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Message-ID: <38847asstr$1035065402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Homer Vargas <vargas111@yahoo.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} A New Infection-Repost-(MC, Fdom, humor, preg)
Date: Sat, 19 Oct 2002 18:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

A New Infection
Homer Vargas
Vargas111@hooyahooya.com
MC, Fdom, humor, preg
Point of View: Third Person
Redistribution: No restriction except that the story
may not be changed/edited and the title, author's name
and email, and request for feedback must remain
intact.
Summary: A group of women struggle to save the world
from a virus that turns women into bimbo baby makers.
First Posted 3/11/99
Last Edited 10/17/02

[I want to thank Janey for proofreading, but since I
have had my filthy word processor on it since she
cleaned it up, brand new errors no doubt have oozed
back in.]


Naturally, a number of myths and romanticized stories
have grown up even in the few short years since the
beginning of the New Age.  Many of these concern the
first critical moments that made all the difference. 
Did it really happen just that way?  Maybe not, but so
the story goes... 

*****

Dr. Mercedes Cortez was doing a routine gene sequence
when the wail of the "ISOLATE" alarm froze her heart. 
Putting aside false hopes that it was only a drill,
the Chief of the National Institutes of Health Western
Biodome looked at the maze of lights and lines to see
where the emergency originated.  Only the gravest
release of a truly fearsome pathogen would require the
massive Biodome complex to sever all chemical and
biological links with the outside world.  Carved into
the heart of a mountain, the top secret facility was
virtually impregnable.  Until they unsealed it,
Mercedes and the sixteen other of the world's elite
women scientists working at the Biodome were as
isolated as if they were on the Moon.

Amazingly, she saw that the "ISOLATE" order had come
not from one of the laboratories, but from the
communications center.  Trying to remain calm,
Mercedes touched the appropriate videocom button and
asked, "Ayo, what the hell happened?  Who hit the
"ISOLATE" switch?"

The image of a tall black woman filled the screen.  "I
did, Mechas.  Look at this!"

Ayo Anife patched the television feed to the
viewscreen in front of Mercedes.  The annoying CNN
logo and fanfare were at last fading and the bearded
talking head of Wolf Blitzer appeared.  "To recap this
breaking news, CNN has learned that two days ago
scientists working for Saddam Hussein released a virus
into the atmosphere that has already spread over much
of Europe.  It is expected to reach every corner of
the globe within days.  The virus attacks and blends
into the human genome, producing virtually a new
species of human.  Effects of the disease appear to be
sudden massive physical, emotional, and intellectual
change in women and lesser but still major changes in
men.  Needless to say, there is no known cure for the
malady and there is little chance of one being found,
given the rapidity with which the virus is spreading
and the dramatic nature of the effects.  For the most
recent information, we take you now to our
correspondent in Baghdad, Christianne Amanpour."

The scene shifted to a pan of the Central Mosque as
seen thousands of times from the top of the Ministry
of Information headquarters, the place all the foreign
correspondents in Iraq go for the most authentic,
unbiased information.  Then the camera focused
lovingly on a gorgeous young woman with long, lustrous
black hair and smoldering, deep-set dark eyes. 
Mercedes was shocked, recognizing CNN's top foreign
correspondent, but just barely.  The image before her
and 100 million other viewers world wide looked more
like a slightly aging movie starlet than a serious
reporter.  The cameraman didn't pass up giving viewers
the full body shot that showed a luscious woman
dressed in the shortest mini the religious authorities
would allow, even on a kaffir, and sporting a set of
tits that hadn't been seen in the Old World since Gina
Lolabrigida was a filly.

"Hi, folks," chirped the painted, pouty lips of the
remade journalist.  "They want me to tell you about
what this virus thingy is doing here in... uh?...
here.  So far as I can tell, it's doin' us lotsa good!
 Oops, I shouldn't have said that.  It's really going
to be a problem, I think, the way all us girls are
getting sort of filled out."  She paused to give her
knockers a demonstrative little shake for the camera. 
"How are we going to keep our guys to ourselves?" she
asked rhetorically.  "Experts say..  "  Here she broke
off with a sly grin, "I wonder why they couldn't get
any real 'perts' instead of just EX-'perts?"  The new
Ms. Amanpour clearly had wandered out of her depth.

