to act as a barrier.

"The

last thing I think Israel needs is a bunch of us to swarm his

apartment. Israel, you are still going to attend the party Saturday,

aren't you?" Kuiko changed the subject.

"Sure," I nodded. "I look forward to matching personalities to faces."

"Do you ever think you will sleep with one of us, girls in the complex?" Venus worried. I took a deep breath.

"The

last women I really trusted betrayed me utterly," I explained. "Three

days ago, I would have had to say 'no'," and I watched the crowd

deflate.

"But,

since then I've willingly had two women in my apartment," not really a

lie, "Angel and Kuiko here, and I wouldn't have believed that possible

either. So, I say 'yes' there is a possibility that one day I'd trust

enough to have sex with a woman I know well."

"Any hope of casual sex?" a woman whose name I thought was Samantha.

"Damn

it," Roni erupted. "Haven't you been listening? He's got to work past

feeling forced to have sex before he can hope to enjoy it. Asking him to

have sex outside the legal requirements is stupid."

"Hey

now," Samantha grumbled. "Sabatini and Clark both went missing last

night. Who are we going to have sex with if not Israel?"

"Wait, who does that leave?" Kuiko groaned.

"Perez?"

"No, he got married."

"Vladimir?"

"He went missing a month ago."

"Huang?"

"Missing, I thought he moved but I checked this morning and he's vanished too."

"Damn, we are losing all our guys," several women worried and looked at me with a combination of 'please fuck me' and 'please don't vanish.’

Statistically

speaking, there were roughly five thousand women of my age group in

this district so there should have been two hundred males, my male

demographic was below the total male average due to diminishing birth

rates for men. We weren't only below that ratio, we were

catastrophically below that ratio.

A

bit of judicious checking, with people still hovering around my door,

showed that not only had twelve of the twenty-eight missing in our city

come from our district, but sixty-three had married and moved off to

couple's housing. To add to the disaster, forty-seven had been granted

permission to move out, which implied someone important's approval

because their moving was a violation of the gender quota.

The

quota had been dropping in this district for the past ten years, but

this sudden exodus was devastating to the working class women who

remained. The wealthier elements of society were moving younger men

uptown into high security towers where they could be safer and more

tightly controlled. The poorer classes were being left to fend for

themselves.

I

was a token offering to my district. Had I behaved, I would have been

moved uptown in due time as well. I had no idea what they would do with

my damaged ass now, though jail and rehabilitation seemed likely. The

whole deal with Bethany made total sense too. She'd picked me and since

she was from a rich and powerful family, she could expect to entice me

into an attachment at some point and time.

Except

for the piddling little reality that she'd raped me and I would rather

die than wake up next to her in anyplace but the morgue.

"Do you want one of us to move in and be your roommate, to keep you safe?" a female voice requested.

I

hung my head. I doubted a single woman out there, their number had

grown to about twenty, was over the age of thirty but I could already

hear their biological clocks ticking. 'Vladimir, Huang, why couldn't you

have run faster or hidden better, you selfish bastards? Perez, get your

lazy, one-woman ass back home. There is no way me and a fifty-five year

old zombie can do this by ourselves.'

"Shit," Roni grumbled. "What part about 'traumatized' do you not get?"

"But

he will get better, right?" Venus pressed. Roni should know because

despite not being a doctor of anything, she was an EMT and she cured

guys like me all the time. Maybe not.

"Israel, when did the therapy for the last assault conclude?" Roni asked.

"I

didn't get any," I enlightened them. "I reported the assault to campus

security. They told that I had gone to a sorority party, so what else

should I have expected? They told me girls will be girls. They told me

it was he said-she said, they were good girls and I couldn't prove it

was non-consensual sex. And, as they laughed me out of the station, one

of them told the others 'he's got a nice ass.’"

"You went to a sorority party," Venus stated confidently. "Of course you had sex." I thought Roni was going to hit her.

"Sex?

I'm not going to bore you with the list of physical injuries I

sustained having so called consensual sex at this so called party. You

wouldn't want to believe the authorities would overlook the damage

because you want to think the system works," I stated.

"You

wouldn't want to believe a group of women could treat a man so badly,

or that they could get away with it if they did. If, by some bizarre

chance, a man pushes you into a bathroom stall and sodomizes you, the

police come, gather DNA evidence and the guy goes to corrections," I

created an example.

"If

a women does it to a man, we have to prove we weren't asking for it.

For most men, going to the police is fruitless. We simple try to get on

with our lives and are thankful she didn't bring a few friends along for

seconds and thirds. None of you want to think about that, but that is

exactly the way it is," I continued.

"It can't be that bad," a neighbor named Natalya chimed in. "Men go out to clubs, on dates; things like that."

"What

are they supposed to do? We are required to meet women," I looked her

over. "Some guys like revolving door sex, but a good number of us are

either numb to the very act of sex, are trying to meet the 'one', or it

is simply 28 days later thus we have to perform."

"You

make it sound like half the male population should be cowering behind

their doors, afraid to go out," Samantha fought back. "Clearly that's

not the case." I was glad I'd taken the noodles off the burner because

it didn't look like my fan club as going away anytime soon.

"Have you not been listening?" I snapped.

"I'm

about to go out on a date with a woman I fear and despise. I don't have

a choice," I growled. "Have any of you ever asked a man if he's been

drugged, jumped by a date's roommate or sister or long-lost-cousin, or

threatened with arrest, loss of employment, or physical injury?" No one

responded.

"Let

me explain something to you. Bethany Fremont was the first woman I

independently had sex with. She wasn't my first. My first rapist took my

virginity. After that, it was a series of very skilled physical

therapists. I was proud when I could take them to orgasm but in the end

it was still a symbol of my broken nature," I related.

"Bethany

was different. We made love once that first night. After that, we were

all over each other. During the week, it was two or three times a day at

least. In her car, bathroom stalls, her apartment, my dorm, behind a

lecturer's desk this one time, all over the place. I loved her voice

when she called my name, the smell of her arousal, the way she'd arch

her back when she came, the feel of her skin rubbing against my naked

flesh, the taste of her when we kissed, everything," I recalled.

"Trust

her? I couldn't 'not' trust her. She completed me. She was the one who

vanquished my fear of the dark. She drove off the nightmares and brought

me into the light," I stared back through the years. "I didn't feel

safe, I felt invincible." Oh shit, I could feel the tears making tracks

down my face.

"The

next thing I knew for sure, I was vomiting into the trashcan beside my

bed. My digestive track was a mess from a three day diet of

hyper-stimulants, illegal aphrodisiacs and alcohol. I had severe memory

loss and blackouts for weeks afterward but eventually I remembered

everything, though I wished I hadn't," I muttered softly, tearing open

festering wounds.

"I

didn't go to a sorority party, Venus. I went with my girlfriend, who I

loved and trusted, to meet some of her friends at a sorority house. No

party was mentioned. I had every belief that Bethany wouldn't let

anything bad happen to me, just like all of you claim to have the best

of intentions," I continued quietly.

"I

begged her to get me out of there when the others moved in. I cried out

for her when they took my clothes, and she looked amused. She told me I

had the whole sorority for the weekend and I should enjoy it. She had

bragged to them how good at sex I was and all I had to do was show them,

all forty of them," I related.

"When

it was over, Bethany drove me home. She told me it was a great weekend

and all the girls were jealous that she had such a fun, willing slut," I

choked. "At my dorm room, she wanted to have sex one more time. I

begged off. Afterwards, I staggered over to campus security, but I've

already told you how that went."

"You should have sought out therapy," Samantha insisted.

"You

clearly don't know how the law works," I lectured. "If an incident is

reported and accepted as a sexual assault, the state pays for counseling

plus I get a sexual exemption until my therapist says I'm okay. I get

to live my life."

"If

there is no acknowledged rape then I have to commit myself into a

mental health facility on the grounds I cannot perform sexually," I

explained. "Then it is very little therapy and lots of drugs. In

counseling, they wean you off of drugs. In self-commitment, if you stop

taking your drugs, they arrest you and make you take them."

"After

campus security laughed me out of the building, I was doubly screwed.

If I turned myself in, I would have lost my scholarship and become a

drug addict, or I could piece my mind and body back together on my own

as best I could and exit college as fast as possible. See, Bethany's

sorority put out a video of my greatest exploits at their soiree.

Suddenly I was the college whore so it was open season on me on campus."

"Lucky

me; I graduated at the top of my class, I got a nice job and what I

hoped was a fresh start. Instead, I find out that Bethany got me the job

and expects me to be suitably grateful. It's college all over again. I

am trapped and there is no escape for me," I sighed hopelessly.

"You are not going to kill yourself, are you?" Venus worried.

"I

have not mentioned ending my life," I went over the legal rigmarole, "I

have not made any plans to end my existence and I have not hinted at

reasons for me wanting to cease to exist." I had to say that because of

the laws covering male suicide or attempted suicide.

"You sound pretty depressed," Kuiko murmured. "Hell, you sound awfully depressed."

"I've

given up on hope, not on life," I lied. My first plan, to exit college

and build a better life, had failed, but I'd struggled on through

Bethany and what she did to me and I wasn't going to give up now. I

didn't know how I was going to survive. I had to believe something would

come to me.

"You might find love again," Roni suggested hopefully.

"Bethany

was my second love. The first was my high school girlfriend. After my

first rape, I was too ashamed to see her," I confessed. "She moved away

before I went to college and I've never had the courage to seek her out.

We were going to be each other's first, but,”

"Okay,"

Venus muttered, "that is officially the saddest thing I've ever heard

in my life. Is that tequila on top of your refrigerator?"

"Sure," I shrugged.

"Can I have some?" Venus requested.

"Why

not," I nodded. "All of you can help yourselves. Glasses are in the top

right cabinet. I'll be standing in the corner over here," I moved away,

keeping my eyes on them of course. "Sorry Kuiko, but I think you have

figured out I don't drink."

"That's okay," she smiled playfully. "At least you didn't throw it out like you did the food."

"How'd you know?" I regarded her.

"The

inside of the container was damp. When you take the food out, the

surface dries out over time. Obviously you had just gotten rid of it

before placing the Tupperware at my door. I was hurt and offended but

now I understand. It's okay."

I

nodded. What else could I do? Thankfully, Roni and Kuiko herded my

other neighbors out and closed the door as they left. I hustled up my

dinner, ate rapidly then headed out to the gym. I was five steps out the

door when I felt the crushing weight of all the fucked up shit I'd done already that day and I still had to work around Bethany later.

I

didn't know what to do. In reality, I did know what to do, only I

didn't like it. Walking down the hall to Kuiko's place, I rang the door

and waited. Aniqua answered.

"Hello

Israel!" she beamed. Her enthusiasm made me take a half-step back.

There was something going on in the background but I couldn't

concentrate on it.

"Hi Aniqua," I stumbled. "Is Kuiko in?"

"Oh, yes she is," she kept smiling. "She told me there was a problem at your place earlier. I'm sorry I missed it."

"Not much to miss and definitely not my finest moment," I tried to make light of the fuck-up.

"Kuiko, there is a guy at the door for you," Aniqua yelled over her shoulder, chuckling.

I suddenly realized that background noise was a shower.

"Wait!

Wait!" Kuiko yelled. She appeared in their condo's hallway, a hand

towel clutched to her chest, clearly soaked and running right at me.

By accident or on purpose, Kuiko had only one breast covered, nothing else.

"Hey

Israel!" she bubbled with excitement. Had I said 'let's have sex', I

was guaranteed to be jumped right then and there. Hopefully Aniqua would

be kind enough to drag us by our ankles out of the public space.

"I am going down to the gym and wanted to know if you wanted to come along," I requested.

"Sure.

Let me get dressed," she nodded happily. She turned and sprinted back

to what must have been her bedroom, fully exposing her finely muscled

back, pert ass and slender, athletic legs.

"Nothing on the backside, Crazy-K," Aniqua snickered while rolling her eyes then looked me over.

"I'm

glad to see you're responding," Aniqua noticed my growing erection.

Sometimes I wished I could castrate myself. I was about to reply to the

tall, athletic black woman when I noticed her nipples poking through her

tight, light white tank top and red sports bra. Not good.

"I'm definitely heterosexual, Aniqua," I explained. "Please remember it is an automatic response, not a plea for companionship."

"I

understand," she sighed. "Oh, can I hug you? Kuiko said you want to be

asked." That was not precisely what I said, but okay. I'd take what

restraint I could on any woman's part.

"I'm

ready," I said after a moment steeling myself. Aniqua stepped up, put

her hands on my hips then pressed her body firmly against mine.

She

then rested her head on my shoulder, her breath tickling my neck. I

took a deep breath, exhaled then reached around and returned the hug. I

rested my right hand at the small of her back along her waistband and my

left right below her bra strap and squeezed. Aniqua virtually purred

and rubbed her body against mine.

"Hey!"

Kuiko squawked from down the hall. "What are you doing?" I tried to

back up but Aniqua wasn't letting go easily. My heart was starting to

hammer through my chest. I was regretting this whole scheme to use Kuiko

as cover while working out.

"I asked permission," Aniqua mumbled through my shoulder.

"Fine, you hugged him," Kuiko stormed up. "Now let him go."

"I

don't wanna," Aniqua mumbled. "He's the first man I've smelled in five

months. I'm getting desperate enough to start hanging around the men's

room during my breaks." I knew she was joking, okay, I hoped she was

joking, but that was damn creepy.

"Don't make me get a broom and wedge him free from you," Kuiko threatened.

"Fine,

fine, I'll back off," Aniqua did as promised. "Israel, feel free to

come by at any time," then, "Wait! Do you need me to come along as

well?"

"No," I replied assertively. "Kuiko will do." Aniqua pouted as Kuiko slipped passed.

Only

as my young Asian companion hobbled down the walkway, putting on one

shoe at a time, did I get to take in what she was, or wasn't, wearing.

Crop top, no bra, and shorts that weren't quite a bikini, but close, no

underwear lines. Some days I feel I should wear a full-body condom,

except no one makes condoms anymore. It is counter-reproductive.

"You look, nice," I commented.

"I was in a hurry," she smiled shyly. "I threw on the first things I could find."

"Really?" I questioned. She looked away and blushed.

"No," she confessed. "I'm so sorry, but,” she looked at me, clearly embarrassed. "Do you want me to go back home?"

"No," I said after some thought. "But I want you to know you are forgoing your hug."

"Damn

it!" she snapped her fingers. She was succeeding at looking adorable.

Unfortunately for her, things that aroused me also scared me. This was

the flipside of my life. Women trying to control me physically or

verbally caused a fear reaction.

Looking

at a woman and feeling aroused made me feel ashamed. During my rapes I

had ejaculated again and again. I told myself if I could stop getting

erections it would end. After the first time, my counselor explained to

me that this wasn't true. I was drugged. I couldn't help myself. The

body responds a certain way to stimuli, etc., etc.

Knowing

rationally that it wasn't my fault didn't make the guilt go away. The

diabolic bonus to this was the lust or rage reaction I had to arousal.

Sex had been used to render me powerless. There was this deep urge to

recapture that sense of control by taking my shame and anger out on a

woman. Luckily for me, and the female population on campus, the second

time around I had coping mechanisms.

I

could focus on the woman before me and repress flashbacks interposing

the faces of my attackers on them. My motivation wasn't to save their

lives, altruism doesn't keep you going. I did it because the alternative

was institutionalization; I was struggling to survive. I couldn't make

Kuiko understand this.

Every

instinct told her to look sexy. Society reinforced that. Those clothes

she was almost wearing weren't handmade after all. I doubted she body

sculpted herself so intensely solely to enjoy the view in the mirror and

the accolades of her peers. Had she understood the emotional hell-storm

I was going through I doubt she would have been trying to be so cute

and enticing.

Again,

I had to concentrate and accept that this wasn't her fault. Kuiko was

giving me space and running interference with the few other women around

the gym. I was able to control myself and after a few minutes slipped

into a neutral mental state as my mind turned inward. It let me shed

some of the accumulated stress of the day.

"What's it like?" Kuiko asked gently as we headed back to her place.

"What?" I responded cautiously.

"Being

so alone," she looked up at me. "I have a dozen girl-pals I can talk to

about, stuff, but you don't really have anyone, do you?"

"Do you mean do I ever have guys I get together with and talk to?" I sought clarification.

"Yes, do you?" she answered.

"We don't talk about it, Kuiko," I sighed. "Sure guys can talk over all sorts of nebulas shit on-line or over the phone."

"Real

stuff?" I looked back. "No. It could be used against us. It is

horrifyingly easy to be accused of being an MRA terrorist. If a man

sounds dissatisfied, he could be put under surveillance or picked up, so

we don't talk," I lied. I couldn't divulge to any woman the furtive

communications guys had.

"But you went off at your place," Kuiko pointed out.

"Didn't I sound crazy?" I suggested. Kuiko was clearly searching for the least hurtful words.

"A

little. You made sense, but you were, stressed," she smiled weakly. "I

have to admit I've never thought about what one of my dates has gone

through before hooking up with me." The follow-up question was

uncomfortably awkward but socially required.