"The Vir-us pro-du-ces an ex-tra-or-din-ary in-crease
in the lib..  ?"  The confused young woman stumbled
over the text she was trying to read, "The libby?...
the Libby Dole?" she giggled.  "That doesn't make any
sense... Huh?"  She tossed her locks and cocked her
head to hear the earphone better.  "Oh, yeah!  That is
sooo RIGHT!... They told me just to say it makes you
want to 'do it' all the time," she grinned, nodding.

"Thank goodness Jamie came over here with me to sorta
keep me in line.  I know last night over at the palace
talking to Sadammy I got so horny I was ready to
<BLEEP>him... Oh, oh!.  I guess they don't want me to
say the 'F word,' she tinkled.  "Well let's just say
it was hard to worry about what that big sexy guy may
be hiding out there in the desert when you're
wondering what he's hiding inside those cool 'jammies
he wears," allowed the internationally famous
correspondent, unable to suppress another titter. 
"Fortunately Jaime got me back to the hotel before I
did anything foolish and just <BLEEP>ed the <BLEEP>
out of me...Oh damn, I mean he and my producer took
turns calming me down."

"Oh, well, I can't think of anything else to say right
now.  So, this is Crissy Amanpour for CNN in..  ? 
Well, one of those really kewl places they send me
to!"  The camera shot continued as the young woman
smiled, turned and wiggled her butt for the camera
until the scene changed.

*****
Mercedes was unable to speak for a moment, then
recovered.  "God!  This is awful.  I see why you had
to act quickly, Ayo.  Thanks to you, at least WE are
in no danger of infection."

"Yes, but how long can we keep this place isolated?"
Ayo asked.

"Don't worry, Ayo.  We have a vast store of water and
over a year of emergency food rations.  It won't be
very comfortable, but with power to run electrolysis
for oxygen and scrubbers to remove the CO2 we can hold
out here almost indefinitely."

"But it's still pretty hopeless, isn't it?  Sooner or
later we will have to unseal the facility and then
we'll be infected, too.  Oh, God!  We'll all become
mindless bimbos, like ... her!" Ayo cried.

"Not necessarily.  We can ..."

"Hey, Mechas!  There's a call coming in on the Red
Line!" Ayo interrupted.

"My God!  The President.  Put him on."

A familiar boyish face appeared on the screen. "Good
afternoon, Dr. Cortez."  The President paused, looking
the curvy young scientist over.  "Sorry I have to meet
you for the first time under these circumstances."  As
she listened, something about the glint in the
Commander in Chief's eye made Mercedes wonder if he
was referring to the global crisis or the fact that
via TV images, certain kinds of intercourse --
including some the Chief Executive did not even
consider to be "sex" -- were excluded.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President.  Oh!" she exclaimed
when she saw the President was not alone.  The camera
unzoomed to reveal the entire Cabinet in session.  The
First Lady and the VP's wife were there, too.

"Dr. Cortez, I have been informed about your quick
action in sealing the Biodome.  My congratulations. 
You're in charge of our best microbiological research
facility.  I'm afraid the bulk of the effort to stop
this horrific plague will fall on you and your
excellent staff.  I'm sure that you will rise to this
challenge.  Aware of the responsibility that our
nation, indeed the whole world, ..."  Mercedes tuned
out as the President was off on a speech about the key
role of women in the global economy, UN Peacekeeping
missions, and PNTR with China but her attention was
jerked back when she heard him say, "You know that
women are found in many different positions in my
administration!"

The Secretary of State blanched and the Secretary of
Labor tried unsuccessfully to keep from rolling her
eyes at the unfortunate choice of words.  Several of
the cabinet started to snigger, but the First Lady
silenced them with a murderous glare.  The Vice
President, oozing earnestness, did not seem to notice
anything amiss.

"You can count on us to do everything we can, Sir,"
Mercedes replied keeping a straight face.  As the
communication broke, Mercedes was surprised how
attractive she found the President --he was a
sleezebag, she thought, but a sexy sleezebag.

Within hours Mercedes had reorganized the group's
work, everything else being pushed aside to attack the
Virus problem.  A sample was obtained from a young
Israeli woman who was attempting to work out her own
"peace for piece" deal with Yassir Arafat.  As soon as
things had settled down at the lab, Mechas called her
boyfriend Robert to tell him she would not be coming
home for -- she wished she knew when she could return.

"OH darling, I'm so proud of you, but does this mean
..." he asked despondently.

"Afraid so, Sweetie.  I'll be quarantined here until
we find a cure or we run out of food."

"There is no way I could ....?"

"No, honey.  The dome is completely sealed.  Not even
air, not to mention a probably infected male can be
allowed to enter."  This was not easy for Mercedes to
say.  She was already missing her adorable if
otherworldly poet-lover.  He was not a prize catch by
many standards -- only averagely handsome, certainly
not rich on his salary from the University -- but he
wasn't intimidated by Mercedes' fierce intelligence
and would put up with her sometimes monomaniacal
dedication to work.  She loved him insanely.  Under
her tutelage, the sex was even improving.  She would
miss that, too.

*****

A week later things were going better than Mercedes
had any reason to expect.  Her Deputy Director, Vivian
Wu, had identified the Virus and determined its
lineage -- an ordinary cold-like virus that lived
innocuously in human breathing tracts, never causing
more than a sniffle.  The Virus's creator had chosen
well; the human body had almost no resistance to such
an infection.  Then, Shireen Kumanundawata had found
the active sites on the Virus that melded with human
DNA to produce the changes in women's (and men's, it
turned out) bodies and sex drive.

Interestingly, the parts of the virus that effected
somatic changes in men and women were not the same as
those that reduced women's mentality to that of
oversexed schoolgirls.  Again the Virus's creator had
worked brilliantly.  Mercedes herself was the one who
discovered that the other business end of the Virus
attached itself only to the XX (female) chromosomes,
leaving the XY unaltered.  Diabolical as this was, it
at least confirmed what Mercedes had long suspected,
that men and women were intelligent in different ways.
 It turned out that at totally different genes were
involved.

In other ways, however, things were not going so well.
 Her most recent call had shown that Robert was now
clearly infected.  As Mercedes looked at her boyfriend
on the view screen, her heart beat faster.  Robert had
grown so handsome!  His shoulders were broader, waist
trimmer, butt tighter, abs flatter; he appeared to
have gained a couple of inches in height, as well. 
Damn, just when her midling cute boyfriend had become
a studmuffin, he was totally out of her reach! 
"You're not doing anything naughty, are you darling?"
she inquired apprehensively.

"No, honey, but .."

"But what, Robert?  Is it another woman?" Mercedes
demanded suspiciously.

"Well, yes, but I haven't DONE anything.  It's just
that Ruth Morris ... Well, she's been hinting ..  "

"She can hint all she wants, Robert.  You leave her
alone,"  Mercedes replied, feeling some relief she was
careful not to show.  She knew Ruth Morris, a scrawny,
red-haired, forty-year-old divorcee who taught in
Robert's department.  Mercedes could not imagine a
woman whom she should fear less.

"Don't worry, honey.  I'll keep my hands off of her,"
Robert said, not too convincingly.

Only after she hung up did her doubts return.  After
all, Mercedes didn't know how the Virus might have
affected the mousy professor.  And it was not Robert's
HANDS she was worried about.

*****

Four weeks later things were getting dicey.

Events on the outside certainly gave Mercedes and her
team plenty of motivation.  The women scientists were
horrified to see how quickly the Virus was turning
society upside down.  Plastic surgeons were
practically out of business, except for women of
eighty and ninety who were desperate to attract
younger lovers.  Surgeons able to reverse tubal
ligations and vasectomies, on the other hand, had more
patients than they could handle.  Women who decided
that holding a job was too taxing, discovered that
their husbands or boyfriends had ideas about how they
could pass their time, ideas that involved new
additions to the family or long-delayed first babies. 
Even women in their forties and fifties were turning
up pregnant again to the delight of their men.  Single
women gave up waiting for Mr. Right and let Mr.
Whoever-Was-Handy give them the bulging tummies and
swollen breasts like all their friends.

Sales of women's apparel shot up as millions of former
career women ditched their conservative business
attire, which no longer fit their bombshell bodies
anyway.  Eager to please their mates -- or attract
ones -- they plumped for slinky skirts, revealing
blouses and spiky heels, only to have to change again
as their bulging bellies required a whole new hot
maternity wardrobe.