"Ever had an attachment before?" I mumbled. I really didn't want to know.

"No,"

she groaned. "I suck at sex, I mean, I'm not very good at sex." I so,

God, didn't want to go there. I was still trying to figure out if she

was lying to me when she added. "I'm almost jealous of your Bethany. She

may be a total bitch, but at least she must have known what she was

doing to keep you around."

"You could visit a professional," I suggested. I meant a male or female prostitute.

"Do you know how much one of those costs?" she wailed. "I can't afford it."

"A female one has to be cheaper," I said hopefully.

"I don't need to suck another dildo," she sniffled. "Trust me. That does not teach you how to give a blowjob."

Oh,

kay. Yet another piece of worldly knowledge I didn't need to know. My

dilemma boiled down to what would I sacrifice to stay alive and free?

Could I use Kuiko as human shielding without any reciprocity? That would

make me as bad as them.

"Kuiko, if I ever, ever, get over my problems, I could help you with that," I muttered.

"I, oh, I'm not asking you to," she sputtered.

"That's why I'm offering," I replied. "If you were pressuring me, I would be incapable of speech."

"In that case, thank you," she beamed happiness. "Can I hug you?"

"I think we discussed how your clothing precludes that," I gently teased.

"But these shorts make my ass look nice, don't they?" she presented her rearview.

"That

being one of the problems," I verified. She pouted then grinned. At

least she didn't roll up her tiny top and show me her nipples. That

would have been retched. As it was, she behaved. I dropped her off

before getting back to my place and preparing for my date with Bethany.

My

date with Bethany started off poorly before it even got off the ground.

Detective Kristi called to inform me she couldn't find a private

attorney who would take on my case, sight unseen. She had finally called

the Public Defender's office to get someone for me. Beggars couldn't be

choosers, or so I had been told.

The

restaurant was as Ms. Silverhorn described, well-lit and decently

populated. Upon entering, I was the third guy in the establishment. I

could have done without that observation as well as Bethany standing up

from 'our' table, smiling and waving me over. I had this insane impulse

to turn and run away. In hindsight, it wasn't so insane considering how

our last date had gone.

There

were no whistles or cat-calls. It was a quality establishment, but that

didn't stop them from looking and whispering to their female

companions. I wanted to wear a burka while Bethany reveled in the

attention I was getting. At the five foot mark, she moved forward to hug

me. I couldn't help myself; I recoiled.

"Don't

be like that," Bethany scolded me. "You invited me to dinner to

apologize, remember?" In her perversion of reality that might have been

the case, but in the world I lived in, she was my tormentor and

betrayer. If I was going to apologize for anything it was for not

reaching out and strangling her on the spot.

There

were a dozen things I could do. Even ignoring the violent ones, I could

still cause a scene and humiliate her, ignore her, or even hit on

another woman (if my courage held out). I was having to pump sunlight

down into the hole I had dug during the day but I opted to not dig it

deeper at that moment.

"Bethany, I'm trying," I sighed. "This is a lot for me to deal with, us parting on such, unstable terms."

"Okay,"

she graciously allowed. She resumed her seat and I took mine. She

automatically reached her hand halfway across the table. There was a

time when we held hands all the time.

We

would feed each other too. If I did that now, I would stab her in the

eye. My resolve was barely limping along but I summoned up enough energy

to put my hand in hers.

"Do you miss the way we used to be?" she mused.

"I think about it a lot," I said. Usually in things called nightmares.

"Do you miss the sex?" she leered. My stomach lurched.

"I'm sure you've had better since then," I gulped. Her eyes sparkled with desire.

"No,"

she purred. "No I haven't. We had real passion, Israel. The way you

would look at me after we made love, the way our eyes met and how you

ran your hands through my hair."

'Then you shouldn't have thrown me to the wolves, you stupid cow,' I inwardly screamed.

"Why

did you share me with your sorority sisters?" I asked instead. I had

never asked that before. I never had the guts to face her. No rush of

bravery had altered that. My back had been shoved against the wall.

"It

is a girl-thing," she grinned playfully. "You wouldn't understand." I

wonder if she realized how lame that sounded. I wouldn't understand?

Hell no, I wouldn't understand.

"Try me," I whispered.

"I loved being with you, Israel, but I have to live with those girls too," she began.

"Being

in a sorority is a sisterhood. We agree to help one another through

thick and thin. That means we share in our good fortune as well," she

explained. "You were clearly superior to the cock the rest were getting

so they voted for me to bring you over. I have to admit, you did your

job well. Eighteen of the girls became pregnant. That was amazing."

That was insane. That had to be total bullshit.

"No," I moaned.

"Oh yeah," Bethany smiled. "All those fertility drugs plus your stamina succeeded beyond our wildest expectations."

"No," I repeated with greater hopelessness. "Wait, fertility drugs take weeks to work."

"Well

duh," she giggled. "That's why I held off so long in bringing you over.

We wanted to be ready." I had been used as a stud. Corralled, fattened

and led to slaughter. I almost missed what she said next.

"You have three sons, Israel," Bethany continued. I'm sure the blood must have drained from my face.

"Three,

did any of them live?" I muttered. I didn't know if I was praying more

for them to be dead than alive. Knowing the monsters they would be with,

"All

three lived," she lilted. "Technically you had five, but three of them

lived and that is awesome." The first question that blew through my mind

was 'why am I not in a lab?' My sons' survival rate was beyond

phenomenal, 60% versus the normal 10%. It probably couldn't end the

decline of my gender but it could slow down the rate, give humanity more

time to find a cure.

"You covered that all up?" I asked quietly. Did I even want to know where my dead sons were buried?

"First

we were surprised, then we couldn't figure out why and we couldn't

access your records without raising too many red flags," she informed

me.

"Had

we informed the government, we'd have lost you," she squeezed my hand.

Even with the infinitesimal chance that I might have some clue to the

cure for the Gender Plague, the sorority decided to keep that under

wraps. Unholy hell, they were worse monsters than I thought.

"You didn't have my child, did you?" I worried.

"No,"

she moaned sensually. "God knows you and I tried, and tried." After a

short pause, "I miss you Israel. I was really upset that you dumped me.

Sure, I got more guys, but they were, so boring and vanilla compared to

you. Let's go back to my place and fuck." Who said romance was dead?

If

she had tried to drag me to a taxi I would have slammed my cock in the

car door. I figured I could do it two or three times before Bethany and

the cab driver could stop me.

"I

think we are moving a little too fast," I evaded. "I'm not like I was

with you in college. In fact, since you I've never had an attachment."

"That's

sweet," she stroked my palm with her fingers. "We don't have to go

straight to an attachment tonight. We can wait until the second or third

date. Can't we still have sex?"

"Honestly,

I've only gone for faceless encounters after that weekend. It was

something I doubted I could repeat," I gulped. I needed something else,

some lie to peddle.

"I'm

still adjusting to us working so close together," I added. "I not ready

to return to a sexual relationship yet. I hope you can wait." Total

lie. I was hoping for the end of the world so I wouldn't have to have

sex with her.

"Hmmm," she regarded me cat-like. "Are you planning to sex up someone else while I wait?"

"No, definitely not," I all but shouted to the rafters.

"Not that nasty old cop?" Bethany teased.

"I'm

not even sure how to compare the two of you," I smiled weakly. I was

fading fast, but I was a freaking PR guy, after all, and I could still

bail myself out a little longer.

To be continued

By FinalStand for Literotica

A man in the world, were only a few males remain.

Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. 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 unholstered 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 wrong.

I attributed several factors that allowed me to reach a corner seat unmolested. Monday morning fatigue aided me but several years of practice in blending in was the key. The first girl asked me for my bracelet half way down the line.

"21? You must be fresh out of college," she chortled. "Did you have fun in school?"

"I'm looking forward to making a paycheck," I replied.

Her name was Debra and she was nice enough. She hadn't had a boyfriend in four years (hint, hint), worked at a dry cleaners and lived right across the street from my condo. She was a little put out that I wouldn't give her my numbers or address but wasn't an ass about it. She also gave me an interesting tidbit of information.

Six months ago there had been twelve guys in the neighborhood. Seven had up and gotten married, two had transferred out and two had simply vanished. The marriages were above the average and the disappearances were disturbing. The only other guy was Steve, a widower, who was on 'medication' to help in 'reconnect' and deal with his grief.

I felt for Steve. He may have been married before the Gender Plague wiped out 95% of the men on earth over a ten year period way before I was born. It still killed 9 out of 10 male births within the first year. In the North American sphere they had responded with the gender laws. In other countries, where things were far more draconian, they had a problem with 'male flight.’

It made me shudder to think I lived in a 'good' place. It wasn't worth contemplating how much worse things would get if they tightened up on the male discrimination laws. With those happy thoughts I entered City Hall, got thoroughly searched, patted down and felt up, all in the name of making sure I wasn't a MRA (Male Retribution Army) terrorist.

My boss, Francesca Silverhorn, located me before they upped my relationship status. I had to wonder if women went through this when the guards were men. I almost missed Ms. Silverhorn laying out my duties. I was to proofread speeches, give the occasional briefing and stand on stage in the Mayor's entourage.

I thanked her for the job opportunity and she laughed at me.

"Look handsome and only say what we tell you to say," she instructed me. "Oh, and only date pretty girls, you will be in the public eye from here on out." Wow, the superficiality of that statement was depressing.

I had little hope of meeting a nice girl I could believe in. Now she had to be up to a certain physical standard as well. Things kept getting better. I was introduced to the staff and instantly re-introduced to my old or last girlfriend, the one who took me to her sorority party. I jerked to a halt while she leered at me. I had avoided her like the plague since that weekend three years ago.

I didn't have time to dwell on my sudden proximity to this monster for too long because at the end of my tour was a quick face-to-face with the Mayor's Chief of Staff. Isobel Diaz looked me up and down.

"Do you have a nice package?" she snapped off.

"What?" I gasped.

"Dong, schlong, dick, rod, you know, your man-meat, is it big?" she clarified. I looked for help from Francesca but she was busy looking out the window.

"I supposed so," I sighed. "A bit over seven inches long and pretty thick, or so I've been told."

"Pull it out," she directed. "Pull it out and jack off." I had to wonder where the fuck this was coming from, but I knew my position was hopeless. If I lost this job, I'd be on public assistance until I managed to get whatever position I could with this black mark on my record. I pulled it out and began wanking.

For a minute, my shame and fear stopped me from getting anywhere. To make matters worse, I thought I was going through all this only to lose my job anyway.

"Chen, come in here," Isobel called over her intercom. Seconds later, her P A came in the room.

"Ms. Chen, do you feel like sucking this man off?" Isobel asked. "He's made some boasts and it would be a pity if he lost his job over an unauthorized lie."

Ms. Chen was Chinese around 5 foot 6, with nice curves and a mischievous smile.

"Bracelet," she ordered. She scanned me. "Unattached? Do you play around much?"

"I don't, hardly, play around much," I stammered. "I showered if that matters." Ms. Chen responded by getting on her knees before me and took over my stroking duties. Her question had been rhetorical. At the very least, she knew I was sexless so far this cycle. That was a good indicator that I didn't play the field. Ms. Chen cooed softly to ease my discomfort over the whole situation.

A few strokes with her firm, warm hand plus a few kisses and my cock was roaring to life. Being so responsive to stimulation was the downside of my abstinence strategy. Her lips engulfed my head with agonizing slowness. A few quick bobs and she then began licking my shaft, top to bottom. I was fully aroused and starting to ache.

"That's enough. It seems Mr. Jensen is not a braggart," Ms. Diaz noted.

"You can go now, Ms. Chen," she stated. Ms. Chen pouted at her boss. "I'm sure you can finish that up on your own time." Ms. Chen gave my shlong a final kiss, rose, turned and left.

"Francesca, make sure he wears tighter pants. If we have some bad news to deliver, I want him to rub himself up and be on stage as a distraction," Ms. Diaz talked like I wasn't there.

I put my cock back in my pants as Ms. Silverhorn led me away. We walked in silence until we exited the Chief of Staff's offices.

"In the old days, the guys used to tell the young female interns to unbutton two more buttons on their blouse and wear push-up bras," Francesca informed me.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I looked into her eyes.

"No but hopefully you will take some strength that other people went through that kind of thing and survived," she said.

"I only want to do a good job, go home at the end of the day and get paid," I replied.

"That's not very ambitious," she noted. "You need to be more aggressive in my office."

"Okay," then after a second. "Do I let all the women molest me or only the important ones?"

"I do not expect you to be a whore, Mr. Jensen," she snorted. "I do not approve of Ms. Diaz's action but her boss is the one currently in the big chair so we do what we must."

I was the tenth employee in the Public Affairs office and the only guy. Two were married; the rest were single women. In the next office group there was a guy in the Budget office and he stopped by to see the 'competition.’

"Hi, I'm Troy Berry," he popped into my cubicle.

"Ah, hello. I'm Israel Jensen," I responded.

"So what do you think of your work environment?" I leaned against one of my walls.

"It has been an hour," I reminded him. "I haven't really formed an opinion yet."

"Oh, come on," Troy chuckled. "All the hot babes here, Man, I tell you, and I've banged them all at least twice."

"Well, good for you," I muttered. "I won't get in your way." That seemed to catch him off guard.

"Are you gay?" he wondered.

"No," I sighed. "I do my civic duty and I don't get attached."

"You make it sound like it's no fun," Troy leered. "You've got to spank that ass, slap that cunt, fuck um deep and long. Make the bitches squeal."

It wasn't lost on me that he was speaking loud enough to be overheard.

"I'm glad you are so proficient," I tried to smile. "That will be less trouble for me."

"Troy," Ms. Silverhorn appeared at my side. "Don't you have a job to do?"

"Uh, yes Ms. Silverhorn," he gulped and fled.

"Don't let him bother you, Israel," she looked down at me. "Troy is a walking advertisement on why it is better for a girl to stay home with her vibrator than date every asshole that comes around."

"Okay, thank you?" I gazed back up.

"I have forwarded you series of past speeches I want you to go over today to get a feel for our style," she informed me. "I was simply going to call you but I saw Troy skulking around and decided to drive him off."

"I'll get right on this," I nodded.

"If you have any questions, see Ms. Freemont," Francesca told me. "She's agreed to help train you. I understand you two went to school together." I nodded because the alternative was to vomit.

I buried my head into my work, going over all the Mayor's speeches for the past year. I would have rather chewed off my own arm than approach Bethany Fremont about anything. Unfortunately, she had no trouble approaching me.

"Hey, Israel," she purred after sneaking up on me. I jumped out of my chair and backed as far away in my cubicle as possible.

"Some of the girls and I are heading out for lunch," she smiled sweetly. "We want you to come along." I stared at her, trapped between fear and rage. "Oh come on now, I forgave you for dumping me after we made you such a popular man on campus."

"Popular?" I nearly choked. "Is that what you think?"

"Of course," she grinned wickedly. "You got to screw a whole sorority in one weekend. I know for a fact that plenty of girls went after you. Did you no longer have time for me?"

"I can't go out today," I groaned. "I have work to catch up on."

"Oh, come on," she teased. "You look like you need to unwind."

"No," I whispered after a moment to gather my courage. She reached for my arm casually but I flinched away. Bethany seemed confused and a bit offended.

"You are acting weird, Israel," she accused me. "I thought you would be more appreciative that I helped you get this job."

"I, I need to get back to work," I muttered. I pulled my chair around and resumed my work station with my back to her. It was another offense in an endless series of humilations and assaults on my ego. Had I earned this job on my own, or was this another round of luring me in and betraying my dreams of a better life? I found it impossible that Bethany would do me a favor out of the goodness of her heart, she didn't have one.

"We'll talk later," Bethany still sounded confused. She patted me on the shoulder then strode away. I didn't break down into trembling fits until she was out of sight.

Several times after lunch, Bethany came by to check on me. She wasn't alone, either, I believed that all my co-workers came by to touch base with me. At four, Francesca informed me she wanted to finish going over the old speeches and reminded me about the need to 'update' my clothing.

At five, the majority of my female co-workers left for where ever. Bethany was hanging around and I began to get worried because Bethany had acted without consequence for the law before. I wasn't sure why it worried me that Bethany was hanging around. I knew I had no desire to be alone with the woman who had betrayed me so badly. There was only one thing I could do.

I picked up the phone. "Hello, Detective Kristi," I said when she answered. "It is Israel Jensen."

"I recognize your voice," she told me. "What's up?"

"Well, you said you wanted to be my friend and I need a favor," I blathered.

"Sure, okay, calm down," she became more alert. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm at work at City Hall and, well, umm, could you come pick me up?" I pleaded. "I'm on the fifth floor, room 5 0 3." I was gambling that, like most police, Angel had her own car.

"Give me thirty minutes," she responded. Oh, thank God I prayed silently.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised.