A new de facto jurisprudence grew up: a woman who
eliminated a rival for a man's attention could almost
always get off lightly, pleading temporary insanity,
if she could show she had gone over twenty-four hours
without a proper fuck.  Women who killed men out of
jealousy, although very rare, received no mercy.

Although providing motivation, outside events were
also creating a morale problem for Mercedes and the
others.  Last week, when she had called to check up on
Robert, the videocom link was triggered by a woman's
voice crying out, "Yes! Oh, yes, Darling!"  Mercedes
saw all too well why Robert himself had not answered. 
The automatic camera zoomed in on the speaker, a
voluptuous woman with long flaming red curls riding
Robert's upthrust prick, crying out and coming
repeatedly.  Oh God, Mercedes thought, could that be
Ruth Morris?  As if that were not bad enough, she then
noted Robert's head, or rather where it should have
been.  There, grinding her muff into her boyfriend's
mouth was a younger version of Ruth, screaming in
orgasms of her own.  "Oh Mom, he's eating
meeeeeiiii!... He's got his tongue in my...  Ayyy! 
I'm coming so good, Mom."  Mercedes broke the
connection in disgust.

At the next staff meeting most of the other women
reported similar incidents.  Their own lack of sex and
jealousy of the "outsiders' who were enjoying their
men had them frustrated and bitchy!. "Dammit, Mechas. 
Here we are slaving away like nuns for humanity, or at
least for femininity, and our husbands and boyfriends
are off screwing everything in sight," Bridgett
Lafonte exclaimed in ire.  "I'm tired of getting off
with my hand up my twat night after night.  I need a
real fuck!"

"Me, too!" added Kimberly Bradshaw.

"Oh, God, yes!  I need my Leroy," Vivian Wu
complained.  "I can't think straight without that big
black python up in me every night!"

"Now, now, ladies!  Don't go gettin' so hot 'n
bothered," drawled Mary Jo Lipscom, a lanky Texan who
was the Biodome's Ms. Fixit.  "I like a nice hunka raw
meat packed into m' pussy's as much as the next gal,
but let's be practical."  All eyes turned to the big
dishwater blonde with her boots propped up on the desk
in front of her.  Indeed, she didn't look nearly as
uptight as the other women.  "I don't like knowin'
that my Billy Bob Jr. is off makin' himself some new
cousins with his Aint Josey 'n' her girls, but since I
cain't do anythang about it riot now," she paused long
enough to indicate that in the future Billy Bob was
probably going to pay dearly for his fun, "I just make
do with Billy Bob, SENIORr."

There was a gasp of amazement when the assembled women
saw what Mary Jo was talking about.  Leaning forward,
she drew out a hugely wicked-looking dildo, black as
night.  Another gasp went around the room when she sat
the base of the implement on the desk and a
low-pitched vibration reverberated through the room.
"Yessir, ever night I jus' slip old Billy Bob Sr. in
there where he'll do me the most good 'n' git off a
buncha times.  Sleep like a baby.  If any of you girls
would like to drop 'round for some help, the US Gummit
has put some of the finest plastic in-jecshun moldin'
equipment money can buy in my workshop.  I'd be happy
to whip you up a personalized set."

"A set?" someone asked.

"Well, yeah.  Unless you are ONE lucky woman, I'd
recommen' startin' with a plastic pussy pleaser that's
only a teeny bit longer and thicker than your current
boyfriend's dong.  Graj'ly. you can work up to a real
four- or five-inch thick prod that can provide a girl
with some gen-you-wine simulated fuckin'"

"'Course, if ya cain't wait, I could share the Hardy
Boys with somebody tonight," she said, holding up a
double-headed dildo with one phallus considerably
larger than the other.  For a moment shocked silence
reigned, but to everyone's surprise Tammy Bostrop, the
little high-school girl who had been trapped in the
Biodome accidentally while delivering newspapers, got
up and slid into a seat next to the big woman.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lipscom," the child sobbed, "I just
miss my Tommy so much."  Mary Jo pulled the girl into
a comforting embrace and kissed her tenderly.  Tammy's
sobs died away as Mary Jo opened her blouse to release
her little boobs from confinement and Tammy began
gently to suckle them.  Soon her sobs turned to little
whimpers of pleasure as Mary-Jo's hand slipped between
Tammy's legs and found her clit.  It appeared the
Hardy Boys would have a busy night, or perhaps, again,
they would not be needed at all.  There was an
embarrassed pause and more than one manicured hand
disappeared beneath the table before the meeting could
be brought back to the topic of microbiology.