I sweated every one of the thirty minutes I waited to be picked up. Bethany remained at her station the entire time and I was beginning to feel paranoid by the time Angel arrived. She opened the door then knocked, cop style.

"Israel, I'm here," she called out. Bethany and I stood up simultaneously.

"Here," I sung out. I gathered my things and headed her way. Bethany intercepted me before I made it to the door.

"Israel, who is this?" she stopped me. She was clearly annoyed at Angel's unexpected intervention. Bethany positioned herself so that I would have to maneuver around her to exit the room.

"I'm Detective Angel Kristi," my pseudo-friend intervened. "I'm his ride home," Angel smiled sweetly.

"Oh, I didn't know Israel was attached," Bethany smiled back.

"Maybe there's a reason you don't know," Angel answered without answering.

"Now that Israel is working with us, he can only date the 'right' people," Bethany bit back.

"Thanks for the update, who are you anyway?" Angel questioned snidely.

"Bethany Fremont," Bethany replied with false sweetness. "Israel and I dated in college."

"Funny," Angel gave her own wicked grin, "he's never mentioned you in all the time I've known him." Angel didn't bring up the fact that she'd only met me 24 hours ago.

"I'm not attached," I jumped in. "We live in the same complex, that's all." Lying about an attachment was a criminal offense, right up there with a girl lying about having sex with a male when she hadn't.

"We are friends," Angel stated.

"Well, he's only in the city because I got him his job here," she hesitated. "With the Mayor."

"Good for you," Angel gave a patently false smile. "Israel, are you ready to go?"

"You bet," I exhaled with some relief. I slipped past Bethany and Angel and moved quickly to the elevator.

To Angel's credit, she kept quiet for the entire trip home. Only when we got to the parking garage did I realize I had forgotten a very important mission in my panic. I headed out instead of for the stairs to the apartments.

"Where are you going?" she inquired.

"Ugh, they are making me buy some new clothes for work," I responded.

"Pants not tight enough?" she teased. I sighed and lowered my head.

"Yeah," I groaned.

"Don't worry about it," she came to my side. "I have a buddy working Sex Crimes. That sort of harassment happens all the time."

"Technically they can't make you wear those kind of clothes. On the other hand I don't think there is an Assistant District Attorney in the city that would prosecute on it, especially not the Mayor's Chief of Staff," Angel informed me.

"How did you know it was the Chief of Staff?" I looked over to her.

"Ha," Angel laughed. "That woman is a notorious man-eater. She both uses them personally and uses them to advance her agendas."

"Oh, God," I groaned.

"Israel, you do understand that some men use women's sexual appetites to advance their own careers," she countered. "This doesn't have to be one-sided."

"Okay," I said softly.

"Cheer up," Angel hesitated to touch me. "At least you are good-looking. You have options that ugly guys don't have. Women care about what happens to you."

"Maybe if I was ugly they would leave me alone," I pointed out.

"You have a cock," she joked. "Women will never leave you alone." That didn't make me feel better, quite the opposite. "I'll take you downtown," she offered. As we pulled back out onto the street, all the good men's clothing boutiques were in the city center, Angel cleared her throat.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on here?" she requested.

"I was under the impression you had volunteered to go clothes shopping with me," I answered.

"Why did you have me pick you up at work? Last night you couldn't wait to get me out of your apartment," she pointed out.

"I had a panic attack," I lied.

"Bullshit, Israel," Angel murmured. "If you don't want to tell me, don't tell me. Don't lie to me, though. Understood?"

"Understood," I looked down at my lap.

"Let's start again: why did you call me?" she repeated. While she had given me the option of saying nothing, I had the feeling I would need Angel on my side again before too long.

"That girl in college I told you about last night, the one I trusted. You met her when you picked me up today," I explained.

"Shit," Angel muttered.

"Yeah," I sighed. "She thinks she helped me get my job here. That's just fucked up."

"She thinks she did me a big favor in college too. She thinks I dumped her because I had become so popular, but she's willing to give me a second chance," I shuddered.

"I'm not sure what I can do for you," she spared me a sympathetic look. "The Mayor's Office is a bit above my pay grade."

"I've already asked too much of you," I smiled sadly. "I'll take it from here on out. She ambushed me today, but I'll be ready for her tomorrow."

"There you go," Angel encouraged me. "Keep fighting."

"That's right," I joked. "Who do I go to about sexual harassment?"

"The Internal Review office of the Civilian Affairs Agency, You know that would be career suicide," she advised me. I had been in a similar situation before. I know that. "You would have nothing to back you up and the Mayor's Office doesn't want the scandal that such a complaint would cause. They would bury it."

"Jeesh, and they wonder why the male suicide rate is so high," I muttered.

"Don't go down that road, Israel," Angel cautioned me. If she really thought I would try to kill myself, she would have to turn me in. A woman throwing herself off a building was fifteen seconds on the local news. A man trying to end his earthly suffering was a Crime Against Humanity and resulted in a permanent suspension of his civil rights.

The conversation sort of petered out after that. Thankfully the clothing store was mostly frequented by my fellow males and the occasional married couple. My salesman was an actual man and after I told him where I worked he knew exactly what to do. He selected pants that were tight, real tight, and 'I'm afraid to bend over in these things.’ I bought five and put them on my credit card because I certainly couldn't afford them.

"You are in Public Relations," Angel tried to put the best face on things. "You have to expect things like this from time to time."

"Oh, when you made detective did they have you drop your pants and finger-fuck you?" I asked in a totally deadpan tone.

"Being bitter isn't going to help," she advised.

"Bitter is about all I have left," I confided. "I'm in PR because I'm a writer, or so I thought. I'm a good writer, too. Why is it no one seems to give a crap about that?"

"Give it time," she patted my knee. "You'll prove yourself to them. You only have to hang in there until they figure that out."

"If you say so," I deflected any of my true emotions on the subject. "When I was little, I wanted to be a cop."

"Men can't be cops," Angel smiled at me. "It is too dangerous. It's the same reason you can't be a fireman or in the military. We can't afford to risk you guys. If in vitro still worked, things might be different. "It's a shame there hasn't been a successful artificial birth in twenty years."

"Yay, lucky me. Any profession that allows me to defend myself I'm barred from," I noted sarcastically.

"You have a baseball bat," Angel pointed out.

"Are you going to take that away from me?" I looked her over.

"No, you are allowed athletic equipment," she tried to lighten the mood. It didn't do too much for me because I realized I had mandated gym time coming up. The government wanted us men to be fit and trim. No bad foods, plenty of exercise and nothing toxic to our systems. It was all for our own good, of course.

After dropping me back at the complex, Angel returned to work to finish her 3pm to 11pm shift at the Metro North Station. First, I stalked about my apartment to make sure no one had broken in or was sticking around. Yes, I know that's paranoid. I checked my system notices and discovered I had the 8 to 9 slot at the gym. I hadn't missed it but I didn't have too much time.

I couldn't afford to pay the small fine I would have been assessed for missing it, things were so tight. I had exhausted my funds finishing up my college education free of sexual degradation. I believed that I could get by on exceptional grades alone. I was blessed in that my hour was prime TV time and there was only one woman in the place. She did keep looking my way but didn't come over, for which I was grateful. My day seemed to be ending quietly until the doorbell rang at 12:30, again.

This time I answered it, baseball bat in hand. It was Angel. I reluctantly let her in.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she stepped in.

"I," I wanted to tell her I had been asleep but that was pointless and a bit rude. Instead I extended a hand toward her. She looked at it, smiled slightly then shook it.

"Thank you for today," I told her.

"You are welcome, Israel," she grinned. "I'm glad you called."

"Why is that?" I wondered.

"You were in a jam and you stepped outside your shell to ask for help," Angel smirked. "I call that progress."

"I thought it would have been a better indicator of how freaked out I was," I countered.

"I'm a professional," she sighed. "I could tell you were in distress, not merely making an excuse to spend time with me."

"On that note, you can go now Detective Angel Kristi," I frowned. I wasn't pissed and she knew it. She knew I was tired too.

The next morning a different girl sat down with me on the subway. She chatted away despite my obvious attempts to avoid conversation. Frustrated, I stood up, looked around and found Debra. I wedged myself through my fellow commuters, with the obligatory groping, until I was standing at her side. She smiled when she saw I was stopping by her.

"Debra, do you want to hook-up?" I whispered in her ear. Debra jolted in surprise.

"Okay, sure, where, when?" she babbled. I had to calm her down so as to not attract attention.

"I get off at the next stop," I outlined. "We'll go into the Men's room and do it in a stall."

For me, it was always like this, as random a hook-up as possible. I wouldn't go to her place because I feared being at her mercy. I wouldn't take them to my place because I didn't want them to know where I lived. Sure, I would have to have to see Debra again on the subway. What made her attractive to me was she could take the hint to leave me alone unlike the girl I had left my seat to escape.

I certainly wasn't going to do it with anyone at work, definitely not with Bethany. With all the new pressures on my life, I had to get my social sexual obligation out of the way. I was afraid, filled with self-loathing and angry. I hated myself for engaging in sex. I hated that I was so screwed up inside that I'd treat yet another woman like a hash mark on the record of my sexual history. I hated the system that wouldn't leave me in peace and give me time to heal.

I focused my mind. I kept telling myself that Debra had never wronged me. She was kind, a bit shy but courageous enough to confront me yesterday and sexually inviting without being threatening. Had the situation, I might have actually liked her. The problem was I had my back to a wall and no way out, again.

"Ah, okay," she sounded a bit disappointed.

"I'll make it worth your while," I assured her softly. As we got off the train, Debra was plenty wound up. Debra was already plenty worked up. Seeing the women looking at us, and knowing what we were about to do, ignited the voyeur in her. In our society where so many women going without sex, it gave her a vicarious thrill to know she wasn't going to be one of them and now she would be the one others were jealous of.

We stumbled into the first stall and began fumbling with our clothes. Debra was clearly frightened and unsure so I slowed things down and started kissing her. In a World where women had so much power and control, a man's sole point of leverage was to show no interest in a woman. If a women couldn't entice a man, he could go elsewhere easily.

Debra was worried that if she wasn't good enough I wouldn't come back for more. Had she read the reviews of my sexual contacts, she might have known how unlikely a report performance was. Debra wasn't great looking and she wasn't crawling all over me so I wasn't completely hating the experience.

I always felt that pretty girls felt entitled to take control which pissed me off. Bethany was & is downright beautiful. Women who were physically aggressive pushed all the wrong buttons in me, invoking nightmares from college. I did this because I had to do this and I had to get her verification that we'd done it. Yes, I felt like a whore. I always did.

I sat Debra on the toilet and worked off her shoes then pants and panties. The second her calves went on my shoulder she giggled. She knew what was about to happen. The first kisses were on her thighs and pubic hair.

"Oh yes," she purred. "I like it, I like it."

In a perfect world I wouldn't have found this so frightening and Debra would have had more time. As it was, it must have been four years for her as she came inside of three minutes. I gave her a few seconds to recover before dropping my pants lining up. I rubbed it up and down, got good and wet then began to push it in.

Again, I took it easy on her. Despite what Angel believed, I didn't hate all women, or even fear them. I feared what they could do to me and get away with. Debra's moans let me know I was doing an admirable job. If she worried about my lack of passion, she didn't show it. Her legs locked me in and she pulled me into a prolonged kiss.

Then I let out a grunt & Debra squealed. She wove her arms around my waist and held me tight. Even after I finished, she held me tight for a minute.

"Thank you," she sighed happily.

"It was nice," I lied. It was not terribly bad; it was simply something I didn't want to do.

We began to dress in the tight confines of the stall. I kept flashing her looks, but she wasn't getting the message. I despaired of actually having to ask her to scan my bracelet when she finally clued in.

"Oh, let me get that for you," she blushed. She scanned me with her phone and I was affirmed as a law-abiding citizen, until the end of the next 28 day cycle anyway.

I walked into my office with a few minutes to spare. During my obligatory pat-down I found myself wondering what they would do if I actually had a bomb. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to ask the guards that particular question. They weren't known for their sense of humor. I had no sooner put my ass in my chair than Bethany showed up behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"You're late," she teased. I looked at my phone.

"I'm thirteen minutes early," I corrected her.

"During training, you are supposed to show up thirty minutes early," she rubbed my shoulders.

"I'll be on time tomorrow," I sighed. What was I going to do; go crying to my boss that Bethany was being mean to me by giving me an unasked for shoulder massage?

"Okay," she purred. "You have something in your Inbox. You really should learn to play nice."

I opened the file with trepidation and it was warranted. It was a large video file, it was me at the sorority party, and it had been forwarded to nearly fifty names besides me. I had to think about this for a second. In college, I had curled up into a ball and nearly died.

I wasn't going to do that this time.

I was trembling as I hit the Reply All tab. 'To clarify this file: Bethany Fremont invited me out on a date during my freshman year. She wanted to stop by her sorority and show me off to her gal pals, or so she led me to believe. I was force fed pills and liquor; I was sodomized and had my mouth and cock violated; I was tied up, beaten, whipped and choked and then forced to relive the experience by having Bethany post this video all over campus,' I wrote.

'Now she is bringing this up to torture me all over again because I wouldn't talk to her yesterday. If you like this video you are one sick puppy and I hope I never have to deal with you. Thank you for your time and consideration. Israel Jensen.' I hit Send button and started work.

Five minutes later, Bethany came storming back to my desk.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she seethed as she spun my chair to face her.

"You will have to clarify that question and put it into context," I stared blankly at her.

"That crap you posted about me," she growled.

"Do you mean the truth about what really happened that weekend?" I stated.

"You are making that shit up!" she spat at me. Just then my phone rang. Ms. Silverhorn wanted to see me and Ms. Fremont in her office now. Bethany was less than pleased.

"Who wants to tell me what's going on here?" Ms. Silverhorn addressed us both coldly.

"Israel went with me to a party, got wild and now has after-party regrets that he was so out of control," Bethany began.

"Well, Mr. Jensen," Francesca turned to me.

"Does it matter?" I met her gaze.

"It does to me," she answered.

"I stand by my statement then," I said. "It happened the way I say it happened."

"That's crap," Bethany shot off. "You have no proof that anything like that happened." She was right. The odds of me ever getting the unedited version of that sex tape were poor. It was the word of forty-one women versus one male. She didn't know I had one card left to play.

"There is something I never told you about, Bethany," I lowered my head.

"See, I was raped when I was sixteen and that is in the official record," I took a deep breath. "I spent over a year in recovery and I'm pretty sure my shrink will verify that I would never willingly be in the situation you claim I was in. See, I was kept chained in a basement for several months, I'd never willing be bound."

"You were the victim of the Aurora Slasher," Silverhorn whispered. I nodded. They had kept my name out of the papers because I was a minor. "You are the one who lived."

"I didn't know," Bethany sounded shocked. "You never said anything."

"I was putting that part of my life behind me. In one weekend you totally fucked that up. You single handedly put me back in that basement, fuck you very much," I told her bitterly.

Bethany reached out for me, suddenly, all compassionate and concerned. I flinched away.

"You don't get to touch me anymore," I snapped. I wanted to threaten her, to tell her that I'd punch her if she touched me again but threatening Bethany would only land me in more trouble.

"Ms. Fremont, you should leave now," Francesca said.

"Are you still going to be able to work here?" Francesca inquired after Bethany left.

"I believe so," I affirmed. "As long as I'm not reliving that video all the time."

"Fair enough," Francesca. "The Mayor has a press conference in an hour and Mr. Diaz wants you on stage. It seems a Federal Grant fell through so we are going to have to float some bonds to finish one of her pet projects. Look relaxed, don't smile too much and don't say a word."

"I guess I should be happy I get to keep my clothes on," I responded. Silverhorn snorted.

"I told you to be more aggressive not more submissive. Be careful you don't become too aggressive though," she cautioned me. "Neither one works for me." I nodded, left her office and made my way back to my desk. At the appropriate time, Ms. Silverhorn took me to the main floor atrium, told me where to stand and there I stood until the Mayor showed up to do her thing.

The Mayor told the press corps the double whammy that the city wasn't getting federal funds and that taxes were going up because of it. The first two follow-up questions were routine. The third one wasn't.

"Madam Mayor, seventeen young males between the ages of eighteen and to twenty-five have vanished in the past two months," the journalist queried. "What are the police doing about it?"

"I'm sure if this becomes an issue, the Police Commissioner will let me know," the Mayor recovered quickly. "Men are free to move around the country, after all," she laughed.

"Oh, of course," the female journalist smiled wickedly. "I was curious if you were 'stocking up'," she looked my way.

"His resource is that of an employee of our PR department and that's all," the Mayor gave a patent political smile but the journalist wouldn't leave it alone.

"How do you feel?" she addressed me. This was not what I wanted. I could literally hear the gears grinding from the politicians to my left. Ms. Diaz whispered my name to the Mayor.

"Mr. Jensen, do you have anything to say on the matter?" the Mayor addressed me. Oh fuck.

"I am aware that there have been a few men who have left abruptly," I began as I stepped up. I could hear Ms. Diaz start to grind her teeth. "I feel perfectly safe in the city."

"I live alone, but have plenty of neighbors. I ride the metro and I shop downtown in the evening. I have the utmost confidence in the city's administration to keep the men of this city safe and informed. Thank you," and I stepped back to my original spot. I didn't look around to see the Mayor's or Ms. Diaz's reactions to my little statement.

I kept my eyes forward. I noted the journalist writing something. The questions went on, nothing came back to me and I departed as soon as possible. As soon as I stepped into my cubicle, Ms. Silverhorn called me to her office.

"You did okay," she said the moment I walked into her office.

"I had two semesters of public speaking and third in debate," I replied.

"I'm glad you were up for it, considering your day," she noted.

"Were you going to let me go?" I asked. She studied me a second.

"I was considering it," she conceded. "I don't need the drama between you and Ms. Freemont and I don't have time for emotional cripples. This is a high-stress job."

"Ms. Silverhorn, that party happened in the middle of my freshman year," I stated. "I got through that all on my own and graduated at the top of my class. If I was a cripple, I would have given up way before now. As for high stress: consider living on a campus where a female security officer can access your room at any time, day or night. A place where every female student feels entitled to pat my crotch or ass whenever I passed by."

"I wouldn't have taken this job if I didn't think I could do it. Had I known taking a semester off to study to be a male model would help my career advancement, I would have probably looked elsewhere," I continued.

"Aggressive but not too aggressive," Francesca warned me. I found it S O P that she didn't want me to mock the job that made a mockery of me and my education.

"We are preparing a variety of angles for the new bond initiative; you will be proofing Maria's and Patricia's work then forwarding it to me," Francesca informed me. I nodded and headed back for another day on the job. I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I missed Bethany catching up to me as I made my way to the subway.

"Israel, wait up a second," she smiled warmly at me. "We need to talk." I shrugged and kept walking, slowing enough for her to catch up. "Listen, if I knew how fucked up you were, I wouldn't have taken you to the party. I want you to know I'm sorry." I coughed in disbelief.

"Fucked up?" I looked her over. "Fucked up is thinking any guy would want that to happen to him, Bethany."

"I was perfectly well-adjusted until that, party. What is almost as bad as what you and your gal-pals did to me was that you felt justifiably safe in the knowledge you would get away with it," I explained. "I don't want your apology, Bethany. I want you to feel as hopeless and violated as I did, then I want you to die."

She stopped following me after that. I was propositioned eight times on the ride home. It would seem that women are more actively seeking sex after a hard day's work as opposed to early in the morning. I evaded with the skills I had developed in college and got home alone. The second I got home I stripped down to sweats and a t-shirt, went to the refrigerator and spotted the Tupperware container.

I emptied it, snuck out of my apartment, slipped down to Kuiko's and Anique's home and knocked on the door. I placed the Tupperware on the floor and ran home. I felt bad about repaying their hospitality that way. I simply couldn't deal with any more women today. Kuiko came by a few minutes later anyway.

Despite my standing policy, I let her in.

"Are you okay?" she inquired. "I swear it took me five seconds to get to the door but you were already gone."

"Tough day at work," I told her.

"I can imagine. I saw you on the TV," she smiled.

"That was adlibbed," I confessed. "Normally I'm supposed to keep quiet and look pretty."

"Oh, you looked hot alright," she giggled.

"Thank you," I nodded. She was dying to get something off her chest. "Yes?"

"The end of the cycle is coming up and I wondered if you wanted any help with that," she murmured.

"I, uh, took care of that this morning," I informed her. She actually looked hurt.

"Oh," she muttered. "Was it something I said?"

"No, no, I have a problem, doing it with people I know," I explained. "I prefer to keep my sex as anonymous as possible; personal reasons." Now she really looked sad.

"Maybe we can make you reconsider that preference after the party Saturday," she tried to sound positive.

"I'll go online and see how you did. From what Aniqua and I got from your reviews, you're pretty good," she grinned. "The only complaint is that you seem to vanish afterwards. You don't give a girl a second chance."

"I really don't feel comfortable discussing my sex life, Kuiko," I hinted.

"You are a strange one," she snickered, "but I like you. I'll see you later and thanks for returning the bowl. Let me know if you need helping finishing off that tequila."

"I'll do that," I promised her. I avoided drinking at all costs. That bottle of tequila was going to stay pristine for some time. When Kuiko left I breathed a sigh of relief.

Maybe confronting Bethany really had been the right thing to do. It had given me the resolve to allow a woman inside my domicile. Angel didn't count since she let her own self in, and was a cop. My phone rang twice before bed time. One was an unlisted number and the other was Angel. I let them both go to voice mail.

The pattern repeated itself at 12:30. The doorbell rang, I picked up my baseball bat and went to the door and let Detective Kristi in.

"Have a good day?" she asked. I shrugged. In the kitchen, I retrieve two tall glasses of lemonade I had pre-poured from the fridge and brought them back out to the living room.

"Thanks," Angel said as she took one. I motioned for her to sit down. She took one side of the sofa and I took another. This kind of proximity appeared to please her.

"My day was okay," I admitted. "I was almost fired for standing up for myself. I still have a job but now they think I am mental."

"But you stood up for yourself," she edged toward me. "You have to feel good about that."

"I thought I would. When I did, I felt a certain sense of relief," I mused.

"That's good," Angel patted my shoulder. I was trying not to freak out.

"Then came the anger over the fact that I shouldn't have had to put up with this crap in the first place," I looked into Angel's eyes.

"Right when I think we are making progress," she shook her head.

"I'm used to dealing with anger," I continued. "They teach you how in therapy. You find the good things in life and concentrate on them." Angel must have thought I was jerking her around.

"What do you think about to help you cope?" Angel inquired hopefully.

"Did you see the press conference?" I rebounded with instead of an answer.

"Um, yeah, you looked great. You handled that question well," Angel's demeanor became more professional though she hid it well.

"It is no accident that I'm living across the hall from a police detective, is it?" I queried.

She had to think that one over which told me there were things she wasn't supposed to tell me that also implied things were much worse than the public knew or I had suspected.

"So this whole 'be my friend' thing was a scam?" I sighed.

"No," she assured me. "Yes, it is no accident that we live across the hall but I honestly thought you could use a friend."

"I wasn't ordered to stay this close to you," she added.

"How bad is it?" I requested.

"It is nothing to worry about," she replied.

"Fine, get out," I glared at her. "I'd like to say it was nice meeting you but that would be a lie."

"What are you going to do?" Angel pressed me. She wasn't leaving.

"I'm moving out," I told her.

"Where? You don't have the money for a private apartment and it could take months for the Housing Authority to find you another condo," Angel said.

"You misunderstand. I'm going to pack two bags of stuff, throw the rest of my belongings in the trash, clean my place and leave in the morning. I'll take the subway to a trucking distribution point and hitchhike from there," I explained.

"What about your job?" Angel now suddenly seemed concerned.

"It is looking like I'm not a good fit for the job," I replied. "Besides, if I quit I'll avoid any black mark on my record."

"Where are you headed then?" she asked next.

"West, west sounds good. It is still a marginally free country after all," I shrugged.

"You seem to have thought this through," she commented snidely.

"At least I have a plan to keep me safe. You cops have lost, what, seventeen men my age?" I bit back.

"Suddenly you are an expert on taking care of yourself?" she snapped.

"Let me see; you wouldn't even tell me I might be in danger, you won't let me adequately defend myself, you would rather fight charges of sexual assault and harassment than actually enforce the damn laws, and when I dare ask you if I'm in danger, you lie to me," I outlined.

"You don't know what's going on so you are acting out like a child," she glared back.

"If you could do your job we wouldn't be having this discussion," I slammed her.

"You have no clue what's going on," she edged even closer.

"Men don't disappear," I started. "Every twenty-four hours the system sends and receives information from our wrist bands." At least I didn't say shackles.

"If it is disabled, it sends out an emergency alarm," I related. "While no one admits it is a tracking device, it is. All you need to do is tell the band to transmit continuously and I am sure you cops have a code for that. That implies that either the men have found a way to disable their bands or whomever is grabbing them has."

"Oh," Angel blinked. "Okay, you have thought this out a bit."

"Top of my class, remember?" I postulated.

"Thanks for treating me like a moron. I would ask you to leave again, but it is pointless. I have no recourse in dealing with you. You can stay as long as you want, force me to have sex, or whatever else you have in mind."

"Fine, you think that is how it is going to go down," Angel growled. "Strip!" I stood up, took off my shirt and was reaching for my waist band when she stopped me. "Wait, don't," she sighed. "You realize what happened to you was an abnormality, fine, two abnormalities, but life is not going keep being like that for you."

"Angel, you didn't know about what happened to me in college until I told you. That is because the authorities wouldn't report it," I pointed out. "You have no idea how bad it is to be a man. Taking a sexual assault complaint means mandatory counseling and that means a sexual contact exemption from one year to eighteen months. That's bad for reproduction."

"It is not rocket science, Angel. Since the women know they can get away with more, they do more to us. Since men know you won't help them, they stop reporting it," I said. "Guys talk about that when we meet in person. We don't dare put it in writing because you will put us in therapy and give us drugs."

"If men won't stand up and report this, how can you expect us to combat it?" Angel reposed.

"Weren't you the one who told me that sexual harassment on the job was something I had to put up with? Where do you think this shit begins? I had to expose my cock to the Chief of Staff and when I couldn't get hard, she had her assistant come in and blow me," I grumbled.

"That was way out of bounds," Angel muttered.

"Really? What was I going to do? Walk out? I lose my job and get a black mark on my record. I fight, I go to jail for assault," I explained. "Claiming sexual harassment would be pointless because none of the three women in the room would verify my story."

"Even you told me to not make the sex one-sided, but to use it to advance my career," I reminded her. Angel looked ashamed.

"That was wrong," she apologized quietly.

"That's nice. Would you please go? I need to figure out what I will need and what I can throw away," I stated. She didn't get up.

"It won't help," she looked up to me with sad eyes.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"This is nation-wide," Angel confided in me. "There are over 1,900 cases, 24 in this city alone." That's when I sat back down. Even the press was under-estimating the problem.

There were over 8 million men in North America so even two thousand seemed like a small number. The problem was the age, the male population was aging and there were fewer and fewer male births to take their place and now someone was picking off the demographic with the most reproductive potential.

"The missing men are like you, single, unattached, living alone with few friends," she related.

"Why is the public unaware of this? Until today anyway," I asked.

"What happens when the young men across the country begin thinking that it is not safe to go out at night or date women they don't know?" she poised.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. That one slipped out. Guys would be hiding? Sure, they would be hiding because they didn't trust the cops to protect them. And why didn't we trust them?

"You have no clue who is doing this?" I asked instead. Angel had to weigh her response.

"They vanish in different places, depending on the level of security of their dwelling," she informed me.

"I'm no policewoman but I imagine you've already checked for stalkers, phone taps and computer monitoring," I mused.

"No evidence of any victim being followed and their electronic devices are missing as well," she humored me.

"So you are not going to get a break in this case until another male goes missing," I surmised. "Great plan unless you happen to be that guy."

"Aren't you glad I'm right across the hall?" she grinned weakly.

"Actually, I am," I answered. "I want you to understand how fucking useless you all are when I go missing right under your noses."

Angel stared at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"You could get killed," she tried to drive home the danger.

"Not my problem. As long as it isn't by my own hand, it's not against the law," I reasoned.

"You are insane," she gasped.

"Not really and not in a way you can prove," I grinned. "I'm not courting danger. I'm not going to walk the back streets and alleyways at two in the morning. I simply have no faith in you to do your job. Sure, the cops rescued me from the Aurora Slasher, after 87 days and even then, she was one of you, a cop."

"How can you stand being so bitter?" she despaired. Instead of using words, I went to the kitchen and retrieved two items. I came back, sat on the sofa and began applying butter to a long handled spoon with my fingers.

"This was the first thing they sodomized me with, Angel," I held it up to her.

"When those sorority chicks did it, they didn't taunt or ridicule me," I stared at her. "They talked about how their weeks had gone as if what they were doing to me really didn't matter. The thing is, it took me about a week to remember that because my mind was so fucked up. If you want to understand how I can still be bitter, let me ram this up your ass a few hundred times and see how bitter you are."

"Get some damn counseling," she shouted as she slapped the spoon out of my hand. "I'm not asking you to forget it ever happened. I'm asking you to put your life back together and take a little bit of your life back."

"To what end?" I replied.

"What?"

"Why should I? What's the point?" I extrapolated. For a second I thought Angel was coming at me to throttle me. Instead she pressed me back on the sofa with her body. I nearly lost all control I trembled under her weight pressing down and her touch.

"Because someone might really care for you, you idiot," she whispered down at me. I stared at up her with big, fearful eyes. Sure, I could wrestle with her but that was a lose-lose for me. Slowly, Angel pushed up until she was on all fours hovering over me. "Shit, I'm sorry. You are driving me nuts, damn it."

"Please leave," I requested with a calm I did not feel.

"Of course," she responded. "Umm, am I going to, are you going to leave tomorrow morning?"

"No," I groaned. "Did you seriously believe that I would want to be in a truck alone with a woman for any extended period of time? I'm stuck here."

To be continued

By FinalStand for Literotica

Eric and Jackie Confront Paranormal Tits

By DDD Dave. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

The New Queen Arrives

“Donna?” they blurted in unison.

“What are you doing here?” asked Jackie, as she watched Donna take off her hat and throw it onto a nearby chair.

Her

long hair was a magnificent waterfall of curls that framed her face

while reaching to the small of her back. Much more a fiery red than the

last time Donna had been seen in Pointe Place it set off her emerald

green eyes and porcelain complexion.

“I’m

here to take back what is mine, Jackie! My reputation, my boyfriend and

my place as the bustiest woman in Pointe Place!” She declaimed.

“What…

how… you can’t…” spluttered Jackie. As she spoke Donna threw open her

enveloping coat and almost echoing what she had said the last time she

had come in thru Eric’s window she demanded

“Are you ready for these?”

“Holy fuck,” exclaimed Eric while Jackie moaned, “Oh no! No!”

Proudly

standing before them, Donna posed, allowing Jackie and Eric to take in

the transformation that she had undergone. While they gaped at her Donna

ran her hands over her hips encased in a skin tight mini skirt that

showcased her magnificent showgirl legs. Those legs were supported by

tall, five inch heels that lifted her to just over six feet in height.

Donna

ran her hands up and around the breasts which dominated her entire

body. Those titanic, pink clad mounds were the reason for Jackie and

Eric’s outbursts.

A

tent-like pink angora sweater held together by a long line of buttons

was stretched to the point of shredding by breasts so large, so massive

and so amazing that neither Jackie nor Eric could quite bring themselves

to believe what they were seeing. Donna’s rib cage was completely

concealed behind gigantic bowls of flesh that quivered to her slightest

breath and movement. Under the sweater a bra was lifting, pushing her

boobs up to her collar bone, only inches from her chin. Breast flesh met

in a bulging, rounded cleavage that swept toward them for almost a foot

before diving forward under the gigantic sweater.

Donna

smirked at the stunned expressions on Jackie and Eric’s faces. Her

hands continued to slide over the impossibly enormous mounds that

overwhelmed her upper body. From her waist line to just short of her

shoulders her breasts occupied every inch! Protruding beyond the sweep

of her shoulders and projecting far, far in front of her, Donna’s bosom

dwarfed Jackie’s huge 32 Triple L tits! Eric was practically drooling

while Jackie struggled to accept what she was seeing.

“The

last time I was here, Jackie, you mocked my breasts as being too small

to attract Eric. Well, that’s not a problem now, is it Eric?” She

glanced at the goggle eyed young man who could not bring himself to

reply. His cock had snapped to attention upon seeing Donna’s over

stressed sweater and he was busy adjusting himself to get more

comfortable.

“Jackie,

I bet you never even noticed that I broke into your bedroom that night

and swapped out your breast cream for plain old moisturizer and some

food coloring! I used it every day for over a month while I was out in

California at my cousin’s place. And when I ran out I headed south. Did

you know the name of the village that the old shaman lived in was

scratched into the bottom of the pot? Well, I found the village and the

man! And I rode that old man while he gave me all the cream I wanted! In

return I gave him what he wanted! I gave him sex with a woman whose

boobs dwarfed all the others! I wore him out, you know! But he died

happy, fucking a woman with the largest, most magnificent, firmest,

hugest boobs in the world! Me! Donna Pinchmyhottie! Look at me Jackie

and weep! You have no chance! There is no way you can compete with these

now!” she crowed as she let her coat slide to the floor.

Smirking

at the stunned young woman sitting on the bed she drew her shoulders

back and took a deep breath. Her breasts responded by surging forward

almost four inches. The movement was barely noticeable, her incredible

vastness was already so large that an added four inches was nothing!