*****

In the next few days, Mary Jo's workshop was quite
busy.  It didn't take Mercedes long to notice the
difference, either.  Productivity was back up and
squabbling almost disappeared, although the moans and
cries of ecstasy in the makeshift quarters at night
could make sleeping difficult.  Mary Jo had offered to
make portable devices that could be worn at all times,
but Mercedes outlawed these, finding they reduced
tensions altogether TOO much.

Most of the women unimaginatively named their new
helpmeets after their most recent lover.  A few,
however, chose whimsical appellations reflecting their
personal fantasies.  Some of these were obvious,
"Miles and Miles of Naismith," "Bit-Bard's Big
Banger," "Frank's Real McCoy," but no one could figure
out why their intern, Monica Lou Insky, named her new
companion, "Slick Willie."

*****

As more weeks wore on, Mercedes was pleased with the
progress on a number of fronts.  The group now
understood how the Virus attacked the genes to destroy
women's intelligence.  There was no time to focus on
any of its other effects nor, Mercedes grinned, much
motivation.  The improvements in men's bodies and in
women's shape and libido were hardly problematic.

The conceptual breakthrough came from Vivian Wu, who
realized that what was needed was not a vaccine -- the
Virus had already irrevocably altered the DNA of the
infected host -- but a new infection altogether.  With
that insight Mercedes could organize efforts to create
a carrier virus for the new DNA strand that would
attack the modified DNA of the infected host and
modify the genes for intelligence in women yet again. 
This would be merely applied lab work.  Another week
or so would do the trick.

"Mechas!  A call on the Red Line," Ayo informed
excitedly.

The President's broadly smiling face appeared on the
little screen once more.  He looked happy -- entirely
too happy, Mercedes thought.  "Good morning, Mercedes.
 We've been thinking about you," the President said.

"Thank you, Mr. President.  We have been doing
everything we can to defeat this thing, sir.  I'm
happy to tell you I think we are almost there."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about,
Mercedes.  I've had the boys at NSA, DIA, OMB, and the
FRB looking into this Virus business.  We've concluded
there's really nothing to worry about.  In fact, they
tell me it's doing the country a lot of good.  Why,
the new projections show that the baby explosion we've
got going will have the Social Security Trust Fund in
the black for a century.  So, I've decided to call off
you gals' work out there.  Of course I really do
appreciate what you and the girls have been trying to
do and I'd like you to come to Washington in a few
days and let me show you personally just how grateful
I am!"

"The pig!" thought Mercedes.  Yeah, she could imagine
that "the boys" couldn't see anything wrong with a
world full of bimbo sexpots.  And she could guess how
the President intended give her his "Thank you," too. 
He'd probably knock her up, too, if Robert didn't beat
him to it.

"Is this an official decision, Sir?" Mercedes
inquired, playing it straight.

"Of course, the whole Cabinet agrees, don't you,
guys?"  The camera panned the oblong table where it
was obvious there was no dissent.  Most of the men,
trimmer and with more hair than before, were grinning
broadly and nodding agreement.  The voluptuous and
amazingly rejuvenated Secretary of State, though, was
not paying much attention, apparently too engrossed in
pulling aside her panties to let the Secretary of
Defense give her a delightful little finger fuck.

The Secretary of Labor was similarly distracted,
holding her miniskirt up to let the Secretary Housing
and Urban Development proudly inspect her tummy.  He
was patting the unmistakable little bulge that had
resulted from a late-night inter-agency meeting during
which he started a Development that  would end only
when she went into Labor.

The VP's wife was looking down over her enormous rack
and protruding belly in adoration at her husband who
oozed earnestness.  She ran her fingers through his
thick blond curls with one hand while with the other
she fingered her dripping pussy.

The Secretary of Health and Human Services had no
complaints about the Virus's effects either.  Until a
few months ago, she hadn't gotten laid for years.  Now
with her newly cinched waist and large firm boobs and
having started to dress like a woman again, Madam
Secretary found even her hunky interns giving her the
eye.  She was pretty sure that Jack, the one she had
assigned to bedroom duty, was just playing out a
fuck-mommy fantasy every night, but she didn't care
what went on between his ears, so long as what went on
between his legs kept her happy.  She grinned,
thinking of his face when she told him he had gotten
"Mommy" pregnant!