“I

used the cream every day until it ran out. I stayed in that little

village for weeks after the old shaman passed away. I waited while the

cream did its magic and my breasts grew larger. Every day I got bigger

and bigger! You know that one of the effects of the cream is that your

boobs get more sensitive and your sex drive grows bigger along with your

titties, too! I took on all the men. None of them could resist what I

had to offer them! Some of the women got upset but there was nothing

they could do to challenge "The Scarlet Witch”, I was just too much

woman for them. Or their men! I ruled that little town!

I

just kept growing and growing, larger and larger! Until I got to be

this size. Then I knew it was time to come back here. Come back to Point

Place and set things right! It’s time for me to take back what should

be mine! What I should never have let you steal from me! My Eric. My

horse cocked, big-boob-loving Eric!

“Your

puny, inadequate little 32 Triple L boobs are no match for what I’ve

got to offer to Eric. Just look!” Sneering at the small woman with the

massive tits sitting on the bed next to Eric, Donna began to unbutton

her sweater.

She

started from the top and when she got to the point that she could no

longer easily reach the buttons furthest out from her rib cage she began

unbuttoning from the bottom. Finally all but about six buttons were

undone.

“Watch

this, Eric! You’re going to really like this!” Grasping the bottom of

the sweater she held it tightly together below her insanely large boobs

while she pulled her shoulders back and inhaled! Buttons flew

everywhere! Bouncing off the wall, the ceiling and even Eric and Jackie.

Neither one flinched. They were too busy staring at the revealed

bra-encased breasts that Donna bore proudly before them!

“Dear gawd!” murmured Eric.

“Oh,

no! Oh, no!” muttered a stunned Jackie. She had known that Donna was

now able to offer Eric larger boobs than she could. She had not realized

just how much larger Donna’s breasts had become!

“Well,

what do you think?” asked the preening young redhead. “Have you ever

seen anything like these before? I know you haven’t! These have to be

the largest boobs ever! I’m a much bigger woman than Jackie! I’m taller

and stronger! My rib cage is larger. My old bra was only a 38 double E

but now I carry tits that dwarf what Jackie could possibly possess! And

you haven’t seen anything yet!”

In

reaction to the sight before her Jackie crossed her arms over her own

32 Triple L boobs as if to shield them from the sight of Donna’s

implausible amplitude. Donna was so big!

While

she had been talking Donna had been turning from side to side, allowing

Eric and Jackie to see her in profile, demonstrating how incredibly far

in front of her the breasts reached. She had been running her hands

over the fabric of her bra, her hands just able to reach the front of

the bra cups!

Now,

raising her hands and cupping them behind her head with her elbows

widespread, she turned her back on the dumbstruck duo. From the back the

view was just as stunning! The cups of her gargantuan bra could be seen

from behind, of course. They powered outward on either side of her rib

cage. More fabric than any of Jackie’s huge bras was visible on either

side of her well-muscled back. Her gigantic tits stretched further

outward than her elbows! More surprisingly, the body band was joined at

the center of Donna’s back by only three hooks! And the shoulder straps

were delicate ribbons of fabric! Breasts as large as she carried should

have required many more hooks and much larger straps than that to

contend with the massive load that they had to control!

Slowly

Donna pivoted, giving Eric and Jackie a chance to see her in profile.

With her hands still behind her head, her boobs jutted so far out they

cast a shadow over her hips and thighs

Giggling,

Donna shimmied, while leaning forward, causing her breasts to wobble.

Both onlookers could hear the straining sounds of the bra’s fabric as

her vastness wobbled, shook, shimmied and bounced in confinement.

As

she stood up she once again confronted Jackie and Eric. Her breasts

seemed to reach out to them, cutting the distance between her and her

onlookers in half. Donna’s breasts were larger than either of them had

ever imagined could exist.

“You

know,” remarked Donna as she reached behind herself, “I think that

there may be something magical about that cream. I mean, Jackie, do you

have any stretch marks? I know I don’t and there is no way dirigibles as

big as these shouldn’t sag and droop. But it’s like my breasts hold up

my bra, not the other was around! Look!”

As

she spoke she released the hooks and allowed her bra to slide off into

her hand. As the watchers gawked her boobs settled a little lower on her

chest and separated, spreading outward to rest pointing a little to

either side while the inner curves met, coming together in an enticing,

cock-hardening cleavage that was still more than a foot deep!

“There

is no way I should be able to even move with breasts this large! It’s

impossible. But look! Look at the SIZE of these tits!” Her voice rose in

excitement as she showed off her figure.

Now

that her breasts were released from the bra and fully uncovered they

appeared even larger than they had just moments before! Areola the size

of dinner plates were centered around nipples the thickness of her thumb

and just raised above the surrounding flesh. Under the amazed gaze of

Eric and Jackie they became erect, firming up and becoming as large as

Vienna sausages.

Without

the support of the massive bra Donna’s breasts did not seem to lose any

of their amazing buoyancy, retaining their incredible thrust and

projection! They bulged upward as well as outward and to the sides. They

seemed to yearn outward, to be seeking freedom. They demanded the

attention of everyone that was with in sight.

“As

I remember it, last time we met Jackie you made a point of showing how

much larger your breasts were than mine! Turn-about is fair play, so

give me your bra!” demanded Donna.

Cowed,

and very nervous about what might be about to happen, Jackie slipped

out of her bra. Eric did not even glance at her while she was doing

this. All of his attention was on Donna’s amazing set of megalithic

titties.

Snatching

the proffered bra from Jackie’s outstretched hand, Donna held it up in

front of her. Clearly she would not be able to put it on. Holding it to

her boobs, Donna could not even bring the clasps to her rib cage! The

cups barely enclosed Donna’s areola. Her breasts were so colossal! What

had seemed to be a large bra didn’t even stretch across Donna’s tits!

“Ha!

I didn’t think so! This bra would never fit me! Maybe, if I…” Donna

slung Jackie’s bra under her right tit. Pulling upward she used the bra

to raise her tit upward. Pulling with both hands Jackie’s bra cut

cruelly into Donna’s flesh. Pulling hard Donna tried to bring her hands

together but was unable to clasp the bra around the circumference of the

gigantic ovoid. “I can’t even fasten it around just one of my boobs!”

Donna laughed aloud at the expression on Jackie’s face.

“I

bet you never thought your "big” 32 L cup bra would look so small, did

you Jackie!“ She laughed again. There was a taunting edge to her

amusement.

"I

gather that you like to watch Eric as he pushes his incredible cock

into some poor, over-matched woman? You like watching them try to take

that gigantic prick! Do you masturbate while you watch? I bet you do!

"Well,

I’m going to keep Eric busy in this bed, tonight. I’m going to fuck him

until he can’t walk! He’s going to tit-fuck my enormous tits! He’s

going to cram his cock as far into me as he can! I’m going to suck the

jizz out of his balls time and again. But Jackie, you’re not going to

watch! You’re going to sit in the closet and listen while he drives me

to more orgasms than I’ve had in months.”

Donna dethrones Jackie as Point Place Titty Queen.

As

she was speaking Donna reached out and draped her titanic bra over

Jackie. The cup fit over Jackie’s head, slid over her shoulders and

then, amazingly, slid further down until it reached mid-point of her

upper arm. It rested there, covering the upper third of Jackie’s 32

Triple L cup breasts. Jackie had disappeared from sight, enveloped

entirely in a single one of Donna’s bra cups!

Gazing in satisfaction at the bra encased figure at the foot of the bed Donna moved to her side and took her by the elbow.

“Alright,

now you can sit in the closet while Eric and I become reacquainted.”

She guided Jackie into the closet and made her sit down. With that,

Donna turned and took the three steps needed to frame Eric’s face

between her tits.

“What’s

the matter, Eric? Cat got your tongue? What do you have to say about

these monstrously large boobs? Have you ever seen anything like them,

lover?” She teased him by lightly shaking her shoulders. In response her

boobs slapped either side of Eric’s stunned face.

“Gah,

Um, who, I mean…” Eric was speechless with lust! His hands came up and

instinctively grabbed handfuls of flesh. His hands looked so small in

contrast to the globes he was trying to fondle! As familiar as he was

with Jackie’s gigantic fun bags, he was in new territory here. Donna’s

breasts so outclassed what Jackie took such pride in that the moves he

had used so often seemed inadequate.

Donna

grinned down at him as he began to, literally, come to grips with her

unbelievable massiveness. His hands looked so small. But this was Eric!

The boy she had loved for so long! Her Eric!

When

his cock had first begun to develop after his accident she had been

hesitant. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him and his enlarging

penis. As it got bigger, as his sex drive increased and escalated, she

had found it difficult to accept what was happening to him. And it had

been even more difficult to accept what was happening to her. His cock

growth must have been emitting pheromones that started her own tits

growing, even before the Mexican cream treatments. Her natural

attraction to him, fostered by 18 years of growing up next door to each

other, seems to have created a natural chemistry that she could not

fight against. And the enhanced pheromones emitted by his pituitary

gland, just magnified the sexual bond they shared.

To

her consternation she had enjoyed their lovemaking more and more as he

grew and grew. Past seven inches, past eight, nine and ten inches he had

ballooned. And the sex got better and better! Her climaxes were deeper,

more powerful than ever! And they became more frequent as well.

The

size of a man’s cock shouldn’t have mattered to her. All of the

feminist tracts she had read, said so. To her surprise she had

discovered that the larger he got the more she craved the feelings that

only Eric’s vastly overdeveloped cock was able to release in her! Where

before she had felt a little in control the new, enlarged, Eric had led

the way, fucking her until she could do nothing but lie under him while

his incredible cock ravaged her horny cunt time and again, driving her

to heights of ecstasy that she had never imagined possible This kind of

fucking had frightened her. She had pulled away from Eric. She had not

wanted to admit that she craved his massive cock, his ever enlarging

cock that was able to reach sensitive areas that had never been

stimulated before. She had made the mistake of shutting Eric off!

And

into that vacuum had stepped her best friend, Jackie! Jackie! Skinny,

tit-less, barely B-cup Jackie Burkhardon! Eric had never paid Jackie any

attention. He was a “tit man” and Jackie didn’t even begin to qualify!

But Jackie, as it turned out, was also a size queen! She had learned

from Donna how Eric was growing. She had seen how Eric was getting

thicker, longer, harder and how his stamina allowed him to fuck and to

cum for hours on end! Jackie had seen Eric fuck three women in one

afternoon from the same closet she was crouched in now!

Jackie

fixated on Eric. She spied on Eric and his many lovers! She had craved

the feeling of having an enormous cock pushed up into her dripping cunt!

Jackie

had known what she wanted and was willing to do whatever it took to

catch Eric’s attention! And she had done so in spades. If Eric was a tit

man, Jackie would become a tit queen! She found a way to enlarge her

meager endowments.

She

had used the lotion that her Mom had brought back from Mexico. The same

lotion that allowed Tamara to return to Pointe Place with an amazing

pair of Double F breasts. Using it several times a day Jackie had

quickly grown thru the alphabet! Growing from a 30 B cup. Growing until

she had reached an impossible to believe 32 Triple L! In less than two

months Jackie had gone from a tit-less wonder to being the tit queen of

Pointe Place!

Suddenly

Donna was no longer “the girl with the big tits.” She had always been

secretly proud of that distinction. Jackie was prettier. Jackie had

always been prettier than Donna. But Donna had been the chesty one, the

one with the big tits!

And

then Jackie had taken her place. Jackie had become bustier! Much, much

bustier! So much bigger that she had been able to destroy one of Donna’s

old 38 Double E bras just by putting it on! Right here in this very

room Jackie had proven that she was carrying larger tits than Donna! She

had crammed her immense tits into Donna’s biggest bra. And had

destroyed that bra to prove that she was bustier than Donna was. Had

proven it and then had fucked hell out of Eric, no doubt!

Well,

those times were past now. She glanced over at the bra encased girl

sitting in the closet while Eric continued running his hands over her

tits. He was kissing and licking the skin of her tits, what was in

reach, as he sat in front of Donna. With his arms outstretched he was

feeling her tits, running his hands over the smooth skin of her

incredibly large flesh melons, tweaking her nipples and caressing her

warm breast masses!

And

she was loving it! The feel of his hands, his lips, his darting tongue!

It was wonderful! And Donna knew that it was going to become even

better! She had learned a lot while on the West Coast and in Mexico! She

had learned all sorts of tricks! And she was going to share them all

with Eric. By the time she left his bedroom Eric would not even remember

Jackie Burkhardon! She was done with taking second place to pretty

Jackie Burkhardon!

“That’s

enough, Eric! I’ve been waiting weeks to feel you fucking me again with

that incredible cock of yours! I’m not going to wait any longer!” Donna

declared as she shimmied out of her tiny skirt and lace thong.

Donna

crawled onto the bed next to Eric. As she leaned over her breasts

reached the bed well before her hands hit the mattress! She dragged her

tits into the center of the bed before she rolled over and spread her

legs to let Eric between her thighs.

She

rolled over onto her back. Her boobs quivered and shook as they settled

to either side of her rib cage. It was only when she was lying on her

back that she could easily reach her own nipples. Now she pulled and

twisted them as she watched Eric staring at the sight! Massive piles of

flesh spread across her body. Reaching from beyond her shoulders they

rubbed against each other as they met in the center of her chest. Piled

high, more than triple the depth of her body her breast flesh quivered

firmly from just above her cunt to cover her upper body and reached

beyond her chin on either side of her head! From his vantage point Eric

could see Donna’s glistening, bedewed cunt, her smiling, lust filled

face and nothing in between except her breasts! Only a thin, trimmed

‘landing strip’ of her pubes remained on her cunt. The rest was freshly

shaved for the reunion in Eric’s bedroom.

Although

her breasts flattened out somewhat, they did not collapse, they were

too firm, they still retained their slightly rounded points which

supported her nipples. Their sides just brushed the sheets to each side

of her body. She pulled and twisted her nipples. She pulled them

straight up, away from her body, stretching her boobs up and up, forming

huge cones of flesh.

“Don’t

keep me waiting, Eric! I need to feel you lying on top of my breasts

and pounding your cock into my throbbing cunt! Now, now, now!” Her voice

rose in pitch as she spoke.

And

so he did! Eric moved into position between her thighs and socked his

cock into Donna’s hot, wet, tight cunt. The fit was perfect! Eric flexed

his hips and Donna groaned in return as she felt him start to slide

deeper and deeper into her cunt.

Eric

leaned forward onto the massive piles of tit flesh spread out in front

of him, working his cock deeper into Donna, working his body deeper in

between her boobs. Licking and sucking her nipples Eric worshiped on the

altar of Donna’s hooters.

“Gawd,

these tits are incredible,” he moaned. “I’ve never even imagined

breasts as big as these, Donna! So big! So firm and so soft! I can’t get

enough of them!” Panting, he went back to work pulling and pushing his

cock into her. Giving her almost nine inches at a stroke he settled into

a rhythm.

“Oh,

Eric, that feels so good!” She wrapped her legs around him. “But don’t

stop! Give me more! I want to feel you deeper and deeper! So don’t stop,

lover, I need more of your immense cock in my sweet cunt!”

“You got it, Donna, here I go!”

Donna

had never been able to handle all that Eric had to offer. Most women

couldn’t! But Donna had always been so hot! Jackie had been one of the

few able to accept all that Eric had to offer. And Eric was happy to

admit that Jackie had turned out to be a much better fuck than any of

the other women he’d been with! Even Jackie’s much more experienced Mom

had taken second place to her daughters skill! And those big titties

Jackie had shown off at every opportunity! Gawd, he loved big tits! But

Donna, this new ultra-busty, cartoonishly top-heavy, Donna! This Donna

had tits that were beyond description! And she was taking more of his

cock than she ever had before she disappeared from Pointe Place!

Stroke

after stroke Eric went deeper. Ten inches, eleven inches. Then a full

foot deep! Donna was moaning constantly, groaning with lust as she took

more and more of Eric’s unimaginably big cock! She had learned to take

immense cocks while she had been away but Eric was bigger, thicker,

longer and more than anyone she had ever taken on! He was bigger than

the biggest dildo Donna had tried out! But she was determined to absorb

everything that he had to offer!

And

she succeeded! To her immense pleasure Eric was finally able to sock

every fraction of an inch into her weeping cunny! Groaning in pleasure

and excitement Donna adjusted her legs around Eric’s midsection and

tried to pull him even deeper!

She

had him all! There was no more to be crammed into her! And it felt so

good! Within seconds she was convulsing and writhing in ecstasy as she

went thru an orgasm more intense than any she had ever had! Grinding her

pelvis against his she felt her clit rub again and again against him

while his cock head throbbed deep inside her. She came again from the

feelings as he rocked back and forth on top and between her gigantic

breasts.

Eric

was really enjoying the feeling of moving back and forth on top of

Donna. His body was completely supported by her massive beyond belief

boobs! His hands were locked around her nipples, pulling and tweaking

them as he pistoned in her wet cunt.

“Oh,

gawd, that’s so good,” she moaned as she slowly came back to earth

after the shattering orgasm that had struck her. “That’s so good! Don’t

stop, Eric! Keep going! And I’m going to make it even better for you!”

“What?”

he asked as he kept up his steady pumping motion. “What are you going

to do?” His voice bounced up an octave as he felt an unimaginable

pulsing wrap around his cock. It suddenly felt like three or four hands

were massaging his cock! Never had he felt anything like this! It was

unimaginable pleasure! Every square inch of his cock was being pulsed

and pleasured! He was full length in Donna’s cunt and she was doing

something unique to his cock!

“You

like that, lover? I learned to do this while I was out on the West

Coast. Feels great, doesn’t it? It feels good to me too, you know! Want

to feel me clamp down on your huge cock? I bet I can hold you in my

cunt! Let me try!”

Donna

furrowed her brow for a moment and then smiled up at Eric as he grunted

in surprise. He felt like those hands he had been feeling had suddenly

clamped down on his cock. Tightly!

In

response he arched his back and tried to drive himself even deeper into

Donna! But he could go no further. Relaxing, he began to slide out so

he could ram back in again. To his surprise he could not pull out. He

was being held in place by Donna’s cunt which had clamped down on him!

“Cum

for me Eric! I need to feel you unloading deep in my cunt! Cum for me!”

As she said this Donna’s cunt began to again pulse and squeeze Eric’s

cock.

With

a groan of release Eric felt his balls begin to unload deep into

Donna’s cunt. The pulsing motion of Donna’s cunt seemed to PULL the jizz

up from his balls and then to blast out of his cock! Quickly her cunt

was over filled and cum began to drip from her cunt lips as more and

more ejaculate was deposited deep in her cunt by Eric’s spasming cock.

“Oh

that’s incredible, Donna! Your cunt is pulling the cum out of my balls!

I’ve never felt anything like it! It’s so fucking good!” he moaned in

ecstasy as he tried to move in her exquisite grip.

Donna

relaxed and enjoyed the ride as Eric drove himself tirelessly in and

out taking them both to another peak of pleasure. Within minutes he had

fucked anther load of jizz into Donna’s welcoming cunt!

In

the closet Jackie had quietly lifted Donna’s bra enough that she could

watch silently as Donna and Eric fucked like maniacs only a few feet in

front of her. Despite her feelings of despair, knowing that in all

likelihood she had enjoyed her last majestic fuck with Eric she found

herself becoming more and more aroused as she watched and listened to

the lovers pleasuring each other.

As

expected, despite dumping two huge loads into Donna’s clasping cunt

Eric was still hard when he pulled out, panting with exertion.

“Man,

you are one great fuck, Donna! You can do things with your snatch that

I’ve never imagined! Christ! And watching your gigantically huge tits

surge back and forth, from side to side! I can’t believe it! I’m getting

harder just thinking about it!” And it was true! His cock, which had

softened slightly after withdrawing from her cunt, was now as stiffly

erect as if they had never fucked!

“Well,

let’s not let that huge cock go to waste!” Donna mewled. “I need to see

what that feels like from behind!” Struggling with the size and weight

of her immense boobs she turned onto her side. Her upper boob rested

strongly on the lower one. That lower one was partially flattened under

the pressure. Lying on her side, her head propped up by her hand Donna’s

breasts mounded up in front of her, forming a wall of breast flesh that

she could only barely see over!

She

smirked up at Eric. She knew what an amazing sight she presented. Her

epic tits were so much bigger than any others he might have seen!

“You

know, Eric,” she purred as she reached out to gently pull on his thick

cock, “I love to have my boobs played with. To have my nipples sucked

and licked, to have someone squeeze my titties and fondle them. Even to

have my titties fucked while I pull and twist my erect nipples!” His

cock pulsed in her hand. For a moment she feared that she might have

gone too far. She didn’t want him to blow his load on the biggest tits

he had ever seen! At least, not just now! Now she had more on her mind.

With

a grunt of effort Donna rolled all the way over so she was supported by

her vast mountains of boob flesh! She didn’t need to support herself

with her hands or arms, all her weight rested on her boobs. Those giant

pillows held her body well off the mattress as she crossed her arms

under her chin.

“Come

and fuck me from behind, Eric! I want to feel you get as deep into my

cunt as possible!” On her knees her ass was raised up above the level of

her head. She was in the perfect position to take his enormity as deep

into her needy cunt as he could pound it.

Needing

no more encouragement, Eric scrambled behind Donna. Looking down at her

well-muscled back he could see how far outside her body her breasts

reached as they were mashed under her. He slid his cock head into her

and began to push. With an ease that surprised him he slid all the way

in as they both groaned and sighed with pleasure.

This

time Eric was not surprised to feel Donna’s snapping cunt as it

welcomed the massive invader. Pulling back against the resistance of her

needy cunt Eric slammed himself against her upturned ass time and

again! Within less than twenty strokes Donna was again erupting in cum

after cum! She attained ecstasy more times in the next half hour than

she could count. And each time she rose quickly to another spasm of

thrills!

All

the while she was moaning and encouraging Eric to drive deeper into

her, to pile drive his immense cock harder and harder thru her hungry

cunt lips! He was truly panting with the effort to please her again and

again. Even his stamina was being tested by this hyper-breasted young

woman!

“Donna,” he panted, “I want you to turn over so I can play with your immense titties!”

“Okay, lover! I’d like that too,” she acknowledged as she slowly moved forward, pushing up and taking the weight off her boobs.

As

they momentarily uncoupled Donna happened to glance at the closet in

time to see Jackie pull the cup of Donna’s bra back down over her face

and upper chest. ‘So, she’s watching us,’ she thought to herself. 'I

knew the little slut was kinky! She gets off on watching Eric pork other

women! Well, I’ll teach her a thing or two while I’m making sure Eric

knows I’m the best and biggest he’ll ever have!’

“Let me get on top, lover,” she cooed to Eric. “That way you’ll really have great access to my huge tits!”

Taking

his head in her hands she drove her tongue into his mouth and as far

down his throat as she could reach. She swabbed her tongue under his

upper and lower lip, nibbled gently at his lower lip and then stuck her

tongue in his ear as they rolled on the bed.

Sitting

on top of Eric, Donna sat up straight. In this position she could see

only her breasts and cleavage as she looked down. Eric was completely

hidden from her view! And from below Eric could only see the underside

of the largest tits in the world as they hovered just inches above him.

Donna sat with her back arched to keep her breasts up off of Eric’s

chest and head. She wanted him to be able to see just how fucking

enormous she had become for him.

From

below Eric ran his hands over the unimaginable expanses of breast flesh

as she swayed and swung her mammoth tits above him. His cock was slowly

encased in Donna’s cunt as her weight settled upon him. Clasping him

tightly, it felt amazing!

His

hands finally fastened upon her nipples as she moaned in appreciation

of the size of his cock snuggly socketed in her buttery soft cunt.

Rocking her hips, moving forward and back, left and right, Donna slowly

sped up her movements feeling Eric’s cock as it was pushed and pulled,

flexed and bent, massaging the sides of her cunt walls. Her clit was

pushed in all directions as she worked. Another cunt clenching orgasm

roared thru her body and she gasped out Eric’s name while she came and

came!

The

feeling became too much for him to withstand and Eric felt his prick

flex and expand as he deluged Donna’s cunt with his seed for the third

time! The feeling of Eric drenching her insides again was enough to

bring Donna to another orgasm.

Feeling

Eric’s steel hard cock starting to become flexible Donna’s response was

to lean forward, crushing her boobs onto his chest and engulfing his

head in her cavernous under-cleavage! His arms flailed momentarily until

they regained a grip on her nipples. He was forced to reach back, over

his head as he twisted and pulled on the Donna’s erect nipples! Without

breaking her stride, Donna’s cunt brought Eric to full strength again.

Her pleasure was increased in this position as her clit continued to be

excited and stimulated by rubbing against Eric’s clean shaven pubes.

Between them they had produced more than enough fluids that the whole

area was slippery and wet. The slippery friction drove Donna crazy as

she writhed and moved. Her breasts were being stimulated by Eric’s head

between them. Her nipples were loving the attention from Eric’s hands!

The only thing missing was that Donna craved to have her big, sensitive

nipples licked and sucked! But they were too far away for either her or

Eric to reach.

As she reached yet another orgasm she realized the solution was sitting just feet away. In the closet!

Tossing

her hair over her far shoulder she looked to see Jackie staring at the

fucking couple. Her hands were buried in her crotch whilst she had her

massive left boob and it’s nipple locked between her lips! Donna’s

colossal bra was on the floor next to Jackie.

Three-way magic.

“Jackie,”

groaned Donna, “quit playing with yourself and get over here! I need my

nipples sucked! Neither Eric nor I can reach them so it’s up to you!

Chop, chop, you horny little freak!”

Without

a word Jackie bounced out of the closet and jumped on to the bed in

front of Donna. Despite the fact that Donna was now RIDING Eric, taking

more than a foot of his gigantic over fourteen inch pole with every

stroke, Donna’s breasts were barely quivering!

“Gawd,

Donna, your tits are so big!” moaned Jackie as she bent over the

massive globes and fastened her lips on the closest nipple.

“Damn

right! There aren’t any tits bigger than this in the Western

Hemisphere!” she bragged as she felt Jackie’s lips close over the

pleasure center of her magnificent tit. “Suck and lick it, you sex-mad

little vixen! I bet you’ll love worshiping tits that are even bigger

than yours!”

Freezing

in place Jackie moaned in response. She did love sucking on the tip of

this hugely gigantic breast that was covering more than half of Eric’s

body! Except for his legs and part of his arms there was nothing to be

seen of the boy with the largest hard-on in Pointe Place.

While

still tending to one and then the other of the nipples in front of her

she could hear Eric moaning and the wet sucking sounds as he, too,

worshiped the massively oversized tits that were covering him from

crotch to past his head. If not for the air that drifted down between

Donna boobs he would have suffocated long ago!

The

added feeling of Jackie’s wet mouth and tongue was just enough to push

Donna over the brink and with a heart-felt groan she convulsed yet

again. She had long ago lost track of how many times she had cum. But

she would enjoy more than the dozen or so that she had had so far. Donna

was, to her immense enjoyment, multi-orgasmic. She could cum time and

time again. And she enjoyed all of them! Rather than tiring her out they

seemed to energize her, allowing her to fuck and fuck and fuck

endlessly.

The

feeling of her cunt spasming in climax had its effect on Eric. He

groaned, a sound of sexual power mixed with a smidgen of pain as he

ejaculated. Even his other-worldly stamina was being taxed under the

over whelming sexuality Donna represented. Her boobs were the size of

beach balls, her cunt could flex and ripple, massaging his hugely stiff

hard-on in a way no other woman had ever done! She orgasmed and

orgasmed! And she wanted, demanded more! He was starting to wonder if

she could be satisfied. The prospect both excited and scared him. He had

always been the one to be asked to stop when he had a sexual encounter.

He might have met his match!

“You

guys! Gawd, you are so fucking good! You make me cum and cum,” cooed

Donna. She reached out and pulled Jackie to her for a long, intense

kiss. At first Jackie resisted. She had never kissed a girl before. But

the feel of Donna’s soft lips, her insistent tongue and, of course,

those immense tits that Donna had pressed against her felt so good. She

moaned in submission as Donna sucked her tongue into her warm moist

mouth. The two girls remained locked in the passionate kiss as Donna

fell into another of her seemingly endless convulsive orgasms.

“My

hips need a rest, lovers,” Donna announced as she shifted her weight.

“I want to turn around, Eric! Watch out, Jackie!” she warned the other

girl as she slowly twisted in place. Her tits, pushing so far out forced

Jackie off the bed while Donna pulled her legs out from under her and

stretched them out parallel to Eric’s legs. Leaning back on her arms,

hands to either side of his body Donna began a complex movement of her

hips, in reverse-cowgirl. Her tits shivering and moving in sympathy with

her groins movements they shimmied and shook with her movements. They

settled to each side of her rib cage, their outer reaches touching the

mattress.

“Come

on, Jackie! Climb on board! I want to feel those wonderful lips of

yours on my clit while I fuck Eric and suck another load from his

immense cock!”

Seeming to be a little hesitant Jackie grabbed Donna’s nearest tit and massaged the bulging flesh between her hands.

“Don’t

get shy now, Jackie!” said Donna. “I know you’ll love it. You can suck

and lick Eric’s balls while you’re down there too, you know!”

Convinced

by the chance to get at Eric’s huge balls, Jackie squirmed between

Eric’s legs and watched, entranced, as Donna’s cunt rode up and down,

back and forth, side to side on Eric’s hugely thick cock. Donna’s cunt

never let more than six inches slide out of her sucking grip! There was

always at least eight inches of massively thick cock pushing up her

cunt! More cock than most men carried and it was only about half of what

Eric had to offer! Jackie’s mouth watered at the sight. She loved

sucking Eric’s cock.

Eric’s

balls, the size of a pair of billiard balls, rested on the sheets

between his thighs as Donna’s cunt churned in all directions. Her cunt

had a small strip of hair just above her cunt. Jackie moved closer,

watching as Donna’s red furred cunt powered up and down. The contrast

between Eric’s huge shaved sack and Donna’s small patch of cunt hair was

entrancing.

And

rising out of the hair, Jackie saw a surprising sight! Donna’s

prominent clit could be seen. Jackie’s clit was a small, delicate thing,

rarely raising its head except when Eric would lick and suck on it.

Donna’s clit was, to Jackie’s eyes, a giant among clits! At least an

inch or two projected outside her cunt lips, curving upward it rose

above Donna’s inner lips.

‘No

wonder she cums so much, so often,’ thought Jackie. 'It’s like being

tickled there all the time. What must that feel like?’ she wondered.

Gently

she reached out and allowed her tongue to caress Donna’s clit as Donna

continued to grind onto Eric. To her surprise she heard Donna grunt in

response. Doing it again brought the same result.

She

moved her mouth lower to attend to Eric’s ball sack. While using her

hands to hold his balls off the sheets she sucked one and then the other

into her mouth. Her forehead pushed against the rocking, quaking join

between the two fuckers as she worked. She heard Eric suck in a huge

breath as she caressed his balls with her mouth and tongue. Donna was

sobbing as she felt Eric’s mammoth cock in her cunt and Jackie’s head

rubbing hard against her clit. Another climax erupted, catching her by

surprise.

“Oh, that’s the best, the best, I’m cumming again!” she announced at the top of her lungs.

Pulling

back, Jackie saw that Donna’s clit had expanded, pushing further out

and gaining a little thickness. It looked, she thought, like a little

erect penis. Very slender but very similar!

Daringly, she formed her tongue over the length of Donna’s exposed clit and sucked it into her mouth!

“Holy Christ!” howled Donna. “What are you doing?”

Startled, Jackie pulled back.

“Gawd,

don’t stop Jackie, don’t stop! I’ve never felt anything like that in my

life! It’s too good! But don’t stop!” Donna reached out, around her

massively undulating boob to try to grab Jackie and force her back into

her crotch.

Assured

that she wasn’t doing anything wrong, Jackie went to work with a

vengeance. Maybe, she thought, if she got Donna off often enough then

she would have a chance to fuck Eric tonight! She redoubled her efforts

and heard Donna shriek with excitement as she came and came under

Jackie’s persistent attentions.

Not

unexpectedly Eric could take no more of Donna’s clutching, greedy cunt.

With a bull-like roar he came deep in Donna’s cunt. His fifth eruption

of the afternoon, it left him panting under the weight of Donna and her

mammoth breasts!

“Roll

over, Jackie!” directed Donna. “I want to feel that sweet mouth of

yours on my cunt. While I suck on Eric’s huge cock! Slide out from under

me, honey!”

With

a low groan the exhausted boy pulled himself out from under Donna. She

leaned forward to rest her boobs on Jackie’s lower body as the smaller

girl pursed her lips and pulled Donna’s clit into her mouth. It was so

swollen, she found. As she worked it grew, little by little, until it

became almost as large as Kelso’s prick. Insignificant as a prick, it

was gigantic for a clit! 'No wonder she goes so crazy when she’s

fucking’ realized Jackie as she licked the juicy cunt lips and played

with Donna’s overlarge clit. She began to masturbate Donna with one hand

while she kept up her attentions to Donna’s wet cunt lips and drove her

tongue as deep into Donna as she could!

Above

her, unseen by Jackie, Donna was having trouble concentrating on giving

Eric a blow job! “Oh, Jackie, honey, keep that up! Make me cum, you

busty little tramp!” The fact that her boobs dwarfed Jackie’s Triple L

tits didn’t matter so much now as Donna felt herself reach another

climax on Jackie’s face. It felt so good, she lost track of what she was

doing with Eric’s semi-erect cock.

Eric

was standing beside the bed where Jackie lay under Donna, sucking her

cunt. Reaching out, he again began to play with Donna’s mountainous,

vastly jiggling tits. They were so FUCKING big! It was hard to believe

that this was the same girl who had left town with a pair of 38 Double

E’s bouncing under her sweater.