The Attorney General's mind was elsewhere, as well,
planning the fiesta for that night.  She bet she would
be the first Cabinet Secretary in history to pull a
train for the entire corps of US Attorneys AND three
Special Prosecutors.

Mercedes would have asked the First Lady's opinion,
but thought better of it when she noticed the top of a
blonde head bobbing up and down between the
President's legs.

"Sir, we have almost finished our work.  I believe we
can reverse the worst effects of this bug, if you will
just let us continue," Mercedes pleaded without much
hope.

"Sorry, my dear, I order you to stop work immediately
and unseal the facility."  Suddenly the
Commander-in-Chief was crisp and serious.

"In the name of humanity, Sir, I refuse."

"You'll have to open the facility Mercedes.  We were
prepared for your intransigence.  I'm ordering the
power cut off.  Soon you will be without breathable
air.  Then you can choose between joining the world of
happy sexy women and asphyxiation.  Have a nice day!" 
A ruthless sexy sleezebag, Mercedes concluded,
amending her earlier opinion.

"How long will our backup power last, Mary Jo?"
Mercedes asked, near desperation as the lights dimmed
briefly.

"The BATTERIES will last only about six hours,
Mechas," the big girl grinned, "But I don't think all
the President's men remembered our flywheel.  It
weighs seventeen tons and is spinning at 15,000 rpms. 
We can draw power from that sucker for over a week."

"And even after we open the air vents, we will still
have a day or so before the infection makes us ...
makes us ... too stupid and horny to work," Bridgett
added.

"OK ladies.  That gives us ten days.  Let's make it
nine.  You know what you have to do.  Let's do it!"
Mechas ordered.

*****

Ten days later Mercedes called everyone together for
the final meeting.  Outside air had been coming into
the Biodome for forty eight hours and Mercedes could
tell she and all her team were infected with the
Virus.  The physical changes already becoming evident.
 Her own bust had increased by two inches at least and
a growing, giggly horniness made it more difficult to
keep her mind on business by the hour.

"Do you think it'll work?" Ayo asked.  The large
pretty black woman had always been curvaceous, but in
the last two days she had become mouthwatering. 
"Although I'm not that I'm sure I even care.  I just
want to get home to my Carlos.  I'm going to see if he
still wants to screw those high school girls he
coaches when he's got a real woman to knock up."  She
smirked and wiggled her tight, eyepopping butt.

"There's only one way to find out, ladies." Mercedes
indicated the small atomizers distributed around the
table.  One by one each woman picked up the vessel
containing the pink liquid sprayed it in her face and
inhaled deeply.  ."And that is that!" Mercedes said
with finality.  "Now, with your permission I suggest
we wait until tomorrow morning to unseal the main
entrance.  Right now there is something I have been
wanting to do for a long time."  A little cheer went
up as Mercedes reached over and drew the petite but
curvy form of Vivian Wu into a sizzling kiss that did
not go unreciprocated.

*****

At 6:00 AM the next morning the entrance opened by a
time device and allowed an armed SWAT team to storm
into the Biodome.  A hundred men in flack jackets and
automatic rifles felt considerable embarrassment when
the most threatening thing they found was rooms full
of semi-naked women lying asleep in each other's arms
or making slow, passionate love.

*****

"But, Vivian, can't you see, deconstruction of a text
ALWAYS requires attention to the semiotic conventions
of time and place.  I find your attempt at
a-historical analysis futile, at best.  A deeper
analysis... uuh, yes, a little deeper.  DEEPER,
Darling.  Uuuh!  You KNOW how Mommy likes that.  Oh,
oooh, OOOOH!," Mercedes groaned, not to Vivian, but to
Robert, who had been dutifully tonguing his wife's
snatch to a series of gentle orgasms while the two
women talked of things he neither could nor wanted to
understand.