Eric

could remember when he had thought that a 38-Double E rack was a big

pair of tits! His idea of large had evolved over the last several

months! Pam Macy and her Double D’s seemed underwhelming now. Of course

he still liked to fuck any of the women that wanted to play with his

immense cock. He enjoyed have a pretty woman kneel in front of him and

offer obeisance to his massive fucker. But he still preferred the women

with big tits!

His

mind flashed back over the last several months. Midge, his first Milf

with her D cups. Jackie’s Mom with her Double F cups and now, newly

enlarged to Double H! Double E’s, from Donna. Jackie, of course, with

her growth from a B cup to the amazing 32 Triple L cups that she now

carried with her everywhere she went. And which she loved to show off!

And

now, finally, Donna had come back to town. Donna was back and her

breasts were incomprehensibly gigantic! He wondered, briefly, what they

could measure now? Jackie’s bra didn’t even fit around one of Donna’s

magnificent titties! He had no frame of reference to even begin to

guess.

Eric

looked down at Donna as she sucked and fondled his prick. It was slowly

coming back to life under her care. Slowly, slowly, more slowly than he

could remember, but it was getting longer, thicker and harder.

Donna

was only working on the first several inches. 'It’s too much to wish

for,’ he thought to himself. 'The best cocksucker I’ve ever met is

buried under all those tits! Jackie would have me back to full length in

no time at all!’

As

if reading his mind, Donna pulled off his cock and looked up at him.

“Eric I have another trick I’d like to share with you  you’ll love it! I

learned from an expert in the porn industry. She was a deep-throat

specialist. She had big tits too but nothing like either of US!” She

waved at Jackie and herself to show what she meant. “She told me I was

exaggerating about you when I tried to show her how wonderfully huge you

are. She thought I was lying! But she taught me with some of her bigger

guy friends.” She smiled at the thought. “I really loved the lessons!”

Resting her head on Eric’s hip she gripped his cock at the root and smiled up at him.

“Watch this!”

Smiling

at his enraptured look she pushed his cock head against her lips and

teeth, pushing him from one side of her mouth to the other. Using her

teeth she teased and nipped lightly at the tip of his cock head and then

took a couple of inches into her mouth.

Her

tongue caressed his cock and then darted out of her mouth to lick as

far up his shaft as she could reach, not even half way! Slowly she

swanned her neck forward and took more of his shaft into her mouth. When

his cock head hit the back of her throat Eric thought she would stop as

so many other women had done. The way she used to stop when she

couldn’t take any more. Instead she just shook her head from side to

side and slid two more inched into her mouth! She had almost eight

inches beyond her lips now and only six inches to go. But she knew these

would be the hardest to take. The largest cock she’d swallowed before

this was almost eleven inches long. But it was not nearly as massively

thick as Eric’s amazing cock!

And

between her thighs Jackie was still beavering away, trying her best to

pull more orgasms and more juice from Donna’s cunt. It felt exquisite!

But Donna didn’t want anything to disrupt the blow job she was giving

Eric. She reached down to stop Jackie when she felt Jackie slide her

clit into her mouth and at the same time, crammed three fingers up her

cunt! With a little cry of joy, Donna erupted all over Jackie’s face and

hand! Any thought of stopping her friend drifted away on the orgasm she

was coursing through.

Returning

her attention to Eric she pushed forward as hard as she could while

relaxing her throat as she had learned to do. To her amazement, to her

joy, she found her lips crushed against Eric’s groin! She had done it!

She had taken every little bit of his fourteen and a half inch cock down

her throat! She knew that Jackie had done this but that was the only

other person who had managed the feat! Waiting a beat she began to rise

and fall on Eric’s now completely hard cock, taking more and more at a

time as she went. Just before Eric stamped his feet and moaned she was

taking almost a foot at a time! Rising and falling, her throat absorbing

and then releasing his hugeness she felt him swell in her mouth and

pushed forward as hard and as fast as she could and once more she took

in all of his cock! And then she did something she knew no one else had

done.

She

swallowed! Eric’s eyes bugged out as he felt her throat contract around

him as she sucked his jizz out of his balls! Again and again she

swallowed, her throat massaging the cock that was jammed over fourteen

inched deep! It should not have been possible! But she was doing it!

Doing it and loving it as she did it! Again and again he erupted deep in

her throat until, having given her all he had, he stumbled back and

collapsed onto the chair, crushing her hat under his naked ass!

Underneath

Donna, unaware of what had happened above Jackie kept working on

Donna’s constantly dripping snatch. And above, Donna took a moment to

regain her breath! It was hard to take a fourteen and one half inch cock

down her throat and then to swallow it! To have her throat massage his

cock like her cunt had done? That was amazing, she knew. No one else had

ever done that to Eric!

As

Donna basked in the sure knowledge that she had been able to do

something unique Jackie began driving more fingers into Donna’s clasping

snatch! In response Donna began to rise again toward a climax. She

writhed above Jackie. Donna’s boobs covered Jackie’s body to mid-thigh

as she leaned forward. Her boobs shook and shimmied as she moved while

Jackie kept up the sucking of Donna’s erect clit and cunt lips.

Watching

from the chair Eric was treated to the sight of his most recent

girlfriend completely buried under the breasts of his once and now again

girl friend! All he could see of Jackie was her legs from mid-thigh

down. And all he could see of Donna was her amazing bosom, her lust

filled face and the arms that she was resting across her

all-encompassing breasts!

“Oh,

Eric! Jackie is eating my cunt so well! I can’t believe it! So good,”

she moaned. She licked her lips. “Honey, bring that huge cock over here!

I want to get you back to full strength, now!” Her intensity was

infectious.

Climbing to his feet, Eric could only just suppress the groan of effort that it took.

Stepping

carefully he stood in front of Donna. She reached out and held his cock

in her hand. Almost completely limp the head of his cock drooped off

her hand.

“Gosh,

Eric, I can’t remember ever seeing your cock when it wasn’t at full

length and steel hard! I guess that there Is a limit to how much you can

cum, huh, lover?” Her voice held no hint of triumph, she was just

remarking on an unusual event.

“Donna, I’ve cum six times so far this afternoon! I’m only flesh and blood, you know!” he responded.

“I

do know. And so much flesh!” she said. “I’m going to get you hard

again, Eric! Play with my titties while I play with your cock!”

Reaching

out, Eric began pulling on Donna’s big nipples. And then he moved on to

stroking as much of her titties as he could reach. He formed a fist and

rammed his hand down into her endless, cavernous cleavage! Pumping his

arm up and down he caused her boobs to bounce and shiver as he worked.

And

while he amused himself with her bobbing bosom Donna was gently

manipulating his cock. Slowly at first and then with an increased tempo

she brought the familiar steel like hardness to his cock. Looking up

with a devilish smile Donna again licked her lips.

“So,

lover, here’s the choice you get to make. I can lean back while Jackie

keeps up her wonderful cunt licking and you can climb on and fuck her

cunt and bury your head between my gigantic tits. Or, I can stay right

where I am while you climb over Jackie’s legs and you can fuck the

biggest tits you will ever see! I know you love big tits! And I know

that Jackie must be a great fuck! But which do you love more? Jackie’s

tight little cunt or my massive, massive, massive tits?”

Without

a word Eric clambered over Jackie and slammed his cock between the vast

globes of Donna’s breasts. Donna grinned in triumph as Eric spent the

next several minutes pounding and pounding against the wall of flesh

that were Donna’s gigantic tits! Tits so large the they exceeded even

Eric’s fantasies. Tits so large that the bra cup for one boob alone had

been able to swallow Jackie Burkhardon, the Big Titty Queen of Pointe

Place! Well, the ex-Big Titty Queen of Pointe Place. There was no doubt

as to who the Big Titty Queen of Pointe Place was now! Donna, the once

and current Big Titty Queen!

With

a groan of lust Eric drove his huge cock between the mountains of

breasts Donna was resting atop Jackie! He knew he was only getting about

half way to Donna’s rib cage! Her tits were so big! So firmly soft so

exciting so sexy!

He

came! Spurt after spurt erupted between Donna’s breasts as she cooed in

pleasure and smiled up at the convulsing young man. Wetting her lips, a

smile of lust illuminated her eyes!

“Again,

Eric! More, honey! Keep pumping my giant tits! I want you to hose them

down! I know you can do it! I can’t get enough of watching you worship

my boobs! My gigantic, world’s biggest titties!”

She

leered up at Eric. His face was frozen in a grimace as he kept moving

his hips, driving his cock as deep into her cavernous cleavage as he

could reach. His hips were bouncing off of Donna’ monolithic bosom as he

worked. He was panting and groaning, his breath was labored and forced!

He had never come so often in such a short period of time! This was the

best! he admitted to himself.

With

a muffled grunt he found himself spewing again! They were so large! The

giant boobs that Donna was pressing against him had an almost

gravitational attraction! He couldn’t help himself from ejaculating!

Feeling

the last of the jizz oozing out of his cock he withdrew himself from

between Donna’s tits. Panting he stood, wavering, resting his hands on

her beach ball size boobs. His cock hung, limp, between his thighs. Cum

was slowly dripping off the head to fall to the carpet.

Donna was going through another of her endless orgasms as Jackie used her lips to coax her to new heights!

Reaching out Donna fondled Eric’s balls and cock.

“I

just need one more, honey! Just one more! Can you come for me again? If

I play with this huge, wonderful cock, can you blow another load onto

my super big boobies? Please?”

As

she spoke she was using both hands to pull and play with his cock. She

had never seen his cock in this state before. It looked vulnerable,

limply lying in her grasp! It was soft and malleable. Not the rock hard

cock that she loved so much. Somehow, she adored Eric and his

magnificent cock even more in this condition.

And she loved the thought of helping him regain his hard on and having him shoot onto her bosom!

Patiently, carefully she coaxed him to recover.

She

cooed endearing words to his cock, she arched her back to emphasize her

own enormity, her vastness as she knew that was what would entice him

more than anything!

Still working, Donna lifted her hips, rising up from Jackie’s attentions.

“Jackie, slide out here, honey! We need to get one more load from Eric’s balls!” she invited the smaller girl to join in.

Kneeling

between Donna on the bed and Eric, standing by the bed, Jackie began to

suck and tongue his ball sack while Donna maintained a grip on his

cock. Slowly the two managed to bring Eric to another erection.

His

gaze was glassy as he watched them work. Donna’s tits took up almost

all of his vision, Jackie was working in the shadows cast by Donna’s

ridiculously large hooters! Her own tits were pressed against Eric’s

legs, stroking his thighs as she kept licking and playing with his

gonads. She could feel his legs tremble with exhaustion. He had dumped

so many loads in the last two hours! But even Eric had his limits!

Sliding

her fists up and down his cock Donna couldn’t reach around his shaft as

it finally regained its accustomed heft! Eric was breathing heavily

while the two biggest breasted vixens in Pointe Place worked lovingly on

his now completely stiff prick.

Donna

varied her grip, sometimes using a light touch, at other times her grip

was fierce as she tried to coax a final load from her lover.

With

a grunt Eric’s cock stiffened even more and both Jackie and Donna felt

his groin and shaft swell as his seed rushed from his balls, up his cock

shaft and at last fired out and across Donna’s colossal titties.

Again

and again Eric spurted until there was only a small dribble which

Jackie sucked up eagerly while Donna used both hands to smear his jizz

across the acres of tits in front of her.

With

a final groan Eric collapsed across the bed. The last thing he saw was

Jackie scrambling off the floor to lick and suck the jizz that had

pearled up on Donna bust. Donna moaned in approval as Jackie worked. And

as Eric fell in unconsciousness his last thought was;

“This was so great! I can’t wait to do this again!”

By DDD Dave  for Literotica

 

Jackie Goes Back Into The Closet

By DDD Dave. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Deftly

pulling herself off the handle of her baton Officer Suxon continued to

probe Jackie with the baton shaft while presenting her ass to Eric.

"Here, stud, put that gigantic cock into me!"

"Alright!" Eric enthused as he slipped his cock between Officer Suzy's ass cheeks.

"Christ,

no! Not there, you idiot! Are you trying to KILL me? That huge cock can

hardly fit into my cunt! There is no way I'm taking you up the ASS!"

Officer Suxon half turned to push at Eric before grasping him by the

cock and directing him to the proper target.

With

a shrug Eric went to work with a willingness. In moments he was firmly

entrenched in Officer Suxon's weeping cunt. Juices dripped from the

juncture of their bodies as he plunged deeper and deeper into her.

As

deep as he went into the Officer, the Officer drove her baton into

Jackie's cunt just as far! Somewhat adjusted to Eric's remarkable girth

Jackie found the baton to be easy to accommodate, she was enjoying what

Patrol Officer Suxon was doing. And when Officer Suzy added her lips and

tongue to the medley Jackie found herself soaring to an amazing climax.

"Oh, God yes, I need to be probed! Fucking probe me to death! More, more, more!"

Between

Jackie's legs Officer Suzy smiled at the sight and sound of the

convulsing young woman before she too, overly excited by Eric's immense

cock, began to cum! Pushing her face deeper into Jackie's cunt she

lipped harder while she cried out in passion.

Eric,

in the meantime, was watching Jackie's breasts dance and shiver on her

chest while Officer Suzy ate her out like a madwoman.

Finally opening her eyes as she recovered, Jackie smiled up at Eric as he pounded and pounded and pounded his fuck partner.

"Screw

her, Eric! Fuck her hard! Make her cum!" she encouraged the hard

working young man. "Make her cum again! She deserves it, she's made me

cum so HARD!"

No

matter how deep Officer Suzy drove her baton, Eric could drive deeper.

His cock was longer than the shaft of the baton. And much, much thicker!

Seeing

Eric watching her big, big titties Jackie used both hands to play with

her own gigantic boobs. She pinched her nipples, wobbled her boobs

across her chest, pushed them up to cover her face and watched as her

tittie play excited Eric more and more. He was ten inches deep into the

hot, sexy, 34 Triple-D endowed Officer Suzy Suxon and yet his entire

attention was on her and her bouncing boobies! What a rush, thought

Jackie! What a turn on, watching Eric fuck hell out of some floozy while

he's staring at my giant tits!

Jackie

crashed into another orgasm. Whether caused by Officer Suzy's efforts

with lips, mouth, tongue and baton or the realization of Eric's passion

for her and her ridiculously over developed bosom she didn't know or

care. She was cumming harder than ever before!

Watching Jackie cum had triggered Eric. With a cry he yanked his mammoth cock free from the clutches of Officer Suzy's cunt!

"I'm cumming! Cumming! Where do you want it?" he asked.

"In my mouth!" both girls spoke simultaneously.

Being

closer, Suzy got the first discharge from Eric's weapon but Jackie was

there for the second. They shared each successive blast. Eric's spew

landed on both faces, over each set of knockers. In their hair, on the

two smiling, laughing faces. It went everywhere. And when Eric slumped,

spent, they kept searching out every last drop of cum.

Grinning

into each other's eyes Jackie and Officer Suzy smeared their cum

covered titties against each other before Jackie leaned forward and

began to lick up Eric's cum from Suzy's Triple-D titties. The Officer's

hands were playing with her own snatch as Jackie sucked and slurped.

Officer Suzy had a small orgasm as Jackie sucked and sucked on the erect

nipples crowning her big titties.

And

after Officer Suzy had returned the favor the two shared one last kiss

before they gathered their clothes and began to redress.

"Now,

you two keep out of trouble!" admonished the sexually sated Officer. "I

don't want to hear about either of you getting arrested! Unless I'm the

arresting officer!" she grinned nastily at the couple.

"Yes, Officer Suxon" they chorused as she returned to her idling cruiser.

"Well, that was some traffic stop!" said an extremely satisfied Jackie.

"The police are here to Protect and Serve," reminded Eric as they drove slowly away from the scene.

"God,

that was hot, Eric! Watching you fuck the hell out of that slut patrol

officer was so exciting. I think I get almost as turned on watching you

fuck some floozy as I do when you are pounding me!"

Eric

and Jackie were again at Look Out Pointe. Jackie was recalling the

events following the last time they had been here, almost two weeks

earlier.

"You

really liked that, Jackie?" asked Eric. His fingers were dallying in

her moist honey pot. He enjoyed Jackie's cleanly shaved cunt. His cock

and balls were also freshly shorn. They had done each other again the

last time they had gotten together at her home. They almost got caught,

however, when Jackie's Dad got home early. Eric had been forced to hide

in her bathroom for half an hour until he could slip out without being

seen.

"Oh,

God! Watching you push that amazing cock of yours into some poor woman?

You have no idea how much I like to watch that! I really love to see

you cram your immensity into some unsuspecting, cock hungry, floozy!

"I

like to watch as some cock hungry bitch chokes on your gigantic prick,

trying to take more and more! Seeing them have to back off when they get

9 or 10 inches of that freak cock into their throat! I love that I can

take on more than anyone else! I love that I get to suck and fuck with

the largest, longest, fattest, hardest, biggest cock! And I love that I

have huge tits that You love to watch shake and shimmy, while we fuck

each other!