This was Monday and Mercedes always started the week
over at Vivian's house discussing literary criticism. 
Tuesday was philosophy with Ayo and Wednesday she had
Bridgett over for quantum cosmology.  Thursday was
devoted to political science with Monica Lou and on
Friday she and Mary Jo talked engineering.  Weekends
she kept just for herself and Robert except for
threesoms when Christianne was out of town and sent
Jamie over for safekeeping.

"Mechas, my dear, you simply fail to recognize the
importance of STRUCTURE.  A hermeneutic exegesis of a
messages can no more be disguised by cultural
convention than can the language in which it is
transmitted.  With a little more time I know I can
explain it to you.  I'm really so close.  YES, baby! 
So CLOSE.  AYYYYY!".

Vivian paused in her discourse to allow a thunderous
orgasm to take her.  She didn't mind the interruption,
as she always said a good come clears the head and
sharpens the analysis.  Fortunately, in her husband
Leroy, Vivian had the services of one of the best
analysis sharpeners in the business.  After a dozen or
so comes this afternoon she felt quiet well honed, but
a little sleepy, too.  She looked over at the lolling
head of the beautiful, dark-skinned girl beside her
and smiled.  Notwithstanding her friend's
remonstrance, Robert had Mercedes nearly orgasmmed
out.

A nod of Vivian's head sent the two men scurrying away
to cook, or change diapers, or whatever it was that
men did when they weren't needed.  Mercedes could see
what her sexy friend had in mind and scooted her face
between Vivian's legs.  With a grace that comes from
frequent practice each woman deftly adjusted her
pregnant belly so the bulge did not prevent the other
easy access to her bald pussy.  Gently, they kissed
and sucked each other to a last sleepy orgasms of the
afternoon.

*****

In the first interviews with the "Biodome Seventeen,"
as the media dubbed them, Dr. Cortez and her team gave
the impression they knew exactly what they were doing
and fully expected the results.  Some historians who
have looked carefully at the lab notes are not so sure
the investigators realized that the new infection they
created would not only reverse the
intelligence-destroying effects of the first virus,
but would actually double women's intelligence as it
spread through the population.  Intended or not, the
consequences are those that we now see and enjoy.

Whereas the effects on women's minds are clearly the
results of the new infection, different theories
account for the changes in men's behavior.  Some think
the new virus has made males less aggressive and,
therefore, easier for their women folk to keep at
home.  Supporters of this theory point to the
disappearance of Bruce Willis and Mel Gibson movies,
demands from men for sequels to films based on Jane
Austin novels, and their having given up "FMM" and
"Maxim" for  utter absorption by magazines like "House
and Garden."  They also adduce changes in sports as
well.  They have lost interest in football and other
contact sports, (though women have not) but the boys
do enjoy watching those top-heavy girls try to figure
skate and women's tennis where both players are
pregnant.

Others suggest that, regardless of men's inclinations,
their women have to keep them out of public life in
order to protect them from other women who can not
only out-smart them, but who can screw them into
submission at the slightest disagreement.  Knowing
men's vulnerability, women wisely keep their mates at
home, where they are relatively safe from
exploitation.  Imagine a man trying to turn down a
saleslady if his SO were to allow him to go out to buy
his own clothes!  Why, she would just take him in the
back of the store and fuck him until he didn't know
one side of a credit card from the other.

Still other observers point out that men stay home
willingly because for the first time in human history
they are getting all the sex they need without having
to go out to slave, lie, steel, and kill to get it. 
With women in charge, the world has become so rich and
peaceful it hardly requires anyone to work.  Since
child rearing and household chores are no longer their
concern, women can fuck as often as they want without
worrying how many times their bellies swell, as they
pursue hobbies or careers.  Occasionally, a man may be
reluctant to take on the burden of another baby, but
how long does that reluctance last when a beautiful
woman who is much smarter than he, has him down with
his cock up in her pussy and asks him sweetly to
please come in her to make her pregnant again?

Most people, however, feel there is really nothing to
explain.  Everybody knows men just naturally want to
let their constantly pregnant wives keep them screwed
silly while they stay home and take care of burgeoning
families.  It is merely another demonstration of the
Goodness of our Creator and Her divine Providence.

The End

Comments to 
Homer Vargas
Vargas111@yahoo com


=====
My stories are now found on
http://www.storiesonline.net (Thanks Lazeez) 
http://www.eroticstories.com (Thanks, Art)
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Vargas/www/stories.html (Thanks Kristen)

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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