"You

know what my favorite part of you and I getting together with Officer

Suxon was? It was watching you slam your cock into her from behind.

Seeing the look on her face! Seeing tears leaking from her eyes as she

came and came and came on your huge cock!

"And

seeing that you were watching ME the whole time she was eating me out

as you pounded her. That you were focused on watching my immense tits

shake back and forth while we were going at it! That's what I love. It's

amazing!

"You're kind of a freak, aren't you, little girl?"

"Watch

who you call little!" protested Jackie. "I told you, I'm now the proud

possessor of an epic 32 Triple L bra! And it only just fits!"

Eric

caressed the breasts in question with his lips. As he nibbled at the

nipples that crowned Jackie's beyond massive tits her hands came up to

hold him to her.

"But

I think I'm done growing," she commented with a trace of regret. "I've

measured myself three times now without any increase."

Without

comment Eric continued to use his lips, teeth and hands on her

marvelous bust. He couldn't get over just how HUGE Jackie had become.

She was a slight, slender girl with two massive fun bags that thrust

boldly in front of her to an unthinkable degree! Thrust out to the sides

as well as thrusting to the front! Jackie's tits projected so far

outside her rib cage it was stunning!

"Eric,

I want to watch you fuck someone. I want to hide in your closet and see

you FUCK hell out of a cock hungry slut!" Her voice shivered with

excitement.
"Well, my Busty Queen, as your loyal vassal, who would you like to watch me fuck?"

"Eric

the Massive Shaft, as your Busty Queen, as your Size Queen and as your

Cum Queen I would like to watch you fuck; " she paused to consider. "I'd

really like to see you fuck my Mom! But as she is out of town until who

know when, I'd like to see you Fuck; Donna!" She was still smarting

over all the times when Donna had pointed out to her how much larger her

big E-cup boobs were than Jackie's diminutive B cup chest. Well THAT

wasn't true anymore she thought complacently as Eric returned to

worshiping the most gigantic tits he had ever seen.

"As you wish, so shall it be!" he promised in his most pretentious tones.

The

next afternoon as they lay in Jackie's bed Eric phoned Donna while

Jackie payed homage to his huge cock with her mouth! As Jackie sucked on

the first six inches of his rock hard cock Eric spent some time

catching up with his on again, off again girlfriend. Finally, as Jackie

lifted off his massive cock Eric asked Donna to visit him that evening.

Donna, unaware that Jackie had just crammed most of Eric's more than

fourteen inch cock into her tight little cunt while she and Eric talked,

agreed. It had been a long time since Donna had felt his amazing cock

ram in and out of her and she was hot for it!

No

sooner had they hung up than Jackie wrung a massive explosion from his

giant balls. Eric's howls of ecstasy echoed in the large bedroom.

Already he was looking forward to fucking Donna while Jackie watched

from his closet. If Jackie wanted to watch Eric fuck women, he was

willing to go along with it. That is, as long as the women had big tits!

That

evening, long legs flashing, Donna came into Eric's bedroom by climbing

in the open window. She had scrambled to the roof outside before

putting on her four inch heels.

She stood, towering over Eric in her trench coat where he lay in bed.

"I see you're ready for me," she motioned to his erect cock which he was slowly stroking while she watched.

No

reason to tell Donna that until moments before she entered Jackie had

been slapping her huge 32 Triple L tits and diamond hard nipples with

his long hard cock! She had scampered into the closet when they had

heard Donna climb onto the roof.

"Oh,

yeah, I am!" he said, watching her watch him. Watching her stare at his

erect cock as it swayed from side to side as he kept up a slow cadence.

The look in her eyes defined LUST as she followed every movement of his

over fourteen inch cock rod!

"Are

you ready for this?" she asked as she swept off her coat. Underneath

she wore a matching set of green thong panties and 38 Double E bra. Her

legs, clad in dark hose attached to a garter belt, looked amazingly

curvy in those heels.

Crouched in the closet Jackie had to admit that Donna looked tremendous!

Eric's

reaction was somewhat more direct. Reaching out he pulled Donna into

bed with him. As she squealed in mock protest, she grabbed his massively

erect cock in both hands while Eric buried his face in her cleavage.

"God, I've missed Mr. Tremendous, here!" Donna admitted, panting, while flying her hands up and down Eric's prick.

"And I've missed the Twins, Donna!" Eric parried.

Crouching over him, Donna began swatting her cleavage and breasts with Eric's cock while smiling at him.

"Like

that, Eric? Like to feel my big titties being beaten by your huge cock?

I like it, a lot! I'm going to fuck hell out of you tonight! I want to

tittie fuck you! I want to suck your big cock and I want to feel it

slide so far into my cunt that I can taste your cock head in the back of

my mouth!" Her dirty talk made Eric even harder. Although he couldn't

help but contrast what Donna was doing now with what Jackie had done

only a few minutes before! Donna's Double E boobs, which had always been

the largest in the neighborhood as they grew up, were now so MUCH

smaller than Jackie's amazingly huge tits!

Giving

no hint of his reaction, Eric shifted position so he could probe

Donna's already excited cunt while she wrapped her lips around his cock

head. Using both hands he quickly discarder her panties. Driving his

head between her legs, Eric began to lip and tongue her fragrant cunt.

Several minutes later Donna finally pulled her hands and mouth away from Eric's fourteen inch rock hard cunt pounder.

"Okay, lover, let me wrap the girls around your gigantic cock!" She was panting with lust as she spoke.

Quickly

shedding the bra she tossed it onto the floor and, while kneeling on

the bed, pulled Eric to her with his legs to either side of her. Smiling

down at the young man with the gargantuan prick she folded her boobs

around his shaft.

Using both hands she mashed his cock between her Double E breasts.

"Golly,

Eric! You're so thick now! I can barely fit my titties around you!" She

reached out and took out a bottle of lube from her trench coat before

throwing that on the floor, too.

While

Eric sighed in pleasure she squeezed a handful of goop into her palms

and began to work both hands up and down his amazing erection. Getting

him slippy, slidey she pulled him back between her big titties and began

to use those large, Double E tits to masturbate him.

In

the closet Jackie compared how her incredible bosom could ENGULF Eric's

vast prick and make him almost disappear while Donna could only just

close her tits around him. 'God, and I used to be jealous of Donna's

big, big titties! And now see how much bigger I am than she is!' She

lovingly smoothed her hands over her 32 Triple L bosom, admiring her

super big, super sensitive, tits.

On

the bed Donna had released Eric's throbbing fuck stick from her boobie

prison and, using his stiff cock as a handle, had pulled him on top of

her.

Wrapping her legs around his hips she pushed her pelvis up and ground her cunt against the base of his cock.

"Now!

Eric, now! Drive your big cock into me! I want to feel that huge shaft

between my cunt lips!" she moaned as she kept rocking her hips against

him.

Without

a word Eric moved so that he could press his cock head against Donna's

cunt. Pushing hard, Eric drove a couple of inches into her.

Arching her back, Donna groaned in pleasure.

'Oh,

yes! That big Cock! I'd forgotten just how big, how thick, how Hard

your fucking cock is! Oh, fuck me, Eric, FUCKING FUCK me! Hard! Hard!"

Needing

no encouragement Eric proceeded to put on a show of stamina and prowess

that left Donna a sweating, quivering, orgasming, wreck. Over the next

forty five minutes she came time after time. Each time screaming and

wailing as feelings washed over her in a growing tsunami of pleasure,

stronger than anything she had ever experienced.

Watching,

Jackie had four fingers from one hand deep into her cunt while the

other massaged her breasts. Three times, she had to stuff a gigantic tit

into her mouth to prevent her screams of completion from being heard in

the bedroom.

Eric

was fucking above Donna, feeding her so much cock that he was bouncing

off her cervix with each 10 inch stroke. Her hands were clutching at the

portion of his stalk that was not being buried in her over excited

snatch. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy. He was fucking her so hard she

didn't think she would be able to walk away!

"I'm getting close, Donna!" he panted finally. "Do you want me to cum in you?"

"On

me, Eric! I want to see you cum all over me! Pull out and let me jack

you off onto my titties and face! Oh God, I’m cumming again!" she

shrieked.

Moments later Eric reared back, pulling his enormous cock from her cunt.

His

hands on his hips, Eric watched as Donna jacked and pulled on his

wildly spurting cock as he showered her with cum! Blast after blast, he

ejaculated past her head, onto her laughing face and then, at last, onto

her titties. Smiling from under the cum blanket that covered her, Donna

lovingly milked that last of his ejaculate onto her quivering boobs.

Using his cock she rubbed it into her breasts and nipples and polished

her bosom with his cock head.

"God,

that was the fuck of a lifetime," groaned a worn out Donna! "It'll take

me a week to recover from that hosing!" She pulled Eric to her lips and

delivered a scorching kiss which he returned in kind.

Briefly

cuddling, Donna took some time to corral as much of Eric's seed as she

could find and licked it off her fingers. Finally, Donna rolled out of

bed with a groan and slid into her trench coat.

Leaning back over the bed she gave Eric a tender kiss good night and left the same way she had arrived; through the window.

Moments

after Donna left Eric was joined in bed by an aroused Jackie who

reverently slurped up all the cum and combined juices that were on

Eric's abdomen, groin and, most carefully of all, his semi-erect cock.

Eric

propped his head up with two pillows and watched as Jackie lay between

his legs. She smiled up at him, her tongue caressing his cock head. Her

giant breasts held her up off the mattress while she worked. Her tits

were spread out to either side, brushing the inside of Eric's thighs as

she worked.

Using

her fingertips to hold his reviving cock pointing toward his knees,

Jackie devoutly worshiped the ultimate cock that she had started to

think of as hers. She slowly pushed her mouth onto his prick a few

inches and then back up. Nursing on his cock, she brought him back to

life. She kept up the steady bobbing movement of her head while he

became harder and harder, longer and longer.

"Jackie? ERIC? What the Hell," Donna demanded interrupting Jackie's blow job!

Jackie

said nothing, just smirked up at her erstwhile friend who was standing

at the side of the bed staring in horror at Eric while Jackie continued

to nurse on his growing fourteen inch long dong. Jackie calmly remained

lying on the bed between Eric's legs. Her grip never faltered as she

continued to minister to his slowly erecting hard cock.

"Donna, it's not what you think; " he started.

"What the hell is it then?" she demanded. "It sure looks like Jackie is giving you a blow job!"

Jackie

kept her focus on Eric's cock which didn't even soften when his old

girlfriend had climbed in his bedroom window to confront them. He was

stiffening up nicely now, Jackie thought. Despite Donna standing,

glaring at him.

'Okay, but I can explain; " again he started.

"I

don't think so!" Donna responded. "I realized I had left my bra here!

And I come back to find you lying in bed with this, this busty SLUT!

Well, just so you'll know, this is the last time you'll see these big

titties that you love so much!" She threw open her coat, revealing her

near naked body.

"I told you I could explain," barked Eric. "I think you should let me do that, Donna!"

"Go

ahead, you cheating bastard! Explain why I find my boyfriend with this,

this overly developed little bitch, lying between your legs while she's

sucking on your huge cock!"

"It's

not that complicated, Donna. Jackie is my girlfriend, not you! I mean,

Look at her! The prettiest girl in Pointe Place. The Bustiest Big Tittie

Queen in Pointe Place and the best Fuck of All!

"Go ahead, darling, show Donna what you can do. Show her how Much more you can do than she could!"

Without

a word, glowing from the realization that Eric had finally called her

his girlfriend, Jackie slowly sank her mouth down his cock.

He had called her the prettiest girl in Pointe Place! She sank another couple of inches down his massive cock shaft.

He had called her the Bustiest Big Tittie Queen in Point Place! Two more inches were forced into her throat!

He

had called her his GIRLFRIEND! Her lips nestled against his abdomen.

She had all of him in her mouth and throat. And she Loved it!

"Now,

see there, Donna? Can You swallow all of my cock? No! Can you take my

prick so deep into your snatch that I'm completely inside you? No! But

Jackie can! Jackie can deep throat my whole prick. Jackie LOVES to feel

me pound my whole fourteen inch cock all the way into her cunt!

"Jackie

LIKES to watch me fuck other women! Jackie was in the closet that whole

time we were fucking, just now! She WANTED to watch you and I while I

fucked you senseless! Hell, this was her idea! She LIKES to pick out who

I should pound endlessly with my huge cock! She LIKES to tease me with

the biggest tits in Pointe Place! Which She has!"

After this speech Eric paused to groan and shiver as he emptied his balls into the mouth of his girlfriend, JACKIE!

Sliding

off his now softening cock, Jackie smiled up at the staring woman.

Licking her lips clean of the last of Eric's cum blast she directed a

nasty smile at Donna. There was one more point that she felt she had to

make.

"Donna, give me that bra,!" she demanded, sitting up in the bed.

Confused and angry Donna handed over her bra, her still open coat revealing her oversized titties to both people in the bed.

As she handed the Double E bra to Jackie she wiggled her tits a little trying to get Eric's full attention.

"Now,

watch this Donna! You too, Eric. You think this bra is big? This is one

of Donna's newest bras. It's a 38 Double E, right Donna? Right, Donna? A

38 Double E?" Donna still didn't respond. She just stood there glaring

at Jackie and Eric.

Smiling

confidently at Eric Jackie slipped the body band of the 38 Double E bar

around her waist and fastened up the three hooks before spinning it

around so the cups were in front. Sitting underneath Jackie’s immense

Triple L boobs the bra no longer seemed quite so expansive.

"You think a 38 Double E bra is large, Donna? Let’s just see how large it is!"

In

front of Eric and Donna, Jackie slipped first one arm and then the

other into the shoulder straps of the borrowed bra. At first the bra

hung loosely from her shoulders. But then Jackie started to fit her

vastly oversized breasts into the cups. Those cups, which had seemed so

capacious only moments ago now seemed woefully inadequate. Pulling,

tugging, pushing breast flesh with her fingers Jackie forced herself

into the cups. While the bra band was too large for her slender body,

the cups were held far off her chest by those massive breasts. Held off

so far that the body band cut cruelly into her slender body.

Mashing

and pushing her boobs, Jackie forced her bulging boobs into the Double E

cups. Her tits spilled out from the bra cups everywhere! The underwires

seemed about to slice her immense tits in half! Breast flesh was

swelling below as well as above the bra! There were multiple handfuls of

flesh squeezed out below the underwires on each side. Enough that it

looked like that flesh alone required a Double E bra!

There

seemed to be as much or more breast flesh below the underwire as there

was contained in the 38-EE cups. Between the cups of the massively

overwhelmed bra there was excess flesh crushed together in an amazing

cleavage that just POURED out of the over matched Double E cups! And

there were more handfuls of breast flesh pooching out between the side

panels and Jackie's armpits. The inadequate bra pushed her upper slopes

up to caress the underside of Jackie's chin!

"Now!

Does this look like a large bra to you Eric?" The young man said

nothing. His stare was locked on Jackie immense chest and the mockery it

was making of his ex-girlfriends Double E cup bra.

Jackie

raised her hands to place them behind her head, demonstrating just how

much she over filled the bra. Her breasts rose, forcing the ill-fitting

bra to strain harder as she breathed deeply and expanded her chest. A

series of small popping noises could be heard.

"This

is what a 32 Triple L bust can do to your 'large' bra, Donna! Eric has

had my gigantic tits to play with and he doesn't need any others, do you

Eric?" As Jackie continued to take deep breaths her ridiculously

gigantic tits stretched and tortured the green fabric that made up the

bra panels.

Eric

didn't respond to Jackie's comment. He didn't need to. He was gawking

at Jackie's display of over whelming titty power as she all but

destroyed Donna's bra. His cock was back at full length! Quivering, it

stretched at full mast in front of him!

Watching

Jackie torture her boobs by forcing them into the too small Double E

cup bra had brought him to erection in record time!

Donna

burst into tears. "It's not fair, It's not fair! You've always been the

prettiest one! And now you're the bustiest too! It's not fair!" She

turned and stormed out without demanding the return of her bra. The

sight of her braless breasts dancing on her chest would have commanded

Eric's attention at other times but he was still gaping at the sight in

front of him. Jackie had the biggest, by FAR the biggest tits he had

ever seen. Big beyond his wildest fantasies!

That

lady from JC Penny, with her forty eight inch bust was a poor second to

what Jackie was packing! Although she was almost six inches taller than

her daughter, Pam's boobs were no competition for the size that was

busting out everywhere from the overmatched 38-EE bra just in front of

his face. Triple L!

He reached out to free Jackie from her self-imposed straitjacket.

"Geeze,

Jackie, that nasty, little bra really put some marks on your skin! Let

me make you feel better!" he said as he finished freeing his

girlfriend’s overly enormous bust from its internment.

His

hands, lips and tongue were already kneading and stroking, caressing

and petting, trying to ease the deep grooves in her back, side and, most

importantly, her gargantuan, gigantically swelling boobs!

Jackie

smiled down at him as he worshiped her immensities. Eric and his huge